By Colin Darney

Copyright and Disclaimer

Resthaven

© 2022 Colin Darney. All Rights Reserved

Published by Colin Darney on Amazon

Artwork by Irene Zeleskou

ISBN 979-8-9853166-2-9 (eBook)

ISBN 979-8-9853166-3-6 (Print)

Disclaimer

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Amazon or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright and Disclaimer

Table of Contents

Map of The Endless Plains

Map of the Serensea

Foreword

Prologue

The Chronicler

Planning the Route

The Troop

An uncomfortable Talk

The Road to Varmen’s Shoal

Signs and Portents

Healing the Sprites

Varmen’s Shoal

Interlude

A Twelve Course Meal

Reasons Revealed

Family Secrets

Making Plans

Heading South

A Surprise at the Ford

An Unwelcome Tale

Lessons in Leadership

Decisions

The Dogs of War

Moving On

The Old Road

Sella

The Child’s Tower

A Surprise on the Road

The Road to Silverlake

Silverlake

Crossing the Field

Assault on the Pit

A Dungeon of Despair

Over Clear Water

Chores

Permission

Fixing the Boat

Into the Moonlight

A Surprise on the Lake

Unexpected Guests

Epilogue

Afterword

Character List

Pronunciation Guide

Final Thought

Foreword

Hello!

Thank you for reading Silverlake, the sequel to Resthaven. This book follows the members of the troop as they continue on their mission for Lord Maorilan: to check on the western and southern villages around the Serensea, and to fight the ondilaan where they can.

At the end of the last book the troop successfully defended the village of Resthaven. It was a terrible battle, and through that struggle the members of the troop learned some significant things. But knowledge and the defense of one village is not all that is in store for the troop.

It is always difficult for me to summarize what my books are about because, to me, they are so much more than the embodiment of a single theme. Sure, on one hand there’s the military aspect following the adventures of the troop. On the other, there’s a story of family following Donnor, Ari, and their son. Then there’s the magic, the coming of age, the rekindling of love, of friendships, the consequences of war, and all the other little things that brings the story to life. How do you summarize all that? I surely don’t know.

This book diverges some from Resthaven, becoming more ‘mature’ as it progresses. And where I felt Resthaven was a linear and straightforward adventure, this one most assuredly is not. I can only hope that you like it. But ultimately, you, the reader, will be the judge of what I’ve done here. And as I said in my last book, I can only hope your judgements are kind.

Thank you again for reading,

Colin

Prologue

“My Lord, the pass is lost.”

Sir Laigan’s exhausted statement left him as he bowed and sat after Lord Maorilan’s wave. It was early afternoon, three days since he’d rushed to reinforce the mines and their defenses there. He’d been utterly unprepared for what he’d found.

“Drink, then make your report.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Sir Laigan replied, reaching out towards the decanter on the desk. He poured himself a goblet of wine and drank, allowing the sweet flavor to pause in his mouth before swallowing it down, clearing the dirt from his parched tongue.

The padded seats before Lord Maorilan’s desk were a soothing treat after the hard ride he’d just endured. Taking a moment to luxuriate in the cushion’s comfort, his mind drifted back over the past few days. He thought about the sequence of events that led to the battle near the mines, and then to the situation they now found themselves in.

They were not good memories.

It had been five days since Redtail Hold had halved its forces. There had been no word from the village of Resthaven to the west, and Arnet had been dispatched with a large unit of men to determine what was happening there. They’d sent not one, but three troops of men to or through that village over the past few weeks, totaling over a hundred men. And with Moran’s troop now eight days overdue, the chilling silence was far too worrying to let lie any longer. They had to discover if their western flank was secure.

Four days since runners from the mine had made it to the Hold. Scrambling, dirty, and drawn, they came looking over their shoulders, constantly in fear of pursuit. Four days since learning the ondilaan were entering the pass, and four days since panicked reports of the ondilaan’s numbers were made known. But no matter how exaggerated the reports seemed, they could not be ignored. And with their western flank in question, they had to determine the status of the mines and the pass to their east.

It had been only four days ... Four days …

Sir Laigan saw the snarling face of the ondilaani warrior lunging for his throat and opened his eyes, forcing stillness before his lord. He would not speak of such things, not create any more pressure on the man. Looking into his lord’s patient grey eyes, Sir Laigan gathered himself and then he cleared his throat, forcing spit past the knot there as his mind brought another scream from the battle to his ears.

“As you know, my Lord, with Commander Arnet already dispatched west, I left three days ago in command of fifty of our best-trained conscripts to reinforce the guard at the mine. The remainder of the Redtail Guard was left here, to act as a reserve in case of attack. On your order, I was to deploy to ensure the safety of the miners, and hold the pass until all hope was lost. Only then was I to return to the Hold to preserve what forces I could.”

Lord Maorilan’s face softened, taking in the dispassionate report of his travel-worn knight. He knew whatever had happened was not good, not by the hollow look he saw in his friend’s crystal-blue eyes. Sir Laigan would never accept defeat easily, it was just not who he was, and he had no doubt the man had done everything he could.

But the blood on his knight’s tunic told a hard tale, and the billowing clouds of smoke rising up from the pass only reinforced it. Both heralded whatever Sir Laigan was about to tell him, and his knight was rubbing absently at a piece of dirt as he continued to speak.

“The mine guard was at full strength when I arrived, their full complement of one hundred men armed with mace and crossbow. As they are primarily trained as caravan guards, the conscripts were to strengthen their resolve and provide a more solid center in case of attack. On my arrival, the mine guards were dispatched as scouts further east into the pass to locate the ondilaan. The guards returned a runner much sooner than expected, and upon learning the ondilaani forces easily outnumbered our own, I ordered the mine closed and the workers to return here.”

“They arrived safely with the wagons and equipment yesterday, my friend.”

Sir Laigan’s eyes shut as he sighed, before taking another long drink and running a hand through his iron-grey hair. “That is good news, my Lord. Very good news. After dispatching the miners, I commanded the minehead sealed, and crude fortifications raised across the pass. I apologize, but the extra timbers for the mine and some wagons were destroyed in the process.”

Lord Maorilan waved away his concern while Sir Laigan continued, “Due to our forced march the conscripts were exhausted. Regardless, obstacles and fieldworks were raised, and I prepared our forces to meet the enemy. The unclear accounting of the enemy’s total numbers led to that decision, and I take full responsibility for the result.”

“And that result is, my friend?”

Sir Laigan looked away before continuing. “We held, my Lord … though barely. And the victory came at a great cost.

“The enemy came at us only yesterday, unexpectedly in midafternoon. I had deployed some of the guard to keep the enemy under observation, and my scouts returned to me after fighting a short skirmish. It was pure chance that one of the men had been staring at another when he was taken down unawares. And after raising the alarm, an entire company-sized force of ondilaan sprang from cover and forced my scouts into a fighting retreat. Once they had killed half the scouts’ number, ensuring they were falling back, the enemy stopped their pursuit allowing the men to leave the field.

“On their return to the fieldworks, I ordered our forces to stand to, awaiting assault. The combined forces were deployed with the conscripts in the center and the mine guard split to either side, with a small reserve in the rear. The mine guards had some protection from what low walls they had been able to construct. The conscripts deployed behind a shallow ditch, all they had time to create. That, and some scattered obstacles were all the defenses that were available.

“It was not long after the enemy began their assault. The reports from the outlying villages are true, my Lord: the ondilaan are using archers. They must be using their young to man the bows for their archers are smaller in stature. They never approached close enough to clearly see, but the difference in size was easy enough to determine. Regardless, their archers approached in stealth, completely unseen, and led with a volley of arrows.

“Without the shields and heavy armor of the Redtail Guard, the mine guards and conscripts were vulnerable. I therefore ordered the formations to spread ranks, allowing them the opportunity to avoid the volley. We took minimal losses, truly only some minor injuries, which improved morale. But as I think back, that volley and the ones following it must have been a ruse to keep our attention fixed. As shortly thereafter, skirmishers were spotted between our lines and the archers, and then a cohort of ondilaani warriors rose from the brush and charged.”

Sir Laigan sighed, looking into his Lord’s eyes. “The battle began with roughly eighty of the mine guard and fifty conscripts. It ended with thirty-eight mine guard, and only twenty conscripts remaining.

“It was a desperate fight, and we came close to being overrun. With victory in doubt I ordered fire set to the fields and fortifications, and after ensuring the fire had spread across the gap I sounded retreat. My last clear view of the battlefield had the mine and fortifications fully engulfed in flame, sending thick smoke up the pass.

“With the fire providing no path for the enemy to continue their advance, and leaving my most senior sergeant in command, I returned here to make my report. The survivors are following behind by wagon, traveling slowly and escorting the wounded. Their orders are to return here and avoid all engagements if possible.”

“And the ondilaan?”

“Withdrawing in an orderly manner up the pass to the east, my Lord. By all reports, the forces against us number in the hundreds, and I have no idea why they paused in their assault … but they did. In the end, even the slightest push would have led to us being overrun. Why they did not, I will never know.”

He paused, staring off into space. Sir Laigan could still see his second-in-command being torn to shreds while he desperately shouted for them to retreat.

“I am convinced they let us go.”

Sir Laigan’s hands trembled as he looked down in his lap, seeming to shrink in upon himself after his last statement. The howls, like jeering, followed his men as they retreated down the pass. He shook off the memory, straightening his shoulders and looked his lord in the eye.

“My Lord, the pass is lost.”

Sir Laigan looked away, steadfastly refusing to allow another image of the battle to resurface.

He failed.

Lord Maorilan sat silently as his knight covered one trembling hand with the other, obviously reliving some part of the battle. He’d never seen his friend so shaken, knowing the man had been under arms for almost forty years. Sir Laigan had seen and fought countless skirmishes, and Lord Maorilan had looked up to him since he was a boy. Ever since he’d been his father’s heir.

Pawdrig Maorilan, Lord of Redtail Hold, cast his gaze out his office window as the sun set across the Serensea. The autumn breeze was still warm as the season drew to a close, harvest now only a few days away. A kellit called in the distance, the mousy gray bird searching for some morsel along shore. A morsel like us.

“Their losses, Sir Laigan?”

“Heavy, my Lord. I did not stay to count, but we were using their corpses to reinforce the barricades before I ordered them put to flame. It was as tall as a man in places … stretching across the pass …”

Maorilan watched the captain of his guard’s gaze turn inward, the knight’s eyes dilating with some memory. He interrupted, shaken by seeing his friend so demoralized.

“If all is well, Arnet arrived in Resthaven two days ago. And if Resthaven still stands, he is to return here with his full contingent of the Guard leaving the conscripts in place with Sergeant Tardook. That makes it tomorrow at the earliest we should look for his return.” He looked Sir Laigan in the eye, pulling him out of his inward spiral. “What do you think he will find?”

“I am not sure, my Lord. Between Sergeant Moran and Oldsby’s forces, combined with Donnor’s irregulars, there have been close to a hundred and twenty men deployed to, or through, Resthaven. Arnet adds another seventy-five.

“None of Tintafel’s reports mentioned even a hint of the numbers we faced. If they find numbers similar to those in the pass, deployed in piecemeal as they have been … in open terrain … without any fortifications to protect them … then they are lost. I am sorry, my Lord, but I fear they are lost.

“None of my past experience with the ondilaan prepared me for what I faced. Nothing in the archives described the stealth they showed or the savagery they displayed in battle. Using archers as a ruse, utilizing skirmishers and true formations, allowing my scouts to withdraw to consolidate our forces before they attacked … these are not the tactics of the tribesman we typically face. And the rumors of their numbers are not an exaggeration; there were hundreds of them in the pass.”

Sir Laigan met his eyes, the lines in his face seeming to deepen, his face turning grim. “I fear we should not look to depend on Arnet’s return. I would suggest moving the refugees into the Hold, my Lord ... and prepare for a siege. That is my counsel.” Then he looked away, turning towards the window once more.

Lord Maorilan sighed and turned to stare out the window as well, gazing off into the distance to the birds drifting on the breeze. This is not how it is supposed to end.

He ran one hand through his blond hair as he realized what he was thinking. He was a good lord and cared for his people. The land he watched was peaceful, and had been for decades. But this year was turning into an aberration, and his people were fleeing to him for a succor he could not provide.

It had started with a rumor, dark tales told over too much mead at night in the inn. He had put no real weight on them, listening with only half an ear to Tintafel’s reports of vague talk. But that had all changed once the first survivors started trickling in.

In ones and twos they came, reporting their hamlets and villages destroyed by the ondilaan. Then those ones and twos became a deluge, arriving to the Hold by the cartload. More than could be held in the houses outside the wall, they found shelter for the refugees by stuffing them into every available space. And as they settled in, they spread the same story: the ondilaan were coming, their villages had been destroyed.

The mood within Redtail turned dark, and he’d done whatever he could to improve it. The refugees were willing to labor feverishly to overcome their memories of the burning homes they’d left behind. So, he attempted to overcome their despair with work. He’d tasked them to fishing the ‘sea, making fortifications around the Hold, and generally any other task he could find.

Various projects were undertaken to aid their defenses. The spiked timber wall surrounding the Hold had been completed, and the trench was almost dug. Jagged obstacles had been constructed and strewn about the fields. Arrows had been made, and swords were sharpened. But despite everything they had accomplished, a pall of fear had descended upon the Hold, lurking like a specter in the dark.

There had been a few standouts among the refugees. There was that girl now working at the inn, singing like a bird to entertain any and all. Hesia and the two retired mages tirelessly worked their craft, openly spelling the fields. And they continued to do so, helping to feed them all despite the villager’s sharp words and fears of magic. And there were others, a few bright spots scattered amongst the gloom. But no matter how well they did or how much they helped out, there was one thing they were sorely lacking. One thing the refugees were fully aware of. One thing they could not hide.

With his forces split and deployed to both the east and west, they were lacking troops. And with only a minimum of the Redtail Guard remaining, they were in desperate need.

He and Sir Laigan had considered forming a militia, but Arnet had argued that they were stretched too thin training the conscripts they already had, and he was right. The minimally trained men had been rounded up and sent to Redtail by the Timeless Throne weeks ago, and the guard was almost completely occupied bringing them up to speed. Better to use the extra manpower the refugees provided to reinforce the fortifications of the Hold, and get it done quickly, before assigning them to do anything else.

Once the fortifications were complete and the conscripts fully trained, then they could move on to turning the villagers into an armed militia. They would need them after the losses Sir Laigan reported in the pass, Maorilan realized. … Arnet is destined to become a trainer once more.

“If Arnet returns, can we hold Redtail?”

Sir Laigan looked up, stilling one trembling hand with the other before placing them both in his lap. He met his lord’s eyes for a long moment, considering. “I don’t know.”

“Then we should—”

Lord Maorilan was interrupted by the clarion call of a horn. Its lonely call faded into the distance before sounding once more, with many other horns joining in. Their high-pitched harmonies echoed strangely across the ‘sea.

Their eyes snapped towards each other as calls of alarm echoed from the hall.

“Find out who that is!” Lord Maorilan commanded as Sir Laigan scrambled to his feet and rushed from the room.

Both of them knowing full well, the ondilaan did not use horns.

The Chronicler

The flittershield glided softly upon the morning breeze, flying north above the forest while searching for its meal. Exceedingly rare around the Serensea, the creatures were typically found far to the south in the Wyvern’s Teeth mountains along the Tang’mato, the wide river that drained from the ‘sea. But this one was restless, and if it could, the flittershield would have wondered what was luring it so far out of its range.

Known for their colorful feathers, especially those on the wings, they were seen as a good omen to the southern tribesmen. Their elongated shield-like secondaries streamed from the backs of their wings in flight, shimmering in the wind. And they could be spotted gliding high above on the thermals in the south, watching all around.

Considered highly intelligent for a bird, they were a clever, though cautious, rarity. They sometimes flew right into a house looking for a meal, and boldly dared to take food off of unattended tables. There were even multiple tales of evening roasts flying out of windows accompanied by a colorful puff of feathers to the dismay of many a housewife. The moral being not to let something important to you out of your sight.

Sought after since antiquity, it had been the dream of many to tame the colorful birds, but they died in captivity. And whenever one of them was caught they languished away, seeming to wither before their captors’ eyes. Since the flittershields mostly avoided close contact with people and were impossible to tame, having one near was a notable event. And the portents of their comings and goings were talked about for years after their sightings in the north.

None of this mattered to the flittershield, however, as it was simply hungry and looking for food. Its home range had been disturbed many moons ago and it had been long on the wing, unable to find the tasty insects it normally ate this far to the north. There were no giant leg-hoppers here, and that fact had it considering returning home. But it could not; the furry two-legs were annoying, seemingly everywhere, and they hunted the flittershields for food.

Periodically, it winged itself closer to the trees as something caught its eye, but unused to hunting amongst the branches it couldn’t catch any prey. It was normally an ambush predator, used to gliding silently on the wing until catching sight of something far below, then swooping down to capture it within its claws. Frustrated at being unable to catch a tasty meal it continued its journey north, avoiding the furry two-legs and only getting in a bite in here, and a morsel there. It was annoying that the woods offered its prey so many chances to escape, and it pondered this problem as it glided on the most recent thermal it found.

Around midmorning it came upon a large break in the forest, the first it had come upon in this land of hills and trees. It circled the clearing, eyeing the fields of tufted wheat and corn so similar to the endless grasses of its normal range. It flew closer, warily eyeing the mountainous ground nests made by the hairless two-legs that populated this northern realm. Catching sight of an insect near the biggest nest it flew closer, but the flittershield suddenly winged away when it saw a slew of two-legs gathered in rows before their nest.

Annoyed, it noticed a stream running merrily through the fields off to one side. Knowing running water was full of various delectable treats, the flittershield winged over, keenly interested in what it might find. And find something, it did.

A nice, fat, juicy, sunfly was sitting on a rock, slowly opening and closing its wings while it bathed in the sun. The flittershield circled high above, looking down on its prey as it pondered how to get it. This was the first good meal it had seen in ages, and it wasn’t about to let it go. The sunfly would make a tasty treat.

There was one problem, however, more two-legs.

There were three of them by the rock. Two were resting on a mat of strangely colored grass, while the other one stood close by. The two on the mat had a stack of leaves between them, the larger of the two fiddling with a stick like it was trying to build a nest with its leaves. The sunfly on the rock was next to the smaller of the two, and it looked like it was trying to lure the sunfly into its claw.

That was intolerable.

The flittershield was hungry after being so long on the wing, and a sunfly was a delectable meal, but there was no way to get at it when the two-legs were near. So, it landed within easy distance, settling in to consider the problem. Puffing out its feathers, it shook itself, watching the sunfly while the two-legs continued to make their strange noises at each other.

“Ari? Is there any specific way you’re supposed to start a record?” Tommy asked, turning away from the blank book before him. A strange bird had landed on a tree nearby, hiding its bright, fiery-orange plumage beneath its wings. It cocked its head at him, studying him intently before turning to watch the rock Ari was leaning against.

“No, Tommy … however you like. Just make sure to say who you are and why you are writing. That’s all that is common to do.”

She’d been trying to lure a bug almost as big as her head into her hand for a while now. He’d allow it was pretty, with bright whorls of color on its wings, but it was still a bug. And it didn’t seem to have much interest in Arisaylia, lazily opening and closing its bright yellow wings while it bathed in the sun.

“Huh,” Tommy muttered after watching the bug stretch some kind of tube out towards the flower Ari was holding. She held the flower still, the bug almost seeming to want to walk over to it. But the bird in the tree shifted its weight, causing the bug to settle back onto the rock after sensing the bird move.

The morning breeze stirred Tommy’s hair, making it shift from its normal brown to red and back again after the light hit it just so. He was still a little annoyed with his da’ for asking him to do this, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. He thought about everything that had happened over the last month, and everything they’d been through. They weren’t all good memories. Not one bit.

How am I going to write all this down?

He sighed. “Where should I start?” he asked, looking back and forth between the quill and the empty page.

“Wherever you like, Tomilanthus. Your father was asked to keep a record of the troop’s actions, and he asked you to write it for him. You are his aide after all. Where would you start?”

Tommy stared at the blank page, considering. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

He looked at Ari, her scarlet hair blowing in the morning breeze. He still had problems believing she was his mother; not Yella, his mum. But there was no denying they were related to one another after sharing their Tol. Something about the connection they’d formed during the final battle made any doubt of that point moot.

Ari watched him in return, her emerald green eyes considering as she tucked an errant strand of hair back behind one ear. “My people make sure to say who writes: their lineage and history,” she said before turning back to the bug, another flower in her hand.

The Chronicles of the Troop.

Written by Tommy, son of Donnor, of Lakeside.

“Should I put you in here?” Tommy asked bashfully. “Name you too?” he dwindled off, not quite certain how to say it.

Ari looked at him, her eyes soft as the morning breeze lifted her hair away from her delicately pointed ears once more. “I’d like that,” she said, her voice quivering slightly, its sweet tone touching him.

Son of Arisaylia Saliantrea, of the Vale.

“Is this, okay?” I miss you, Mum.

“However you want, is fine,” Ari said softly, smiling and placing a hand on his arm.

A call went out near the inn, and they both looked up. Where they were sitting they couldn’t see, but Tommy knew it was Keris’s voice calling the troop into formation. The troop was getting ready to leave Resthaven, and they were lining up in front of the inn. His da’ had asked them to join him in the inn when the troop was ready to go about an hour ago, and it looked like their time was almost up.

He saw Alarat and Camm leading the correts out of the paddock. The two gnomes only came up to his armpit, but they were in charge of the troop’s animals. One of the correts suddenly danced away from something Tommy couldn’t see, and the end of its lead whacked Camm in his nose accompanied by the startled gnomes “Ow!”.

“You probably shouldn’t forget the date. The elves are long-lived; knowing when something is written is paramount,” Ari said as she smoothed the blanket they were sitting on. She set three more flowers on the rock, the bug slowly walking towards them.

“What’s when? We always told time by the seasons back home … I mean, in Lakeside. Is there another way?”

“Do you not name the ages and the years?”

“No. I mean, there are names for them, but those are in the histories. I don’t think this year is in the histories.”

Ari chuckled. “Tomilanthus, all the years are in the histories.” She grinned, shaking her head. “It always amazes me how the younger races don’t care about the passage of time …”

He watched her as her eyes stared off into space. Keris was yelling at someone, something about the village girl still being there when they got back. There was a lot of laughter and good-natured ribbing going on from what he could hear.

“Ari?”

She shook herself. “Let me see … it is the two hundredth and thirteenth day of the year, Tomilanthus. We are in the eighth turning of Giil’ac Mohr, and the twenty second turning of Giil’ac Haeg, in the year fifty-six ninety-eight of the fourth age. Twenty-three thousand six hundred and ninety-eight years since the gods were lost.”

Tommy blinked at her. “Ummm… Jeel-ack-what?”

“Giil’ac Mohr and Haeg? The twin moons?”

“Uhhh … we always just called them ‘the moons’,” Tommy said, feeling suddenly stupid.

“Your father didn’t …” Ari sighed and shook her head. “Just put the day and the year.”

The Chronicles of the Troop.

Written by Tommy, son of Donnor, of Lakeside.

Son of Arisaylia Saliantrea, of the Vale.

Day 213, 23,698.

“Now what?”

“Write what you have experienced, however you will. You are the chronicler; there is nothing right or proper here. Your father asked you to record what has happened for Lord Maorilan. This is not a ballad you are creating.” Ari smirked. “Speak plainly.”

“Huh,” Tommy breathed as he continued watching the two gnomes getting the correts in line. He remembered Camm lying on the floor on a cot, wounded, waiting to be healed in the inn. He still didn’t have any memory of what happened that night, but he knew his Tol was central in healing Camm and everyone else. They’d healed them all in the end, and he took a lot of pride in that. Camm waved as he struggled with the corret, the immense bird trying to chase a bug instead of lining up with the men.

“Where should I start?”

“At the beginning, Tomilanthus,” Ari said, humor coloring her words.

He followed her gaze as she looked across the stream towards the eastern fields. They’d managed to save most of them; the fires of the final battle not spreading to the crops. The farmers were harvesting what was left of the wheat, loading it into a cart to take to the mill. It reminded him of home.

“Lakeside?”

“As good a point as any,” Ari said, her voice catching as she looked away.

“Ari?” There was a long pause as she stared off to the south, not responding. “Di’ii?”

“Yes, Tomilanthus, Di’ii. It still hurts, even after sending her soul to rest. I loved your sister very much.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, remembering the house collapsing, the fires and smoke, the screams as they escaped. It seemed like ages ago now. “How long ago was it? How long ago did we leave?”

“Too long … and not long enough …” Ari sniffed, looking away.

Their guardian, Saress, obviously hearing everything despite the babbling stream, looked their way. Saress stood apart, providing them the illusion of privacy but was always on guard. She watched over them constantly, even more so since the healing if that was even possible. And she always kept a special eye out for Ari, her concern evident.

“Nisa Saliantrea …?” Saress prompted, allowing her voice to trail off in question.

“I’m fine, Saress. Thank you,” Ari replied, giving her guardian an absent wave.

Tommy studied Ari, her emerald eyes still looking off into the distance, not really seeming to see what was there. He worried about her. It was so unusual to see her like this; distant, quiet, and withdrawn.

Saress was watching her also. Her cat-like, half-elven features she always hid in her hood were focused intently on her charge. That hood was now turned towards them, the light reflecting softly from her slitted eyes, deep within its gloom.

“Are you sure?” Saress asked.

Ari sighed turning towards her, pulling her hair over one shoulder. “I am fine,” she repeated, turning to study the bird in the tree. She slowly stroked her braid, one hand after another as she watched the bird. A single tear made its track down her cheek.

Saress huffed slightly before turning away as well, continuing her watch.

Ari took a deep breath. “It was twenty-five days ago, Tomilanthus. Twenty-five days since your sister’s soul was returned to life from whence it came. Twenty-five days since we left Lakeside ...”

Lakeside was attacked twenty-five days ago by the …

He didn’t want to disturb her, but he knew he was supposed to write. He looked back and forth from the book to her tear. She was watching the bug make its cautious way to the flowers. “Ari, how do you spell ondilaan?”

“O-n-d-i-l-a-a-n.” She sniffed.

… ondilaan. Lakeside was …

Crap.

He looked back and forth again. “How do you spell destroyed?”

“D-e-s-t-r-o-y-e-d.”

… destroyed. Me, and the other survivors sailed to Redtail Hold in my family’s boat. There were other villagers there, lots of people. The ondilaan had destroyed their villages too. My da’ was called by …

“Ari, Lord Maorilan?”

“Didn’t your father teach you your letters?” she asked distractedly, still staring off into the distance.

Saress was back to watching her.

“Yes, but we never had a reason to use them.”

Ari sighed and looked back at him. “L-o-r-d M-a-o-r-i-l-a-n.” She considered him for a moment. “Tommy, we obviously have a long way to go if I’m ever going to teach you elven.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy went back to writing, ignoring her recent focus on teaching him her tongue. Why do I have to learn elven? The language I use is just fine.

… Lord Maorilan. The lord told my da’ to take a bunch of men to fight the ondilaan.

“What should I say about the troop?”

“Whatever you want, Tomilanthus. In elven writing, it’s normal to say how many there were, who commanded them, the reason they were formed, and things like that. Have you never written?”

“No, ma’am. There was no need. I mean, we learned our letters using charcoal and board, but everyone knew everyone else in Lakeside. What would we write? Who would we tell? Who would care?”

“Huh,” Ari replied absently. Another call went out from in front of the inn. It sounded like Keris was finishing lining up the troop to leave. The bird in the tree shifted back and forth, eyeing the big bug on the rock that was now sitting amongst the flowers. “It was so simple there …”

We should go soon. “Should we stop?” he asked, looking towards the troop.

“No, Tomilanthus, we still have time. Continue your writing.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He dipped his quill into the ink again.

… My da’ formed the troop two days after we got to Redtail Hold. He made us run, and a bunch of people didn’t finish, but there were a lot who did. Those who made it joined the troop. After the run, Lord Maorilan said the ondilaan were on the other side of the pass and we had to leave. There were …

“Ari, how many people were there before the ambush?”

“Somewhere in the upper thirties, I believe. Let me see if I can remember …”

“Forty-one, Tomilanthus, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress interjected, one ear cocked towards them while she continued to scan about. Tommy always thought it was strange how her ears moved independently from one another. But it was just who she was, just like the almost imperceptible fine hairs covering her entire body.

“Thank you, Saress,” Ari said.

… forty-one of us when we left Redtail. Every day, we marched and trained, learning to use our equipment. On the third day, we were attacked. Three were killed fighting the ondilaan, fifteen were wounded, some badly. Ari healed everyone and we left quickly. On the fourth day we reached Resthaven …

“Should I talk about what happened to the conscripts?”

“That’s up to you, Tomilanthus. You are the chronicler. What’s important to you?”

Tommy considered this, then thought about coming to Resthaven. What happened to Moran and Oldsby had changed what they did; he made his decision.

“How do you spell sergeant?”

“S-e-r-g-e-a-n-t.”

… Sergeant Moran’s troop fought the ondilaan before we got there and won, but a sprite led a …

“What’s the word for attacking your own?”

“The sprite?” Ari asked. Tommy nodded. “Mutiny. Revolt, depending on how it’s used.”

… mutiny and stabbed Moran. Moran and his men were locked up, but Oldsby rescued him when his troop arrived before we did. The mutiny killed a lot of people; they said half of their people were dead. Ari saved Moran from the poison when we got here. The villagers were unhappy, the mutiny people hurt a lot of them …

Tommy’s thoughts went out to Pari, the young woman who’d been raped by the mutineers. She’d been around the village helping Taylin, and he was pretty sure that was the only reason he ever saw her. She had become very quiet and withdrawn, but always seemed to offer him a wary smile whenever their eyes met.

… but Ari helped by healing the people. This helped a lot because the ondilaan had surrounded the village. The ondilaan attacked two days later. A lot of people were hurt or killed, but Ari and I healed them too before we were done. There were a lot still hurt, and they stayed in the inn because we went to sleep. Mr. Tarr helped us protect the village by getting the people to build ...

“Barricades?”

“B-a-r-r-i-c-a-d-e-s.”

… barricades around the village. The biggest was at the bridge, but there were others too. Some of the villagers even volunteered to fight. Then the ondilaan attacked again three days after that, and a lot more people were killed. Ari and I healed the wounded in the inn, but we couldn’t fight. My da’ protected the village, and the village is still here.

“Should I say how many were lost?”

“Yes.”

… Many were killed. In the end, eight of the troop were killed. Nine …

“Conscripts?”

“C-o-n-s-c-r-i-p-t-s.”

… conscripts were killed. Mr. Tarr said nineteen villagers who helped us died, along with four whole families ...

Tommy looked towards the burial ground and the piled stone cairn there that marked the point where the defenders were buried. He remembered Ari sobbing when they woke up after the battle, beside herself with the number of dead.

… Ari and I did our best, but we couldn’t save them all. Me and Ari missed the fires, but Talia said there were around a hundred ondilaan burnt where the barn used to be. The fires burned for three days ...

He looked off towards the remnants of the barn. He’d been told about the fires, but Ari and he had been unconscious for that part. Apparently, he was lucky: burning ondilaan stunk. He shuddered remembering Nalin describing the stench.

… After the battle, my da’ decided to keep the troop in Resthaven. He said he was worried the ondilaan would attack, and had everyone build more barricades. On the third day, my da’ sent the archers out with the Valen family. They returned on the fourth day, and said the ondilaan were gone. Ari and me woke up that day and there was a big party …

“Should I talk about the party?”

“No!” Ari looked at him in alarm. “And if you put any of that ‘lady’ nonsense in that journal, I’ll burn it! Don’t you dare put that in there,” she finished hawkishly.

Saress giggled. The reverence the villagers showed Arisaylia for healing them was profound. Her healing had saved them after all, and the villagers knew it. They called her ‘the Lady’ almost reverently and Ari hated it, utterly embarrassed by the title they’d bestowed on her.

“Don’t you start, J’al’osil.”

“Yes, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress replied with barely concealed mirth, light shining through the hairs on her arm as she lifted her hand to cover her mouth. It was one of the few things Saress openly teased Ari about, breaking her normally solemn manner.

“Write, Tomilanthus. And no ‘lady’ nonsense either!” Ari finished, looking sternly at their guardian.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Saress quickly looked away, pursing her lips, struggling to hide her grin. Tommy hoped Ari didn’t notice his grin either.

… The next day Mr. Tarr and my da’ spoke for the dead and built a cairn in the southern fields. Then we helped fix the village. Da’ said there weren’t enough of us to make it to Redtail Hold without abandoning Resthaven, so we stayed and made more barricades. He said if a week went by without any attacks, he would send a group back to Redtail. The sergeants agreed ...

“Should I talk about Commander Arnet?”

“Yes. It was Arnet who asked your father to make a record of what we’ve done. Since Lord Maorilan and Sir Laigan will most likely read it, Arnet should be included.”

Ari said the last with a hint of annoyance as a mage globe popped into existence beside her head. She had never forgiven Arnet for his treatment of her and his da’, and she stared off towards the inn where Arnet was with a frown.

Tommy could feel Ari’s Tol, even the miniscule amount required by the globe. Their Tol had been much more in tune with each other’s since the final battle, when he’d agreed to allow himself to be ridden and Ari became Mar’col’i. Ari really hadn’t said anything about it beyond that it worked, but whatever had happened had made his lessons much easier. His Tol came to him almost readily now, seemingly eager to be used. And after feeling Ari use hers to make the mage globe, he felt the urge to join her by making one of his own.

She caught his look and smirked, tossing the mage globe his way with a thought. It was a tiny thing, no bigger than his thumb; an iridescent green flecked in gold, the color of her Tol. He tried to catch it and missed, his Tol clumsily hitting the thread powering the globe and banishing it.

Damn.

“We’ll practice more when you’ve finished your writing, Tomilanthus. Keep going,” she teased, knowing he’d much rather be practicing his Tol. A dozen mage globes popped into existence around her head starting an intricate dance as she smirked.

“That is so not fair,” Tommy complained, turning his own glare on Saress after hearing her chuckle. The bird shifted in the tree, switching its gaze between the tiny globes and the bug. Tommy sighed.

… Four days after the burials …

“How do you spell commander?”

“Really, Tomilanthus? I’m going to speak to your father about this. This is pure laziness on his part. He can read and write like a scribe …” Ari turned her stern gaze towards the inn where his da’ was meeting with Arnet, the mage globes absently rotating around her head. The globes seemed to almost solidify as her Tol surged with annoyance.

“Ummm. Ari? The word? Ma’am?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“C-o-m-m-a-n-d-e-r,” she said in clipped words.

He hunched his shoulders, hoping not to become a target for her ire and turned back to the book.

… Commander Arnet arrived. He had a lot of men with him. Two troops of conscripts and a troop of Redtail Guard. He’s been here for two days, telling everyone what to do. Mr. Tarr looks at my da’ when Commander Arnet says something, and I think it makes Commander Arnet mad ...

“Troop, Rest!” Keris called out from the center of Resthaven.

Tommy heard the remnants of the troop snap smartly into position. After their days of rest, the troop had been practicing with Arnet’s forces who were much better trained than they were. The contingent of Redtail Guard had taken the troop under its wing, impressed with what the troop had accomplished. And the troop was showing off, displaying some of their newfound skill for their teachers who were looking on.

The rest of the village was wandering close as well, ready to see them off. They’d been through a lot together over the past two weeks, and a strong fellowship with the villagers had developed. A few were crying, the tears of the villagers showing their appreciation for what they’d done to save them.

“Nisa Saliantrea, it is time. We must leave,” Saress said.

“Yes, Saress. Tomilanthus, are you ready?”

“Aye, ma’am.”

Ari stood and started gathering her things while Tommy cast sand across his writing. Capping his ink, he placed it and the quill into a specially made box before blowing the sand away and closing his book. The book went into the box as well, before being carefully secured and placed in his pack. Ari was settling the blanket around her like a shawl as he hoisted his pack onto his shoulders.

“Nisa Saliantrea? The globes?”

“The globes? Whatever is wrong with the globes, Saress?” Ari asked, a teasing glimmer in her eye as the globes continued their intricate dance around her.

“Nisa Saliantrea … we are not in the Vale. You know the strictures regarding the other races; open use of your Tol should not be displayed. The recollections of the villagers can be explained away as fantasy. The sergeants and their men are indebted. Arnet and his forces are not.”

“No, they aren’t, are they?” Ari responded, tapping one finger thoughtfully on her lip. “But Arnet’s opinions are a matter of record, and the strictures are flexible …”

“Nisa Saliantrea …”

A smile formed on Ari’s face. “Yes, flexible.” A twinkle of mischief entered her eye. “And the villagers are certainly appreciative. Hmmm …” She turned her full smile on her guardian.

“Saress, I think it’s time to make a statement, a statement that magic is not evil. And I think this village is the place to do it. The villagers have learned this and are used to our practice. And if it makes Arnet uncomfortable … well … that is just a shame. We must not let one man stand in the way of progress, after all,” Ari finished, loftily.

“Nisa Saliantrea …” Saress said, frowning.

“I think we shall continue our practice as we walk. Yes … practice,” she concluded, turning a brilliant smile on Tommy. “No one can possibly find fault in a little harmless practice, can they?” she asked, innocently.

“Come, Tomilanthus, summon a globe. Your father is waiting,” Ari said with a smile.

“A jen’ta a Tol a’sala J’al’osil …” Saress mumbled under her breath in elven. Whatever she said was causing Ari to smile even more.

“Aye, ma’am,” he said as a shaky globe of his own slowly came into being over his shoulder. The tiny thing was a poor imitation of Arisaylia’s, but it was the best he could do. Its dark smoky form was flecked with flashes of gold, slowly strengthening as he concentrated on it.

I won’t let them down, Tommy thought, concentrating on the globe until it finished forming.

“Let’s go,” Ari smiled, reaching out her hand.

They joined hands and walked off towards the village center, Saress trailing along behind them muttering in elvish. None of the three noticed the flittershield silently swooping down to gobble up the sunfly, then return to its perch to preen in utter satisfaction.

Planning the Route

The inn in Resthaven was a busy place this morning. The commanders of the various forces were assembled around the central table in deep discussion, while conscripts and villagers entered and left through the main door carrying various things for the assembled men outside. The troop was leaving today, and there was a lot left to be done.

At one end of the table was Donnor, formerly of Lakeside; a tall man with chin-length brown hair, brown eyes, and a strong jaw. He had the build of someone who had spent his life working outside, but radiated a relaxed command of everything occurring around him. Addressing those listening, he tapped the tabletop with one finger while making some point to the man at his side.

That man was hugely muscled, with a sword at his side and another strapped to his back. He kept referring to Donnor as ‘peasant’ to the utter consternation of the officers around him while nodding at whatever was being said. The two were standing over a map of the surrounding lands, discussing the route the troop would take to relieve the southern villages and see what, if anything, remained.

It had been two days since Commander Arnet, the muscled man, had arrived in Resthaven with a detachment of the Redtail Guard and two platoons of conscripts. He was third in the line of command of Redtail Hold, and had been dispatched to find out what had happened to the forces sent to Resthaven. The troop Donnor was supposed to relieve had been a little over a week overdue by the time Arnet had left the Hold, and Arnet had been expecting a fight. What he hadn’t expected to find was the remains of three different troops recovering from a pitched battle after defeating an army of ondilaan many times their size.

Commander Arnet still couldn’t quite bring himself to believe the stories he’d been told, and he’d questioned Sergeants Moran and Oldsby long into the night the day he’d arrived. Donnor was only a commoner after all, and he had great reservations regarding his competence in command. But the two sergeants fierce defense of him and his actions eventually got him to cease his questioning.

The veritable horde of weapons and armor stacked chest high in the storage building near the mill certainly helped support the sergeants’ tale. But after asking if they were sure some of it wasn’t there before they arrived, suggesting their tales were exaggerated, his comments were met with anger. A few shouts of “Are ya’ a blasted fool?” from an irate Mikus, Donnor’s dwarven friend, helped end that line of questioning as well.

He still didn’t believe it though.

Speaking of the dwarf, Mikus was standing at Donnor’s side leaning on the felling axe he’d named ‘baby’. Arnet didn’t understand the dwarves’ fascination with axes, but the short, proud people always seemed to gravitate towards them wherever they were found. And he’d learned back in Tatdavarr not to question the reason why, dwarves being quick to take offense to even the slightest little thing.

They probably couldn’t understand how to swing a sword if you taught them. Too short to do any real damage with one anyway ... poor midgets, he thought as he continued the conversation underway.

“… we’ll hold here while you wander off and do whatever it is you do, peasant. Why our lord decided to give you command I will never know, but try not to get yourself killed too quickly. Moran and Oldsby can patrol Tarwood and Coran’s Hill before returning to defend here. And as long as you keep the enemy’s attention down south, we can all go home.”

“Uh, Sir? We were ordered to secure the village and the surrounding lands as well,” one of his sergeants said.

“I know that, Tardook, but it’s already secure. They’ve at least convinced me of that,” he said dismissively, waving towards Donnor and Mikus. “And we’ve left the Hold horribly understrength with our little fishing expedition here.

“No. We must return to Lord Maorilan as soon as possible. We comprise roughly a third of the forces defending Redtail Hold, and we have to ensure the Hold remains secure. Sergeant Moran?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Take ten of Tardook’s men and combine them with your own. Work it out amongst yourselves. Oldsby?”

“Yes, Sir?”

“You and Moran are leaving immediately after Donnor here. You both are to follow the road west to check on the villages there. Moran, to Tarwood; Oldsby, to Coran’s Hill. It’s two days travel to each village along the road, and I expect you back here in four days. Do not dawdle.”

Mikus shifted his weight, the black hair hanging around his shoulders swinging side to side as he frowned.

“You are authorized to resupply in the villages; take what you need,” Arnet continued. “When you return, the two of you will combine your forces with Moran in command. Your orders are to defend Resthaven, reinforce the fortifications here, and provide a fallback position for the other villages in case of another incursion. Since you’ve already defeated the only force in the area, this shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I wouldna’ be too sure o’ there bein’ no more o’ tha’ ondilaan ta’ be had, Arnet. Ya’ canna’ be sure we saw all there was ta’ see,” Mikus growled.

Arnet waved a hand, dismissively. “With what you claim was done here, it would be impossible for there to be another large force. Besides, I’ll be leaving men here to remain behind and you’ll be deploying further south to intercept anything coming this way. No, we must return to Redtail and defend it for lord and king. Have you forgotten the ondilaan on the other side of the pass, dwarf?”

“No, Arnet, he has not,” Donnor interjected while Mikus growled. “We are just concerned you are leaving this area under strength. Yes, we defeated the enemy here. But we were lucky, and I’ll be the first to admit it. What if there’s another force?”

“I can’t build a strategy on ‘what ifs’ and ‘might have beens’, peasant. You’ve done very well for yourself, but this is a military matter. The strategic deployment of troops is an art that takes years of study and let’s be blunt here, I’ve studied, and you have not. No, the Hold is the gateway for this entire region and our forces must be concentrated there.”

“But the other villages?”

“That’s your job, peasant, in case you forgot. I know your orders; I have a copy right here.” Arnet pulled a sheaf of paper from the stack beside him. “Form a force of irregulars, travel west then south. Visit each major village and as many hamlets as you can. Harass and or fight any enemy you encounter. Defend the villages. Requisition whatever supplies you need. Assist any survivors as able.” He put the paper firmly down on the table, leaning against it.

“Defending the southern villages is your job, peasant. You argued for it, you wanted it, and you got it. The lord even gave you the authority you need, making you a commander and separating your forces from my own. I’ll allow you need a secure position in your rear, and the forces I leave here will provide that for you, but the villages further south are your problem.”

“I think you’re making a mistake.”

“Fine. But it’s my mistake to make.”

Donnor glanced at Mikus before continuing. “Arnet, you have over twice our numbers. Your forces could come with us, at least to Varmen’s Shoal. If the village is fine, it costs you nothing but time. But if there’s another force of ondilaan, we could really use your help.”

“Look, peasant. The Hold is the center for stability in this region and it has to remain secure. There’s no endless supply of troops in this area. If the Hold falls, the entire region will fall with it.”

“But surely a few days won’t matter.”

“Listen, ‘Commander’, the Hold’s forces were halved even before you left to come here. We’re supposed to keep close to two hundred Guard under arms, and we didn’t even have that many before we were forced to send half of them away for the king’s army. And now they’re trapped on the other side of the pass where we can’t use them.

“And you know what’s great about that, peasant? We don’t even have the manpower to make an expedition through the pass to get a clear accounting of how many ondilaan are blocking it. So, we don’t even know how many ondilaan are there. And what’s the only thing stopping the ondilaan from advancing? Redtail Hold, which provides security for the entire region.”

“Are they comin’ through the pass?” Mikus asked.

“No. But it doesn’t matter, dwarf,” Arnet replied. “The pure fact that they are there is enough. And the only way we could challenge them would be to leave the Hold without a single guardsman in it. If we tried with less than our total force, they’d destroy us piecemeal.”

“What about the guard at the mine?” Donnor asked.

Arnet rolled his eyes. “Caravan guards,” he scoffed. “Not good for anything beyond breaking up fights and knocking heads of those drunks in the mines. I’ve been trying to get them replaced with more of the Redtail Guard for years.”

“The conscripts …”

“Enough,” Arnet snapped, the men around him shifting. “They are not Guard, and are barely trained. You, Moran, and Oldsby have the only conscripts with any experience, and look at how they fared. You barely have one force left between the three of you! No, we must return to the Hold, and soon. Time is of the essence. The Hold cannot be left understrength.”

“Then come south,” Donnor rejoined. “From what you’ve said, Varmen’s Shoal is a fishing village. Load your men onto the boats. It’s two days to the Shoal, then one day to Redtail Hold by boat … the same amount of time as marching back from here.”

“On a boat,” Arnet said, nonplussed. “Are you out of your mind? And whose boats should we use? Are you going to magic those up too? In case you didn’t know, the remaining boats of any use have been ordered to Redtail to help feed the refugees. The villages on the Serensea south of here only have the boats they need to survive.”

“What’s wrong with sending troops by boat?” Donnor asked.

“Nothing, except Lord Maorilan is using the boats to feed the refugees, and most of the people around the Serensea can’t swim. You don’t mind feeding those villagers you’re so worried about, do you?”

“But surely something can be done.”

“Look, peasant. The boats aren’t there, and what boats there are, are busy. The storm a few years ago sunk a lot of the older boats, something like over half the fleet. That’s how our lord got permission from the crown to construct more in the first place. It takes more than a wish to make boats, and the lord wants bigger ones like the one you came in. And we can only make one or two of those a year.

“Harper’s Creek and Varmen’s Shoal are the only real fishing villages left, and they’ve sent all the boats they have except for what they need. And what they did keep are smaller and aren’t safe enough to cross the Serensea. If you people down in Lakeside could have protected what you had instead of letting it get destroyed, we wouldn’t be in this mess. But you didn’t, so we only have what’s left.”

Mikus growled, his face turning red with his glare. Donnor clamped a firm hand down upon his shoulder, his knuckles white, and both their eyes went flat as they stared silently at the Commander.

“Is there anything else … peasant? Something more I can educate you on? Some other grand idea? A wild thought to save us all? Perhaps you’d like to give orders to my men?”

“No.”

“Good. Then let us move on.”

Moran and Oldsby looked back and forth at one another, then towards Mikus and Donnor. The four exchanged telling glances as Mikus began to mutter under his breath in his own tongue. Donnor kept one hand on his shoulder, tightening his grip whenever Mikus’s rumblings got too loud.

“The miller here says the scheduled shipment of grain to Redtail will be ready for transport five days from today,” Arnet continued, not noticing the byplay. “The Hold needs this shipment since food for the refugees is getting scarce. Moran? The day after you return here, I will be leaving, escorting the grain here back to Redtail. Mr. Tarr?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“I will be requisitioning carts and whatever animals I can to pull them. See that they are ready,” he finished, turning away.

Mr. Tarr bristled, but Donnor caught his eye and shook his head which seemed to calm him down.

“Donnor, since you will be going to Varmen’s Shoal, you will be able to return here before I leave if there are any problems. And if there are, I can show you what a real force can do. But do try and not lose any more men, I need real forces for the Hold. I don’t need to lose any of my own saving your … irregulars. Any questions?”

A chorus of ‘no’s’ came from around the table as Tommy, Ari, and Saress entered through the door of the inn. Jarrod Tarr, the innkeeper and de facto mayor of Resthaven, moved to greet them, utterly disgusted with Arnet. But no matter how much he disliked the man, Arnet spoke with Lord Maorilan’s voice whenever he was here, and they were stuck with him.

Tommy paused to allow Ari to enter first, his lanky frame similar to his father’s; tanned, lean, and muscled from working outside. He smiled at Jarrod, his hair shifting from brown to red and back again in that strange manner it did as he waved. He was a friendly enough lad, and Jarrod knew he’d caught the eye of a few of the village lasses since he’d arrived.

Ari, however, was so stunning it almost hurt to look at her, and Jarrod cringed a little remembering calling her a witch when she’d arrived. An elf of amazing poise and grace, her emerald green eyes danced and sparkled with mirth at whatever the three of them had been talking about. She had hair that was a color of scarlet only found in the elves; and the combination of her eyes, hair, and pale skin, typically made anyone who was encountering her for the first time to just stop and stare.

Whispers of ‘the Lady’ began as soon as she entered the room, accompanied by raised glasses and personal greetings. She took time to acknowledge them all, smiling and moving through the villagers with an almost delicate grace. Her svelte figure swayed effortlessly as she moved to avoid jostling anyone around.

Jarrod caught Ari’s quick frown as a lass rose to curtsy, but she quickly wiped it away. Ari had been fighting against her title tooth and nail, but Jarrod knew it was a lost cause. Even members of the troop she’d come in with were calling her ‘the Lady’, and there was no hope in changing their minds. She’d saved every single one of them at least once, after all, and their opinions were set in stone.

“Hello, Jarrod. How are you this morning?” Ari asked.

“I’m fine, my Lady. Are you an’ yours ready to go?”

“That’s up to Donnor there, Jarrod,” she said, smiling towards her ilari as he walked up to her. “But Keris has the troop lined up and ready to go outside.”

“Good,” Donnor said, putting one arm around her shoulder. “We’re finishing up here. Arnet was just going over what he’s doing, and giving orders to Oldsby and Moran. Once we get our supplies, we’ll be ready to go.”

“Commander, the supplies long be loaded and ready. Ye can go whenever ya’ want. I don’t like you leaving, but there it be,” Mr. Tarr said as he held out one hand.

Donnor grasped his hand, then pulled him in further to clasp forearms like brothers or warriors. “I have to, Jarrod. We came here to relieve Moran and head further south, and I’ve only held us here till we were relieved. You heard my orders to relieve the western and southern villages; we’ve barely begun. But we’ll miss everything you’ve done for us here.”

“Bash. We’d not be here if not for you. I’ll not hear of it,” Jarrod said, uncomfortably, then pumped Donnor’s arm and released him. He and every other villager still remembered the pile of ondilaani corpses they’d burned where the barn used to be, and the fact that it took three days to burn them as well.

“Anyway, we need to go,” Donnor said, realizing he’d never convince Mr. Tarr that he was a man like any other.

The villagers had showered Donnor with thanks after the battle, and he’d spent as much time as he could making sure every single one of them involved in the defense of the village had gotten their thanks as well. But no matter what he did, the villagers saw him as the person to thank because he’d ultimately been in charge. At least he’d been more successful than Ari, he thought. They’d only hoisted the title of ‘Commander’ on him, the title he officially held. And, they still seemed to remember he had a name half the time.

“And we’ll be taking over for you here once you do, peasant,” Arnet piped in as he approached. “You are relieved of the defense of this village, Commander,” he continued in an officious manner. “You may depart at any time.”

“Why hello, Arnet,” Ari said, brightly. “How are you this fine morning?”

“Fine, Lady Saliantrea …” he replied, uncomfortably clearing his throat.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” she said, turning the full power of her smile on him. “Have you decided on what you’ll do next?”

“Ahem. Uh, yes. I’ve confirmed what you’ve reported with my own men, Lady. No one’s seen nor heard of the ondilaan for days. We are sending a patrol to the two western villages while you and your … troop … head south. Then we will be returning to Redtail.”

“Oh! That’s a lot to do! Are you sure you can accomplish it all?” she asked, blinking up at him.

“Of course, Lady Saliantrea. Easily. I arrived with three times your number, after all. Resthaven is secure now that I am in charge,” he concluded, not seeing Jarrod rolling his eyes.

“Well, that’s certainly a relief, Arnet,” Donnor said, intentionally not using his title. Donnor had learned from Moran that Arnet came from a minor noble house in Tatdavarr, and Donnor had been amusing himself addressing Arnet by name. Since they were both technically the same rank under the auspices of Lord Maorilan, there was nothing Arnet could do about it. And the fact that they were, and he could not, was slowly driving Arnet mad.

Before Arnet could reply, Ari looked past him to the table. “A map!” she exclaimed as she glided over. No one who knew her believed her vapid delight in the least, and as she leaned over the map a glowing ball of light suddenly popped into existence beside her. “Is this where we’ll be going?” she asked, brightly.

Oldsby had told her shortly after Arnet had arrived that Arnet was utterly uncomfortable around magic, and thoroughly confused by her actions. Apparently Arnet and his men had been ordered by Lord Maorilan to treat her with every courtesy, as if she were a royal herself. And an unmarried woman of station travelling with a band of irregulars through the wilderness conflicted with Arnet’s image of how someone of royal rank should behave.

Ari didn’t care, having over a hundred years of familiarity with her rank at home and the uselessness of her title. What was important to her was that she still didn’t forgive him for forcing her ilari into a duel, nor for calling her a whore, no matter what courtesy he gave her now. Not that Arnet would ever know, but she would never forget. Elves were masters of playing the long game, and Arnet was completely outclassed as she needled him publicly in a manner he couldn’t object to.

Arnet’s mouth opened and closed as Tommy’s mage globe popped into existence beside Arisaylia’s. Tommy normally didn’t like to show his ability outside of practice, but he’d been watching her needle Arnet with her magic for a while now. And he’d worked his mage globe into existence over the map because he didn’t like Arnet much either.

She grinned as his globe appeared, nodding approvingly at its steadiness. Besides, she said they should practice, Tommy thought as he returned her grin. She’d only extinguished her mage globes outside because of Saress’s mutterings; their guardian’s complaints getting louder and louder the closer to the center of the village they got.

“Yes. A map. Ahem. Well ...” Arnet paused, blinking a few times at the two hovering globes. He eyed the mage globes warily, shifting his feet as her globe drifted to hover nearby. “Perhaps … ahh … Lady Saliantrea, perhaps I should escort you to your men,” Arnet said, attempting to lead her away.

“Oh, poo.” Ari objected. Then she affected an empty-headed wonder, pointing towards this or that thing on the map while making excited noises to Tommy.

There was a loud snort from Mikus who turned away, fighting to hold in his laughter. His black beard was newly strung with beads, and they chimed against one another as he moved. Mikus, along with Karn and Turred, had gathered around a fire one night a few days after the final battle chanting mournfully in their tongue. Whatever the reason was known only to them, as they’d blatantly ignored every question as if the questioner wasn’t even there, but the beads appeared shortly thereafter. He’d mentioned they were significant to his clan, but refused to say anything else about them ever since they’d appeared. And the three of them polished their beads endlessly.

“There’s no need to hurry, Arnet. We can take the time to show Lady Saliantrea the area, right?” Donnor asked.

“Ahem, yes, well …”

“Great! Glad you agree. Thanks for the light, Ilari. Could one of you move your light a little bit this way so everyone can see?” Donnor asked, pointing to the side of the map closest to Arnet.

Ari’s mage globe drifted its way over towards Arnet, settling in right next to his shoulder, a handspan from his face. Arnet shifted uncomfortably, watching it out of the corner of his eye while Donnor continued to speak.

“Thanks, Ilari. Okay, here we are in Resthaven,” Donnor said, pointing to the map. “That’s Redtail Hold off to the east, and way over there is the clanhold of the western dwarves. There are two villages just west of Resthaven, here and here, that Moran and Oldsby are going to patrol. So, we can ignore those for now.

“South of us are seven villages total, including Lakeside. Three of them are along the Serensea, three further west along the hills here, and one at the mouth of the southern valley.

“This whole area between the ‘sea and the hills is the most fertile farmland for hundreds of leagues in any direction this side of the Sunset Peaks. So, it’s farmed pretty heavily, with shipments of foodstuffs and grains being sent to Redtail Hold and then further east through the mountains to Tatdavarr. We were never involved in that trade in Lakeside because we fished and just shipped our catch over the ‘sea, but for the other villages, this is what they do.

“The first place we’re going to go is this village here, just south and east of Resthaven. Varmen’s Shoal is a little over two days march to the south of us through these woods, and sits right on the shores of the Serensea just like Lakeside did. They mainly fish, but most of the shipments from the villages further south go to either the Shoal or Harper’s Creek before being sent by boat to the Hold. Hopefully, the people there will have word of what’s going on further south since Varmen’s Shoal doesn’t appear to be on the route the ondilaan took to get here. And, since it wasn’t directly on their path of advance, I’m hoping the Shoal’s still intact.

“From there, we’ll move further south along the shore to Brookside. It sits inland along a little stream, and Arnet’s said that the Hold’s fishermen have seen smoke from something burning either in the area of Brookside itself, or just south of it. If there’s burning, there’s probably ondilaan. So, I’m expecting to find them there. And that’s where we’ll most likely have our first engagement.

“From Brookside, if everything goes well, we have a couple of options. We can continue south along the Serensea to Harper’s Creek, and then to Lakeside. Or, we can go west and a little south and come to the three villages in the hills.

“The stream that runs through Harper’s Creek comes out of the ground along the hills here, and the village of Windyspring sits right beside its origin. Halfway between the two along the creek is Lindendale, and a little north of them both is Silverlake which is named for the small lake it sits on.

“There are some scattered hamlets and other smaller settlements, but we’re mostly going to concentrate on the larger villages and only check on the smaller ones if we can. If the ondilaan outnumber us too badly, we come back here. If not, we keep going south and do what we can till we hit Torensdell, down here at the mouth of the valley.”

“It sounds like a decent plan, Donnor,” Ari said, eyes dancing with mischief. Then the mage globe at Arnet’s shoulder drifted slowly to rest directly in front of his face before winking out of existence with a slight ‘pop’. Arnet jumped, something he almost successfully hid.

“Why don’t we go join the troop, Ilari? Coming, Arnet?” she asked as she hooked her arm through Donnor’s and led him towards the door.

Mikus, who sounded like he was choking on something, joined them, walking away in his rolling gait. Tommy’s mage globe winked out as he followed along behind, grinning broadly. And Jarrod was coughing, red in the face, as he turned away towards the bar.

Arnet mumbled, “Yes, well …” staring dumbly at where the globe had been. Then he shook himself, clearing his throat a couple times before following their retreating backs, his staff’s heroically blank faces following along behind.

The Troop

Tommy walked out of the inn and into the morning sun where the troop was waiting. The men were lined up in ranks with their equipment in hand, waiting patiently for the order to leave. Most were wearing the same kit they had when they started: either spear, knife, and shield; or, bow, quiver, and knife. But beyond their arms and armor, a lot of their equipment had been destroyed when the barn was overrun, and they’d been struggling to replace it over the past week.

Luckily, there’d been a plethora of arms and armor taken from the ondilaan that they’d been able to adapt for their use. After separating out all the usable leather, Martok had worked long and hard with the tanners to replace what they’d lost. Everyone at least had a pack again, the tanners delegating this task to their children, but some of them looked kind of rough. And the matching gear they’d had when they left Redtail was gone.

On top of replacing the packs, Martok had finished armoring everyone as best as he could. Working with Rarton, Resthaven’s smith, they’d created enough buckled straps to give everyone bracers and a helmet. He’d wanted to do more, and there were a lot of villagers who had offered to help, but his da’ had said there really wasn’t time. No matter how much Donnor wanted more armor, other villages were in danger, and the troop had to leave.

The bracers covered the entire forearm from thumb to elbow and protected against attacks when the ondilaan got too close. There was a little hole you stuck your thumb through that left your palm and fingers exposed, and once you hand was in, it wrapped around your arm before being strapped tightly down. They were stiff and a little uncomfortable, but Martok and the tanners assured everyone that they’d get used to them.

The helmet, however, Tommy wasn’t too sure of. First of all, it stunk, with there being no way to entirely get the ondilaan’s stink out of it. It was a cloying odor that you only really smelled once you put it on. And the other problem was they were hot. Once you cinched the strap going under your chin, it completely trapped the heat. But the hardened leather helmet would surely protect them better, and both his da’ and Mikus had talked long and often about how important it was to wear them.

The men had a moment of fun when they first got them by banging their heads against each other and being silly. The helmets had a firm leather skull cap that encircled the head and was padded underneath. Wide cheek flaps were sewn onto the cap, covering most of the sides of their face, and there was a specially hardened strip of leather starting over the nose that travelled from front to back over the center of their head. Finally, there was another flap-like piece that covered the back of their necks that rested against their shoulders.

With all the leather they now wore, the troop creaked whenever they walked. Tommy felt kind of ridiculous going through drills with the troop surrounded by the creaking noise as they moved, but Mikus and his da’ were adamant. So, he remained quiet even though the others complained.

At least they don’t make us wear it all the time, Tommy thought, glancing down at the offending item. He wasn’t too sure he could take the stink.

Thankfully, nobody was wearing their helmets now, having tucked their straps through their belts. Everyone was in good spirits, with light chatter in the ranks as they waited to go. There was even some good-natured ribbing and catcalling of Tak, one of the halflings from first rank, who was currently being kissed soundly by Mrs. Hibold’s daughter. The farmer’s daughter was explaining to him with her lips just how much she wanted him to stay.

Tak and all the rest of the troop’s halflings were a little shorter than the gnomes, and the only difference between them at first glance was the gnome’s larger nose. But Tommy was learning that neither race should be taken lightly as everyone within the troop was putting on muscle. And, Tak’s typical halfling paunch did nothing to lessen the bulging biceps that had been developing since he’d joined the troop.

Keris was standing off to the side talking to Mr. Calz’s son, one of the new recruits who’d asked to go with them. There’d been five villagers who’d ultimately been accepted into the troop, all of whom had lost someone in the attack. Tommy looked at each of them, easily picking them out as they stood awkwardly within the ranks, unaccustomed to their new gear.

Larn Calz, son of the loggers who’d help defend the southern edge of the village, had a brother who’d died during the assault. He was a hugely muscular man and almost as tall as Gart. Gart had taken Larn under his wing when he’d been assigned to second rank, and the two of them got along well. Larn held his spear awkwardly, still unused to it while leaning on it like a pole as he spoke with Keris. But, strapped to his back was his long handled felling axe, and Tommy knew from practice that it went exactly wherever Larn wanted it to go.

Kordin Jaltol, a gnome, joined out of a feeling of debt, beside himself that one of the Calz’s had died to protect his family. Walp and Donnor had told him repeatedly that nothing was required and no debt had been incurred, but Kordin was adamant. His family stood off to the side in tears next to the Calz’s, his father looking on with pride as his son stood next to the two dwarves in first rank.

Next to Dorn, the only human left in first rank, were Feya Bunlip and her sister Deya. The two teenage gnomes were twins; their entire family lost during the final attack. They were wracked with guilt after being hidden away in their family’s loft during the assault. They’d watched through the floorboards in horror as their family was slaughtered trying to defend their home. It had been Canner and Hartok who had cleared their house and rescued them, and Tommy couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been. But they drilled with the troop determinedly, despite him hearing their quiet crying almost every night when everyone turned in.

And last was Petal Valen. The doe-eyed teen was the last person in the world Tommy would have guessed who would join, but she was fixated on going along. She had been on the roof of the inn with her father and brothers, using her skill with a bow during the final battle. No one had expected the sweet, innocent looking teen to be so deadly with a bow, but she was. Even Saress was impressed as she hit the center of target after target, firing until her fingers bled in an effort to prove her worth.

Her family had argued loud, long, and hard, for days against her coming along, but had finally admitted defeat. The family of hunters had trained her themselves; and her threat to leave on her own, with or without their leave, was not an empty one. The only way to keep her was to tie her up, and she’d defiantly told them so, daring them to try.

Petal had lost her first love and two close friends that horrible night, setting her resolve in stone. And her mother was in hysterics off to the side, sobbing uncontrollably after admitting defeat. Petal was visibly uncomfortable, watching her mother’s face buried in her father’s chest.

“Jarrod, are you sure we’re good for food?” Donnor asked as he looked out over the troop.

“Stop worrying, Donnor. Like I been sayin’ inside, you’re ready to go. We’ve had almost a week now since the funerals, and we’ve brought in a lot of game. We dried all o’ it like you asked in case the ondilaan be coming back, and we decided to give most of it to you since Commander Arnet gave us his blessing. Along with a few weights of milled grain, you’ve enough to be lasting a few weeks if you use it sparingly, and can’t hunt for yourselves.”

“Thanks, Jarrod. Sorry, it’s force of habit.”

“He be tha’ same way when we be leavin’ tha’ Vale, Jarrod. Always worryin’ himself abou’ this or tha’ wee little thing.” Mikus grinned.

“Hey! What we don’t take, we don’t have, Mikey.”

“Aye, Commander, yer’ lordship, sir. Aye. Don’t be goin’ an’ fergettin’ yer’ head while ya’ be worryin’.”

“Is he at it again, Mikus?” Keris asked as he joined them.

“Aye. He be havin’ his knickers up in a twist, thinkin’ he be fergettin’ somethin’ again. Pretty soon he be checkin’ his breeches in case he’s fergettin’ his manhood.”

“Oh, shut up,” Donnor said to Mikus’s toothy grin. “Jarrod, how about the other supplies?”

“You’re fine. But we couldn’t fit everything else you wanted on your correts, so we’re giving you one of the artocks.”

“I still say it’s too much.”

“I know you do, but I asked around like you wanted and the opinion was unanimous. The village wants you to have the artock and take it with you.”

“And I have to accept it, too. Don’t I?”

Mr. Tarr chuckled. “Yes, Commander. Yes, you do.” Then he chuckled again while Donnor sighed. He knew Donnor was annoyed by the title and tried to use it sparingly, but whenever he needed to make his point, he pulled it out to make Donnor give in.

“The artock is carrying every other thing we could think of. You have some leather and cloth for repairs, some rope, as many bandages and herbs as we could safely provide, and a few skins of that tea to keep you awake. Along with that, there are extra arrows, bowstrings, knives, and tools you may need. We even managed to make some extra packs, helmets, bracers, and jerkins. So, you have those as well.

“There’s enough grain for the artock for a few days in case it can’t graze. Mrs. Hibold talked with your two handlers and put in some supplies for it in case it needs care on the road. And finally, there are some random things we felt you could use. I even threw in an old cauldron and some spoons I don’t use any more.”

“Thank you, Jarrod. And make sure you thank everyone else as well.”

“You already have, so think nothin’ of it. And anyway, it should be me thankin’ you.”

Donnor locked eyes with him for a moment before clasping forearms with him again, then turned away.

“Moran? Oldsby?” Donnor clasped forearms with each of them as they were named. “Take care of yourselves. It’ll be a long time before we come this way again. I hope I’ll see you again in better times.”

“They’ll both be here when you come back, Commander,” Taylin said, smiling, while hooking her arm in Moran’s. “At least this one will be. I think I’ve finally convinced Garret to stay,” she said, beaming up at him.

“Miss, I’ve told you before. Sergeant Moran is a member of the Redtail Guard. His duty station is a military matter, and your opinion has no say in it,” Arnet put in from behind. “If he is ordered to return to Redtail Hold, he will return to the Hold.”

“Don’t you be telling me he’s leaving, Commander!” she snapped, turning quickly and poking a finger in his chest. “He’ll stay right here if I say he’ll stay! I didn’t care for him, then sew him up, to have him leave!”

“Young lady, Sergeant Moran will go where he’s ordered.”

“And I’ll be telling you where he’ll go! And no commander from Redtail is going to be taking my man away from me! And while he works himself up to be askin’ me, he won’t be going nowhere! I say he stays, so he stays!”

Moran blushed bright red as Taylin publicly declared herself for him. It had been obvious to everyone she’d taken a liking to him, following him around whenever she could, and Tommy thought he liked her in return. But right now, the sergeant looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground as Taylin tore into Arnet.

“Young lady, you will control yourself.”

“Don’t you ‘young lady’ me!”

“Mr. Tarr, control your daughter.”

“Taylin, dear—”

“And don’t you ‘Taylin dear’ me neither! I say Garret Moran stays, so he stays!” she declared, stomping one tiny foot firmly on the ground.

“Ummm, Taylin?” Garret asked.

“What?” she demanded, fire in her eyes.

“Never mind,” he said, holding up both hands placatingly. “It can wait.”

There were chuckles all around as Sergeant Moran meekly shut up.

“Keris, Mikus, Saress? Join your ranks. Ari, Tommy? You too,” Donnor said, trying to keep his laughter out of his voice.

Everyone split up as Taylin continued to lecture Commander Arnet on what he was, and was not, allowed to do with his sergeant. Every now and then Tommy heard Arnet’s baritone reply, but he couldn’t quite make out his words. But Ari had a satisfied smile on her face, and she periodically looked back and nodded at some point Taylin was making that only she could hear. He had to admit it was funny with little Taylin poking the big muscular Arnet in the chest. And by Ari’s reaction, Taylin was doing quite well for herself, too.

Tommy and Ari took their place at the end of the ranks, behind the archers and with the animals. Alarat and Camm were there already, having divvied up their new duties between them. Camm, who had trained and broken animals before, took the more difficult correts, leading them both with long reins he held in one hand.

The giant flightless birds stood well behaved for him, and as Tommy watched, Camm casually bent down to pick a rock stuck between one of their thick claws. The corret in question stomped its powerful leg when he was done, eying Camm balefully though the gnome didn’t seem to mind. The birds were known for being mean and ornery, and more than one person had had their fingers nipped before they learned to give them their space.

The nipping was done by a sharp, hooked beak that they snapped at anything of interest. Unfortunately for the unwary, they could reach quite a bit as their small heads were atop long necks. And right now, those heads and necks were moving chaotically about as the correts eyed the people moving here and there around them.

The looking was done with two sets of eyes, which had been startling to Tommy at first. The larger pair was golden, and beyond being how big they were they appeared like normal eyes. But the other pair was tiny in comparison and centered directly over their beak. It gave them an almost eerie, insectile appearance, especially since the central pair was red and seemed to glow in low light. His da’ had told him they could see in the dark and were used as guards on the plains, but Tommy didn’t care, never having gotten over their eerie glow. He was pretty sure they eyed him hungrily even to this day, no matter how much he’d been around them on their journey here.

Alarat was behind the correts standing next to the troop’s new artock. The animal was huge, standing quietly and munching on some grass. Its back was higher than a man, with six legs, a long, wide head, and a tail that was almost as long as it was. Artocks were covered in shaggy grey hair, and they gave off a musty odor somewhere between a horse and a cow. They were slow and ponderous but immensely strong, and were mostly used to pull huge wagons carrying supplies. And the troop was using their new beast for this purpose as well, as piled upon the platform on its back were the supplies his da’ and Mr. Tarr had been talking about just moments ago.

After everyone was in their places, Donnor moved to stand before the troop. “TROOP, REST!” he called out. The general din of conversation dwindled away as every man and woman of the troop snapped into position.

“Relax! Today, we leave for Varmen’s Shoal, and as far as we know, it still stands. We go there, fight any ondilaan we encounter, and ensure the safety of the village before moving on. Any problems, we come back here.

“If there aren’t any problems, we head south to Brookside. Fishermen from Redtail sighted smoke near Brookside that stopped about two weeks ago; roughly the time of our first battle here. I don’t know if it was the same ondilaan we fought, or another group, but it doesn’t matter. I’m expecting to encounter them there, and we need to fight them when we can. Are there any questions?”

There was silence in the ranks. No one had any questions after Donnor’s summary of what they were doing. He’d been keeping the men up to date on their situation as he learned it, sometimes even a couple times a day. After a while where he didn’t continue, a scattering of ‘No, Commanders’ came from the ranks.

“Excellent. I want to make sure you know you did a great thing here. Look around you,” Donnor said, waving his arms and directing their attention to the village and people around them. “Look,” he prompted when some of them didn’t react.

“Everyone you see here today is alive because of you. Every building still standing is because of you. Every breath you take is taken because of you. And everyone here is grateful for what you’ve done, including me.”

“Martok, Nalin, Durn, Immer, Gart, and all the rest of you, you did this. And you did a damn fine job.”

Chests swelled as Donnor turned away, looking at the villagers nearby. He saw sadness in some of their eyes and came to a decision. Turning towards them, he addressed the villagers as a whole.

“You have all gone through a terrible time. My home was destroyed, just as theirs were, just like some of yours have been. I’m sorry we couldn’t have done more, and I’m sorry we have to leave, but our mission is not only to Resthaven. Lord Maorilan commanded me to go further south and help out the villages there, and I will.

“Commander Arnet and his forces will stay here for the coming days while Sergeants Moran and Oldsby check on the villages west of here. And when they return, Arnet will leave Moran and Oldsby to defend you while he marches back to Redtail and tells Lord Maorilan of what you’ve accomplished here. Be proud of what you’ve done, you’ve accomplished more than most.”

Tommy saw tears in the eyes of the villagers as he looked around. A few of them exchanging nods of appreciation with the troop while others looked towards where some of the buildings had been.

His da’ continued, “Think about it. Weeks ago, Moran arrived and fought a battle and won. Then he was betrayed from within, many of his men being killed by the mutineers. You were scared, hurt, and abused during that time, but there was nothing you could do about it. Oldsby arrived a little while later and killed the betrayers, but even more men were killed in the process. And all the while the ondilaan were out there, waiting.

“Then we got here, and you didn’t much want us. We didn’t blame you; you’d already been through so much. Your homes destroyed, your food taken by strange men, your people hurt and abused; it was a terrible position to be in. But in the end you let us help you, and look at what you’ve accomplished.

“You’ve survived not only one battle, but two. You, ordinary people, you did this. And yes, we were there to fight them, but we couldn’t have done it without you. Who built the barricades? You did. Who took care of the wounded? You did. Who cooked the food? Who repaired what they could? And when that final battle came, who took up arms to protect your homes? You did.”

Donnor paused, slowly looking around into the silence. “And you should be very proud,” he concluded as chests swelled.

“I was going to just leave, but from what I can see there are some more goodbyes to be said. We’re not going to be coming back this way for a long, long time. Easily months. And, we’ll miss you. We are going to every village south of here to see how they are doing, and to do what we can to prevent what happened here in Resthaven from ever happening again.

“TROOP, RELAX, but remain in place. The rest of you, if you have any last-minute goodbyes, please say them now. We leave in a moment.” And with that, Donnor stepped back to talk with Commander Arnet and Mr. Tarr.

The villagers approached the waiting troop hesitantly at first, but then with fervor. They swarmed the ranks with tears, hugs, and shaky smiles. Words of encouragement and promises of seeing one another were made and given. Some of the men were even given flowers; and whether embarrassed or not, the gifts were well received. And there were a lot of chuckles as Tak was once again attacked by Mrs. Hibold’s daughter, who seemed to have it in her mind to kiss him to death.

Tommy felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Pari standing there beside him. This was the closest she’d been to him since her healing, and he was surprised to see her in the crowd, knowing how uncomfortable around people she’d become. She was slightly shorter than he was, and her light brown hair drifted in the breeze as she met his eyes.

“I wanted to say thank you. I don’t know what you did for me, but I felt it. Feel it. The healing, I mean … I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, Tommy, and I’ll make sure my child remembers it, too,” she said, placing one hand on her belly.

She gazed upon his face, her deep brown eyes glinting in the sun. “Thank you, Tommy,” she said quietly. “Be safe.” Pari hugged him quickly before kissing him on the cheek, then slipped away without another word.

Tommy was dumbfounded and didn’t know what to say as she melted back into the crowd. He finally found his voice and called after her “Pari?” but of her there was no sign. He looked around, trying to catch sight of her once more, but she was gone. She’d avoided him since her healing, as she’d avoided all the men, and he was disappointed. He’d really wanted to talk to her, having felt the urge to since her healing even though he didn’t know what to say.

“I asked Taylin to watch out for her, Tomilanthus,” Ari said from his side. “I knew Pari wanted to thank you, but it was up to her if she would. She’s told Taylin that she dreams about you now and then, and she was worried that our Tol did something to her and her child. It says a lot that she overcame her fear to come and see you, let alone speak to you, with everything she’s been through. And she’s been through a lot, Tomilanthus. You made her life better. Take pride in that, if nothing else. And her gift to you says something as well.”

“Gift? What gift?”

“Look down, Tomilanthus.”

Confused, Tommy looked down and noticed something peeking out of his belt. It was a tiny bunch of flowers; some white, and others a bright blueish green, all tied up together with a simple length of string. He wondered how Pari had gotten it into his belt as he pulled them out to look at them.

“The white ones are common meadow lilies, light and pure, which denote friendship if you put any meaning behind them. The others are rare and hard to find, found only in the deepest forest. They are called sylvanhearts, and only grow where very little sun shines. But once established they almost never die off, surviving fire, drought, and even freezing temperatures, for years.

“It is rare for anyone to know the language of flowers, but her gift to you explains the questions she’s been asking me these past few days. Taylin has decided to become more than a midwife, and I’ve been tutoring her in herbs and remedies so she can officially become the village healer. She’s taken Pari under her wing, and Pari has been more and more present during our lessons.

“To an elf, Tomilanthus, Pari’s gift is a declaration of friendship to you. Forever. That she had been lighthearted and free, and that she has seen and lived through the darkness, but that her friendship for you will never die. You have made quite an impact, my son, and I am proud of you.”

Tommy looked from Ari to the flowers and back again, not knowing what to say. Then it hit him that this was the first time that Ari had openly called him her son. His mother’s emerald eyes shone with pride, and he felt as if her Tol was somehow smiling at him as well. He tucked the flowers back into his belt and looked around, wishing he’d had the chance to thank Pari properly.

But something caught his eye, and he saw the strange bird from before settling onto the roof of the inn. It cocked its head, seeming to study all the people, before taking to wing once more and flying off, its bright orange feathers catching the noontime sun and shimmering as it flew. He finally lost sight of it and continued looking around before dropping his gaze to the upper floor of the inn.

And there she was. Pari, in the window of the room where Ari and he had healed the villagers. She was standing in the shadows, looking out and meeting his gaze. He raised his hand and then plucked the flowers out of his belt, and showed them to her. ‘Thank you’, he mouthed, knowing she couldn’t hear.

She offered a small, gentle smile, the same smile she’d given him many times before. But now he understood its significance. Not the wary and uncomfortable smile of someone who didn’t know what to say, but a smile of friendship from someone who had looked on and seen the darkness.

They seemed to connect with their eyes and he felt something in that connection, something warm. She stepped forward into the light, her eyes catching the rays of the sun as it came through the window. Then raising one hand, she offered a simple wave and backed away, disappearing from his sight.

“TROOP, REST!” his da’ called out, and everyone snapped into position.

Tommy glanced towards the window hoping to see Pari again, but she never appeared. He still felt the warmth from that moment they’d shared, and for some reason, he felt like she’d be okay.

His da’ waited for the villagers to move out of the ranks, which took a little while. Mrs. Hibold’s daughter finally having to be led away, devastated that ‘her Tak’ was leaving her.

“TROOP! We leave by the southern trail. Saress? SCOUTS OUT!”

Saress and the archers had obviously been waiting for his da’s command. She made a few hand gestures, the archers splitting into pairs as they broke ranks and trotted away into position. Petal, the last archer, was left unpaired and joined Tommy and Ari, giving them a small, nervous smile.

“Mikus? Keris? Guide us out. TROOP! FACE TO THE RIGHT, WALK!”

And with Mikus and Keris in the lead, the troop marched away towards the south, the villagers calling their farewells behind them.

An Uncomfortable Talk

It was strange being back on the road after spending so much time in Resthaven. Tommy knew at heart they were never going to stay, but it had almost become a second home for him. They had suffered and fought, made friends and lost them, and generally become used to being there. It was hard to walk away.

They’d left the village center, walking in ranks past the new smithy and then out into the fields. The cairn was off to the side, and Tommy was glad they didn’t walk directly by it, not needing to be reminded of all the people who’d died. There were a few shouted goodbyes before they got to the woodline, but they continued on without pausing and entered into the cool, quiet, shade of the trees.

Saress was at his da’s side as they walked along, having sent the majority of her archers off to various positions around the troop. Three pairs she sent far ahead along the trail, one of which would periodically stop until they caught sight of the troop before disappearing once again. Then she placed the other two pairs on either side of the trail, ordering them to stay within sight of the troop as they travelled along.

A short time after entering the trees, Mikus took the lead with first rank while Keris and the rest followed along behind. They allowed the men to talk freely as they walked, but called out from time to time to see if anyone had seen this or that thing, making sure the men were watching all around. His da’ moved up and down the line, checking on everyone and generally making sure his presence was known.

“You doing okay back here?” Donnor asked after an hour or so.

“We are fine, Ilari. How far are we travelling today?”

“Just till sundown. The whole point of today is not to make distance, but to get everyone used to being back on the road. It’ll take a day or two for everyone to get their minds back on it, so that’s why Saress has her archers so far out.”

“Any worries?”

“No. Even Arnet had his men join the patrols this far out. There’ve been no signs of the ondilaan for about a day and a half in any direction. We should have a nice pleasant walk, bunk down for the night, then we’ll go back to doing it the dwarven way tomorrow.”

“Good. Then go back to your men, Ilari.” Ari smiled. “We’re fine back here. I’ll see you tonight.”

Donnor smirked and saluted her with a fist to his chest, before turning and moving back up the line.

“The dwarven way?” Petal asked after he was gone.

“Aye. We did it the whole way here,” Tommy answered. “Mikus and Da’ say the dwarves always train as they march. So, we walk for a bit, train for a while, then start back up and walk some more. A couple times we just walk while Da’ or Mikus explain things, but we always stop eventually to train. Saress has the archers shoot every chance they get and was starting to train them to shoot on the move before we got to Resthaven.”

“Huh,” she said, before jerking sharply to the side. One of the correts snapped up something near her feet.

“Sorry, miss. They’re a bit hard to stop when they see something they’re interested in,” Camm said, yanking on its lead.

Petal eyed the corret nervously as it swallowed, then shuddered when it stretched its neck out to look behind it. The other one had its neck down near the ground, cocking its head this way and that, looking around Petal’s feet. It seemed to be watching for anything else it might find interesting, randomly nipping the ground.

“They’re strange, aren’t they?” Tommy asked.

“Strange? They’re more than strange ... terrifying I’d call them,” she said as the first corret turned its eyes back on her. The central pair seemed to regard the two of them balefully, glowing red in the shade of the trees.

“I was afraid of them too. You eventually kind of get used to them. But don’t try and pet them,” Tommy admonished, “they bite.”

“Pet them? Who in the world would want to pet them?” Petal asked, keeping one eye on the birds. She began walking a little faster as the two birds started pecking around her feet.

Alarat called from behind them from where he was leading the artock. “I think they like you, Petal. You ever think of taking one on as a pet?”

“No!” She shuddered, periodically shying away as one or the other got close. Then she finally gave in and skipped in front of Tommy when one of the correts snapped at something on the ground next to her foot.

Alarat and Camm chuckled, progressing to laughter as the correts started pecking wherever her feet fell. Then she noticed a feather sticking out of the muck on the heel of her boot, one of the correts snapping it up as she dropped it to the ground behind her.

Petal let out a firm “humph” at the two gnomes, and Ari shushed them when they doubled over laughing. Petal stalked away with her chin held high, but never did stop eying the birds.

They continued on through the forested hills until the sun began to set. His da’ sent Saress off to find a place to camp for the night, and her archers guided them to a shallow dell with a huge boulder off to one side. Tommy heard Saress telling his da’ that there was a spring coming out of the hill not far to the east.

The troop broke off in ranks as they set their gear up for the night. Each archer was paired up with someone from first or second rank, then taken out by Saress to form the watches. Keris called out saying he’d need a tour of the sites when she was done, and Saress waved one hand acknowledging him as she led the men away.

Tommy’s group helped unload the animals, just like they’d done on the way to Resthaven. The correts were commanded to sit with a tap from their handler’s spear, then they took the loads off their backs while the birds eyed them balefully. Then, like normal, they started preening themselves where the packages had sat against their necks, looking all the while like two balls of fluff with snakes sticking out of one end. Tommy watched them worrying their feathers, remembering Camm saying there was a gland behind their necks that the packages rubbed against.

Dealing with the artock was new, and it was a lengthy process to free it from its burden. The platform on its back was held on with two wide straps that went between the front, middle, and back pairs of legs. These two straps were loosened from the immense animal, then four posts were taken off the platform. One post was placed in each corner, then with the help of the men, the platform was raised up one corner at a time until it was completely off the artock’s back. Once the platform was raised, the belly straps were removed.

The artock didn’t seem too affected by all the commotion going on around it. Placidly munching on some grass, it contentedly watched the strange creatures that gave it food grunt and make noise. It seemed very happy to have the heavy platform off its back, though, willing to stand and wait while the troop struggled to lift it. But it did startle everyone at one point, powerfully stomping one of its middle legs when the strap tickled it as it was removed.

After securing the posts to the platform with a system of straps, the artock was led out from underneath into a simple roped off area for it to wander in. Meanwhile, a short ladder was set up against the now freestanding platform, and Petal clambered up to take up watch with Ladig, who was one of the gnomes from first rank.

“Ari, would you set up by the platform for the night? Saress and I are assigning Petal to your group so we don’t split up any of the established pairs of archers. So, make a place for her with you there as well. I’m going to let everyone eat dinner, then I need to talk to them for a bit,” Donnor said before walking away.

Tommy, Ari, Alarat, and Camm moved their gear over by the platform to set up. It was kind of strange to Tommy, having the platform in camp. It was almost like a short, tiny tower that the troop gathered around. Ari and he laid out their bedrolls, then Petal’s after telling her she’d been assigned to them for the night.

By this time, the troop had already finished setting up their gear, and a fire was merrily burning up against the boulder while they all relaxed and ate. The animals were led away one by one to get water while everyone else filled their skins and stretched out, some even taking off their boots to rub their feet. Mikus and Keris moved among the ranks, checking on everyone and making sure there were no problems amongst the men.

After about half an hour, Saress wandered back into camp. “Donnor, the watches are set. We’re ready for the night.”

“Thank you, Saress. Take your rest. I’m going to have a talk with the men before you take Keris out. Everyone? Let me have your attention, then you can all get some sleep.”

It took a minute, but the limmen nut battle between first and second rank eventually died down. The final victory for second rank was when Sollip managed to flick one of the limmen nut caps right off of Turred’s nose. After a cheer and a “Alright, damn ye’, that’s enough” from Mikus, everyone quieted down.

“I thought about not having this talk, the talk we’re about to have, quite a bit. But we’ve all fought together, and Mikus, Keris, and Saress, all agree. I need to make a point about Resthaven, and what happened there.

“We were lucky ....”

His da’ paused for a moment, quietly looking around and making sure he had everyone’s attention.

“… and every last one of us should be dead.”

There was a profound silence following Donnor’s statement as everyone looked back and forth at each other, not quite believing what they’d heard. They’d just spent the day in high spirits, bragging about their victory and about what would happen if they ran into the ondilaan again. After what his da’ said this morning back in Resthaven, his words here just didn’t make any sense.

“I can see a lot of you don’t believe me, but I’m not going to lie. Not after everything we’ve been through. And even though we were incredibly lucky, it still doesn’t take away from what you did back in Resthaven. But we can’t depend on something like that, or those sequence of events, ever happening again. And everything we accomplished in Resthaven depended on magic from Ari and Tommy over there.”

All eyes turned to them, and Tommy was acutely uncomfortable with suddenly being the center of attention. He thought back over everything he’d done, remembering only adding to the power that allowed Ari to heal more than she normally could. He didn’t feel like he’d done very much at all, not like her. But Dorn caught his eye, rubbing his arm where it had been all but severed and then reattached. It had been done through the use of their Tol, and it brought what they’d done home to him with startling clarity.

Ari sat at his side, utterly unmoved as far as Tommy could tell. Whispers of ‘the Lady’ could softly be heard, and she acknowledged them with dignity and poise. But he felt her Tol give a powerful pulse of emotion as it roiled underneath her calm features. She hated being looked upon with the awe she’d been shown, and more than one member of the troop still openly did so.

“Let’s go over some basic things. Some basic facts so you understand what I mean,” his da’ said, calling attention back to himself. “There were forty-one of us when we left Redtail. Three of us were killed and fifteen more wounded when we were ambushed at the stream. If Ari hadn’t been there, we would have had to turn back to Redtail. That would have easily taken two days, and we would’ve had to start all over again. But she was there and did what she did, so we arrived in Resthaven with thirty-eight of us remaining.

“When we got to Resthaven, Moran and Oldsby only had twenty-seven people between them. Moran was injured, poisoned, and close to death, and so were nine of his men. At the first battle there would have only been eighteen men left, and Moran would have been dead, if Ari hadn’t healed them … but she did.

“Our first battle in Resthaven had sixty-five people fighting, combined. There were about eighty ondilaan corpses when they retreated. They killed nine of us outright, and after Ari and Tommy did what they did, we had twenty-two men left wounded, but alive and recovering in the inn.

“The final battle started with thirty-four people fighting, along with the eighteen villagers who volunteered to defend their homes. We did everything we could, improving the barricades, staying out of sight to hide our numbers, and waited them out. But when it comes right down to it, we were being overrun right there at the end, and I was about to call our retreat to the inn.

“I want to stress this so there’s no mistaking ...” He paused again, looking out into the troop.

“… We were losing.”

The silence was total.

“Our correts and the artocks gave us a moment to catch our breath when they spooked, but we were losing. And if Ari and Tommy hadn’t once again did what they’d done, there would have been no counter charge by Oldsby and the people they’d healed. There would have been no way to push them out of the village center. And there would have been no way to keep pushing them out into the fields where we finally defeated them.

“We stopped counting with well over a hundred ondilaan corpses, but we only lost eight more. And between Moran, Oldsby, and the villagers, there were only twenty-eight more deaths, not including the four families who were slaughtered in their homes.

“Sure, almost everyone was wounded, some horribly so. But that’s well over a hundred enemy killed for only thirty-six of our own. And it’s all because of those two over there. They didn’t fight in the last battle, but they carried all of us through it on their shoulders. Not me, not Mikus, not Keris, or Saress … they did. And every last one of us would be dead if not for them.”

His da’ looked old, tired, and worn. And he paused, taking time to look directly into everyone’s eyes.

“We can’t fight and win the way we have, and you people deserve to know it. We were forced into the situation we faced in Resthaven, but there are not going to be any more pitched battles like that one if I can help it. I know Mikus touched on it on our way here, but let me repeat what he said: we are not heavy infantry. We don’t have the equipment or the numbers to take on a determined assault. We are strikers, flankers, meant to attack and then run away. We are not equipped to stand toe-to-toe with the enemy, hacking away at each other until only one of us is left standing.”

Donnor paused and looked around, seeming to judge everyone’s mood.

“Now I’m not telling you this to scare you. And I’m not trying to take away from anything you did back there. But I have to stress how lucky we were. And that I’m going to be doing everything I can not to let a situation like that ever happen again.

“Today, we are safe. There’ve been no signs of the ondilaan around here for about a week. But by the end of tomorrow, we’ll be out of the area we patrolled and back into the unknown. And the day after that, we come to Varmen’s Shoal.

“Starting tomorrow, we’ll be doing it the dwarven way once again. Travel and train, all day long. Every day. Even if you can do it without thinking about it. Even if you can do it in your sleep, we’re going to train. And we’re going to keep doing it that way until we’re done. Because another fight like Resthaven can never happen again.”

Donnor seemed to grow as he stood there, and they felt the weight of his determination as his gaze passed over them. He nodded firmly, then kept nodding, looking all around.

“Any questions?”

There was silence from the troop. Feya and Deya had tears in their eyes, and those tears had been there ever since his da’ had mentioned the families that were slaughtered. There was a cool breeze blowing that stirred the fire behind his da’, and the flames reached higher while it crackled and popped. But not a single person said a thing as Donnor looked over them and nodded once again, almost to himself.

“Good.”

Donnor took his time to look around. His gaze was gentle, but firm; kind, yet resolute. “You are going to become the best trained unit there is if I have anything to say about it. You are going to train, and train, and train some more. Until you’re sick of it. Then you’re going to train again, and no one is going to stand in your way. You have a lot of work ahead of you. And I’ll be there right beside you, all the way.

“Now get some sleep, we have a long way to go tomorrow. Mikus? Keris? Saress? They’re yours. Goodnight, everyone. I’ll see you in the morning.” Donnor saluted them all, fist to chest, before turning away and grabbing his gear, then walking over to join Tommy and Ari for the night.

His da’ was oblivious to the many ‘g’night, Commanders’ that followed in his wake. The three other leaders started telling their people to turn in and get some sleep, and conversation slowly returned as his da’ arrived at their fire and started spreading out his gear.

Tommy wasn’t sure what to think. He was at once proud and scared, never having thought of what Ari and he had done as that important. He wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t helped heal the men, and noticed Ari studying his da’ in concern. His da’ wasn’t looking at her, and her face was creased with a frown. No matter what happened, Tommy would do whatever he could for them both.

I won’t let them down.

“Ya’ were a little hard wi’ ‘em, doncha’ think?” Mikus asked as he ambled up.

“They needed to know.”

“Oh, aye, they needed ta’ know. An’ I be agreein’ they be needin’ ta’ know the truth o’ it, too. But ya’ dropped it on ‘em like a boulder ta’ tha’ head. Ya’ know better than ta’ do it like tha’. I know ya’ do. What’s gettin’ ta’ ya’?”

“It was something I heard.”

“Aye? Wha’ was tha’?” Mikus prompted when Donnor didn’t say anything.

Donnor looked over his shoulder towards the ranks. “A couple of them were talking about the fight near the end. How they were beating them back. How easy the ondilaan were defeated. They were talking about how they’d killed this one, then that one, and on, and on ... glorying in the fight,” his da’ said as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky.

“Aye, it be talk, is all. Crap talk, like everyone who be seein’ battle is will ta’ do. Ya’ know this, I be knowin’ ya’ do. An’ ya’ have fer’ years. What’s gettin’ ya’ on abou’ it this time?”

Donnor was quiet for a long time. “I almost lost them, Mikey.”

“Who?”

“Them,” his da’ said, hooking his thumb towards where Tommy and Ari sat. “And I’ll never forget it, either. Not till the end of my days.”

“Ilari …” Ari objected as she laid her hand on his chest. “You didn’t lose us.”

“I almost did. I thought you were unconscious, and we were about to be overrun. There was nothing I could do but go down in a blaze of glory … How stupid,” he trailed off.

He picked up a small rock from the ground beside his blankets, bouncing it absently in one hand. Donnor studied it in silence before casting it off into the woods.

“I lost you once Arisaylia Saliantrea, that was enough for me. I won’t lose you again. You and Tommy are all I have.”

“Ilari …” Ari began, pausing before speaking softly to him in elvish. His da’ did not respond, though he gently gripped the hand she kept on his chest, holding it in place. Tommy looked back and forth between them before moving to his own blankets and lying down, listening to Ari’s beautiful voice continue her one-sided conversation in elven.

Mikus looked at his friend in concern, then rose and walked away. He knew the battle had shaken his friend, but they’d been in fights before and Donnor had always gotten over it. He was always back to being in good spirits when the caravans returned, usually well before they reached Sirikii.

But Arisaylia had always been back in the city, he realized while he returned to his kit. She’d never once been at his side in battle, never once been in any danger that Donnor could see, and neither had his son.

Ach, well. What’s done is done. He’ll either be gettin’ over it, or I’ll be beatin’ some sense in ta’ him in tha’ mornin’. Blasted humans, always makin’ things harder than they be needin’ ta’ be ...

“Mr. Gemhands? Was it as bad as he said?” Deya asked as he sat down with his rank. Her eyes were still damp, and her sister looked up at him waiting for him to answer. Nalin was already asleep, kicking between his snores.

“Mikus, lass. And, aye, it was bein’ bad. But we all be pullin’ through. Now, we canna’ be havin’ you young lasses cryin’. Especially if we’re ta’ be makin’ warriors out of ye. There be nothin’ we can be doin’ abou’ yesterday, we can only be thinking abou’ today. An’ today you two be needin’ yer’ sleep ‘cause tomorrow, I’ll be workin’ ye hard. Ye two still be wantin’ ta’ be here, aye?”

“We’re not leaving, Mr. Gemhands,” Feya said fiercely. “And no one can make us, either. Not you, not anybody.”

“Good. I like yer’ fire, girl. Now get some sleep, we’ve trainin’ ta’ be had in tha’ mornin’.”

“Yes, Mikus,” they both said as they returned to their blankets, laying down for the night. And shortly thereafter, he heard their breathing slow before one of them, Feya he thought, started to snore.

But Mikus couldn’t sleep. It hurt him thinking about training the twins to take up arms at such a young age. They were both young women, old enough by the thinking of the land to be on their own, but they were still young. Maker, they were young. Young enough that they still looked for someone older than them to guide them through life.

Mikus let his eyes wander around camp, staying as still as he could on his bedroll while the first watch changed, and then through the next. He lay awake long into the night before sleep took him, listening to the snores and the creatures of the night. And before he finally drifted off to sleep, he caught himself watching Deya and Feya, thinking about how they didn’t look much older than his son.

And how much he didn’t want them to die.

The Road to Varmen’s Shoal

Day 214 – We march towards Varmen’s Shoal. The day is fair, and …

“Alright, stop yer’ bitchin’. On yer’ feet, Kordin. Ya’ be wantin’ ta’ come, so get up.”

Mikus’s words woke the troop with the sun barely risen and the morning light dim. Tommy got out of his blankets, rolling and tying them to his pack without really thinking about it. Everyone else who’d been on their march from Redtail did the same, while the newcomers from Resthaven blinked blearily at them while looking on. Tommy saw Dorn explaining to Deya and Feya how to gather their gear and pack it, and he figured he’d better do the same for Petal.

“Petal? We need to pack. Roll your blanket and tie it to your pack before Mikus notices.” Tommy nodded his head towards Mikus who was currently asking if his highness, Kordin Jaltol, would like to join them for the day. Keris had a grin on his face watching Mikus rant, then looked over towards Tommy’s group.

Petal moved faster.

The troop packed their things while Mikus and Keris assigned men from the ranks to help load the animals. The correts were loaded, heads twisting this way and that inspecting the packages tied to their backs. Then Alarat led the artock underneath its platform, and it was resecured in reverse of how it was set up. In under an hour the troop was back on the trail, waiting while Saress and her archers hid the signs of their passing.

“Okay everyone, today we’re doing it the dwarven way. We’ll march first before we break, so shields and helms everyone,” Donnor said, a few groans following his words.

“Tough. We need to get used to them and they interfere with your hearing. I told you we were going to train,” his da’ said as he put his helmet on his head. “Now, get the person beside you to get your rations out of your pack, we’re eating as we go.” Everyone did as they were ordered with a minimum of fuss, and in a few moments, with a “Mikus? Keris? Lead us out,” the troop was on its way.

Marching with the troop through the woods was almost comforting, Tommy realized. The sounds of the forest were muffled by the helm, but not so much that he felt closed in. Scattered conversation floated up and down the ranks which his da’ put an end to if it became too loud.

After about an hour or so they stopped to train, first rank joining the archers on guard while second rank did strength and shock training, thrusting the butts of their spears into the trunks of trees. When that was done, they did position training; going through the rest, relax, strike, and brace positions while Keris led the exercise. Then they did some sparring before forming back up with the rest of the troop and continuing on their way.

Tommy had joined second rank and was surprised at how easy the training was compared to how it had been before Resthaven. It was as if the combat there had instilled some new instinct in them, something that made them take the training that much more seriously. And everyone called out pointers to Larn, helping him figure things out much more quickly. It helped that Saress silently watched over them, Tommy sure her eyes were on him even when they were hidden by her hood.

After another hour, they broke again for first rank to train, Tommy and Ari being pulled aside by his da’. “Ari? Can Tommy train with you during these breaks? Practice his magic?”

“Sure, Ilari. But we can only practice what he already knows. Controlling his Tol and setting his pathways needs more than an hour here or there. Practice throughout the day will help, but it won’t eliminate the need for longer training sessions in the evenings.”

“Damn. Well, if that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is. I was hoping to spar with him in the evenings, and he still needs to keep the record for the troop. It looks like I’ll have to train with him during the day. Tommy, the next time we break, you’re with me.”

“Yes, Da’.”

“Good. See you then,” his da’ said, walking back to observe the training underway.

“Well, Tomilanthus, let’s not waste our time. Make your globe,” Ari directed as she sat, patting the ground beside her. His shaky, smoky globe popped into being as he sat down, and their training began.

There was a trick to it he was realizing, as forming a globe was both simple and hard. Simple in that you just brought your Tol to the surface of your skin and formed a bubble with it. Hard in that you had to push that bubble away from yourself while maintaining a rivulet of Tol that connected the globe to your inner self.

Once he got the globe into existence, he had to sustain the flow of Tol which wanted to stay inside his body. It was weird at how it seemed to almost be annoyed by him by wanting it to leave. And though it didn’t fight him, he caught it slyly returning if he didn’t keep his concentration on it.

The really hard part was when Ari added playing catch. What you did was toss your globe away from you with a little surge of your Tol. Tommy was honest enough with himself to admit he wasn’t very good at this, but he could at least get the globe to generally go where he wanted it to without banishing it anymore. Then Ari would extend her Tol and connect to it without touching the thread he was using to feed the globe. And once she did, he would release his thread, allowing his Tol to return to his body while she took over maintaining the globe.

But then it was his turn, and sometimes they would sit there with their knees together for hours, Ari doing something with her Tol to let him sense how she was using it to catch the globe. He could almost see the tiny thread of her Tol like a golden string, stretching out from her to the globe. When he could see it, he’d stretch out his Tol and carefully try and touch the globe. And if he did it right, there was an almost imperceptible click that sounded in his head when he took over maintenance of it.

When he did it wrong, however, his filament of Tol touched Ari’s and there was a flash of light that travelled back the thread into her. She said it hurt, and he really didn’t believe her at first. So, she did something to the globe so that he was the one who got pinched whenever it occurred. She hadn’t been kidding; it hurt. It was like when Mum used to pinch his ear between her fingers whenever he was in trouble when he was little. And of course, once their threads touched, the globe winked out marking his mistake for all to see.

He still wasn’t very good at playing catch with the globes, but after an hour he’d only banished the globe by accident a handful of times, which was better than he usually did. And as they got up and continued on their way, Tommy took pride in what he’d been able to accomplish.

At their next break, his da’ tossed him a staff he’d taken off the supplies on the artock. Setting aside their gear, they started sparring, his da’ keeping up a steady cadence of strikes. Having Tommy strike high and low, right then left, up and down, their staves made a staccato rhythm of clacks that sounded throughout the clearing.

Saress wandered over to watch them. Hesitantly at first, but with increasing confidence, she began giving pointers to him as their sparring continued, eyeing his da’ the entire time. She was adamant about him keeping his balance evenly spread, and whenever he forgot his da’ tripped him up. She blessed him with an “I told you so” every single time, much to his chagrin.

He couldn’t help himself after the latest one and gave her a sarcastic “Thanks, sis,” as he picked himself up off the ground. She flattened her ears before raising her hood, throwing an annoyed glance in his direction as she wandered away. But practice went on, and after an hour was up Tommy was covered in sweat.

Their next march was at a jog, his da’ getting everyone back into the various ways the troop travelled. They continued along their way, jogging at a slow pace for roughly a quarter of an hour before walking for the same amount of time, and then they did it all over again. The newcomers had trouble with their spacing while they ran, but nothing too bad happened. Though Feya did let the tip of her spear dip too low at one point and it got caught on the ground, stopping her in her tracks with a loud ‘oof’. After getting herself sorted out, to the chuckles of everyone around, they got back on their way.

As the day progressed, Tommy noticed his da’ cautioning the troop to talk less and less until only the minimum of conversation went on. He’d call out asking if the troop had seen this or that thing, keeping the men focused on what was around them, and complimenting those who did. They travelled this way all day, even taking their lunch while they were walking, until the sun started to go down.

The hills they were travelling through became gradually less frequent though the forest remained, and it took Saress some time before they found a place to camp that fit her needs. Her need seemed to be water, for they stopped where the barest hint of a spring came out of the ground near the base of a tree. As camp was set up and the watches were set, his da’ assigned some men to dig the spring out until a small pool was formed. And once everyone had filled their skins, the animals were led over to be watered.

“Alarat? Camm? Do we have any way to water the animals if we can’t find a source ourselves?” Donnor asked, watching the artock almost empty the pool every time it took a drink.

“No, Commander. But it’s not a worry until a couple days go by,” Camm said.

“Why’s that?”

“They’re all from the plains.”

“So?”

“Water be scarce in the plains. The correts don’t be drinking much as it is, and can go a few days without water before it be an issue. The artock can be going almost a week.”

“Huh. That’s helpful. Should we figure out a way, anyway?”

“Yes, Commander. I been talking to Mr. Tarr about it before we left, but he be saying they had no barrels to spare.”

“Okay. I’ll add that to the list of things we need. Maybe they’ll have some in Varmen’s Shoal.”

“Aye, Commander.”

Donnor eyed Camm before walking away, everyone knowing he’d rather be called Donnor. Ari watched him with a twinkle in her eye before calling Saress over, speaking to her quietly in elven. Saress seemed intrigued, glancing slyly Donnor’s way.

As Donnor approached the center of camp, he called for everyone’s attention. “While you all are eating, I’ll be talking to you about formations.

“So, before we got to Resthaven, we were trying to teach you formations, and that kind of went by the wayside. We’re going to get back into that now. A force armed with spears main strength is unit cohesion … that means staying together if you’ve never heard the term. If we can keep the spears together and facing the enemy as a single unit, it’s basically a wall of pointy things that will keep us safe.

“The problem is spears are typically deployed as static troops. Or, another way of thinking about it is that spears are the part of an army that everything else maneuvers around. Since we’re not an army, this doesn’t work for us. And, since there’s basically only thirty of us, we can’t present a big enough target for an enemy to be intimidated by.

“So, what we’re going to do is mix the spears with the archers. The spears are going to deploy in ranks in the middle, and a group of archers is going to be on either side. The archers are going to shoot and annoy the ondilaan, trying to get them to attack. And since they seem to charge almost every time, I’m hoping this will work and won’t cause any problems.

“Once they charge, it’ll be the spear’s role to turn and face them, making them run into your spears. First rank, you’re in front; this is your main job. Figure out where most of the enemy is coming from and line up facing them. Then, stick the butts of your spears in the ground and brace your shields. You’re going to get hit and you’re physically smaller, so you need to make sure you’re set.

“Second rank, you’re the strikers. Your job is to stab out and skewer anything attacking first rank. Remember, they are mainly concentrating on bracing themselves and holding the line. To them, stabbing out with their spears is secondary. And since you’re bigger than everyone except Dorn here, you can just stab out over their heads.”

Some chatter started as the men looked around, understanding their new assignments. It seemed easy enough to Tommy, and he saw a similar agreement in Ari’s nod.

“Laren? Immer? You two are going to be on the sides. You both impressed me by taking charge in Resthaven, so each of you will command a group of archers. Saress will let you know who is getting who.

“Saress? You are ultimately in command, and I don’t want to split them up, but we need the flexibility. So, you’re it.” Saress nodded.

“Okay, that’s it. We’ll start practicing tomorrow. For tonight, finish your meals and turn in. Leaders? Once you have your people settled for the night, meet me over by the platform.” Donnor saluted everyone and joined Tommy and Ari by their fire.

“Sit,” Ari said, patting the blanket beside her.

“Thanks. I feel better today. The troop is doing well.”

“They have you to thank for it.”

“Me? I just lead them. They’re out here because they want to be. That takes a courage all its own.”

“It does, but don’t sell yourself short, Commander,” Keris said as he walked up. “They can tell you’re in a better place. I’ve been hearing about it all day.”

“Aye, tha’ they have. And they be likin’ havin’ firm direction. Whatcha’ needin’?”

“Nothing much. Let’s wait for Saress before I get into it.”

Saress had been standing a few paces behind him in the shadows of a tree. As Mikus and Keris looked on, Ari glanced her way and Saress got a twinkle in her eye. Then smiling slyly, Saress leaned slowly forward until she was within inches of the back of his head.

“I dunno where she be. Ya’ know where she be, Keris?”

“Nope. Not a clue, Mikus. Ari?”

“She must be around here somewhere,” Ari said, struggling not to laugh.

“What are you laughing about?” Donnor asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Ari trailed off, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Saress took that moment to tweak his ear. A startled “Gods!” left his lips as Donnor jumped up and spun around, then promptly fell over on his butt. Laughter sounded from all around; the members of the troop having watched the fun as it developed.

Saress smiled, readjusted her hood, and casually moved to stand behind Ari, taking up her normal position there. Donnor sputtered for a minute, Mikus laughing uproariously while Donnor gawked. Then Donnor gathered his dignity, sat up, and cleared his throat.

“Okay, you got me,” was all he said. Mikus started hiccupping while tears started coming out of his eyes. “I think whatever I was going to say can wait until tomorrow,” Donnor finished.

“I think so too, Ilari.” Ari tittered, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

Tommy laughed as his da’ stuck his tongue out at her, half stunned Saress had stepped so far out of character to joke with his da’. But gods, it was funny. He hadn’t seen his da’ so startled in ages.

“Come, Tomilanthus. We need to practice your control.” Arisaylia said, patting the blanket beside her. “We’re going to enter the Tol’An tonight, but we’re going to be doing something different.”

“What’s that?” Tommy asked as his da’ gave Ari and Saress a flamboyant bow. Then he walked away muttering to himself, a wry grin on his face the entire time.

“We’re going to work on defending yourself. I’ve been thinking about the night we healed the men. You opened yourself up to me, and you gave me control. We did what we set out to do, and that’s alright, but it was easy … too easy. You were helping me, and I understand that, but I don’t want anyone to ever be able to assume control like I did. Not unless you want them to.”

“But you said it was just that once.” Tommy noticed Saress’s ears perked and focused their way.

“I did, but it scares me, Tomilanthus. I could have done anything to you, and you couldn’t have done a thing to defend yourself against me. Just thinking about how vulnerable you were is terrible, and I don’t wish that on anyone. I’m going to make sure no one can do it to you or me ever again.”

“So, what can we do?”

“I’m not sure,” Ari said, her voice taking on a strange tone. “But one thing I’m certain of is that becoming Mar’col’li has changed me. And I never want anyone to have this happen to them.”

“Changed you, Nisa Saliantrea?” Saress openly turned her head, focusing in on Ari’s words.

“Yes, changed me. Tomilanthus, the amount of shear power you gave me was breathtaking. The depth of your Tol is incredible, and the things I could have done with it are amazing. We healed the wounded in the inn, and that was all we set out to do. But when you gave up your control to me, it was as if our Tol combined and became more than just the sum of our two parts. It was as if I touched the sun; no wonder the ancients did things like that.

“But that level of power is intoxicating ... and entirely too easy to gain. It’s almost like it was calling out for me to use it, and it was hard to say no. I found myself finding excuses to do things beyond what we set out to do, and that scares me.

“And that doesn’t even begin to address what I could have done to you.” She shivered. “There was nothing you could have done to stop me. Nothing at all. And I will not expose myself to that horrible temptation ever again, not willingly at least.

“… If it wasn’t for our need …” She glanced at Saress, then shook her head. “… There was no other way. There was just no other way.

“You were a puppet, Tomilanthus, a thing for me to do with as I pleased, a fountain of power for me to use up. And I was tempted. Oh, was I tempted; swept away by the wonder of what we did. It is abhorrent, this thing we did, and easily abused. And it is wrong, and I was wrong for suggesting it.

“Tomilanthus, I refuse to casually participate in being Mar’col’li any longer. Therefore, we will train, and train, and train some more as your father said, so that neither I, nor anyone else, can do to you what you allowed me to. Unless, of course, you wish it.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, Nisa Saliantrea.”

“Fear not, J’al’osil Saress, my friend. I will not stray.” Ari said with a smile.

“Yes,” Saress replied, turning back to her duty.

Ari watched her guardian, knowing full well the depth of gratitude she owed her for setting aside her training. “So, Tomilanthus, we train. And tonight, we train against my fear. Come. We will enter the Tol’An. But when we do, I will try and take control. It is your job to stop me.

“And just so you know, no one trains like this; not a single person. So, I have no idea what we will encounter. But we will train until no one can do what I have done.

“And once no one can, then maybe, just maybe, I can relax.”

Signs and Portents

They awoke the next day, breaking camp and getting underway. There was a cool breeze this morning, chilling Tommy to the bone before he wrapped his cloak around him to block the wind. And there was one good thing about the helmet, he decided, as he listened to the wind, it kept his head warm.

He thought about his training in the Tol’An the night before while watching the men fill in the hole. It had been strange, that’s for sure. And as he packed his gear away, he stole a glance at Ari remembering what they had done.

Normally the Tol’An had a welcoming feel. The warm waves of Ari’s Tol wrapping him up in a safe, gentle blanket as she helped him stretch out and explore his inner self. The soothing comfort she provided gave him the confidence to push his boundaries while he travelled to-and-fro along his pathways, lighting up his inner labyrinth of power with a golden light. Then, when everything was illuminated, she held him, supporting him as he rested upon the radiant web he’d formed. Bathing in the dark smokiness of his inner self, he looked out into this inner universe that was periodically illuminated by flares of light.

They’d started out that way, just like they always did, progressing to where the webwork of light filled him. But with a quick, warning flare of her Tol, she changed what she was doing and almost started poking at him along his pathways. Her Tol took on a new feel: hot and threatening, where it had been warm and comforting before. And the soothing gentleness of her touch changed as well, becoming jagged and sharp while he tried to resist.

It was as if she was trying to smother his pathways, wrapping them up with her Tol. And the more she pressed and stifled him, the more uneasy he became. He resisted like she’d asked, but it was like trying to stop a prickly cloud. And the more he struggled, the thornier the cloud became. She didn’t exactly hurt him, but it was an ominous feeling, both threatening and strange.

His Tol didn’t like it either, rousing to an almost conscious awareness as Ari poked and prodded along. It rose up out of the darkness wherever it came from, a thundercloud of threatening menace. It surrounded her, encapsulating her greens and golds with a smokiness of its own, seeming to judge her as it woke. Ari froze, holding herself passive as his Tol did whatever it did before retreating into the shadows of his pathways once more, observant, yet on guard.

It was as if there was a part of him that was both him yet separate, but still a part of his Tol. He could tell it was protecting him somehow, but was holding itself back. And he realized he was almost talking to it, reminding it that this was Ari, that this was his mother he was practicing with.

Ari looked sharply at him with his words, but he was too caught up in the experience and didn’t notice. She quested and inspected while he spoke to it, drawing nearer to this ominous guardian with her green and gold light. But whatever it was winked out as she got close, disappearing completely as if it had never been.

The Tol’An ended immediately afterwards and she bombarded him with questions. She pressed him about what he had experienced, and wanted to know if anything like that had ever happened before; all the while doggedly chasing any description of what he had seen in minute detail.

He could tell she was shaken and disturbed by what had happened, and he was too, at least a little bit, but he was also comforted. Secure in the knowledge that a part of him took an active role in protecting him, when he couldn’t provide that protection himself.

But whatever had happened, they weren’t able to talk about it for long. He was exhausted, completely and utterly bereft of energy, and Ari eventually tucked him into his blankets after he fell asleep mid-sentence during her relentless questioning. The last thing he remembered was Ari and Saress speaking quietly in elven, their voices blurring with his dreams.

He felt rested this morning, though. And with the watering hole now filled in, and leaves scattered to hide their tracks, the troop set off for the day. They must have been barely into the western hills, as now that they were travelling southeast, the hills had all but disappeared. If it weren’t for the trees, Tommy bet they’d be in something like the rolling plains they’d marched through outside of Redtail. He liked the trees and all, but he still wished he could see. If it wasn’t for his da’, he’d have almost no idea which way they were going.

After eating a cold breakfast while they marched, his da’ ordered the troop into a run. The run went well since they didn’t have their shields on their arms this time, having been ordered to keep them strapped to their backs. The newcomers appreciated this as they had enough problems running with a spear as it was, and they didn’t need the extra weight of the shield throwing them off balance. And after an hour or so of this, they stopped and walked for a couple of hours until they came to a clearing large enough for the entire troop to fit.

“TROOP, HALT,” Donnor ordered. “Mikus? Keris? This looks like a good place to practice. Let’s set up here and see what we can do. Saress, your archers have the duty, so set your watches all around. We’re going to be making a lot of noise, and I don’t want any surprises. Ari, you’re with Alarat and Camm. Stay together and watch. Tommy, join second rank.”

Everyone followed his orders, Saress taking Petal with her to join the other archers. Mikus and Keris had the men put their gear aside and sit in a rough half-circle. And when Tommy moved to join second rank, something rustled in the tree overhead. He paused to ask Ari about it, but everyone quieted as his da’ started to speak, so he hurried to take his place.

“Okay, the first thing we need to teach are some new commands. We did a little of this on the way to Resthaven, but we’re going to need to teach a lot more. The first command is simply ‘whatever rank, on me’. It means run to your rank’s leader and form up in a line facing the same direction your leader is. You heard us screaming that at the ambush; and those of you who weren’t there, just trust me, it wasn’t fun. We’re going to practice this now.”

Donnor had Mikus and Keris move to different places around the clearing. Then with a loud “FIRST RANK, ON ME!” Mikus bellowed the new command. Everyone looked at each other for a second, then the people of first rank scrambled towards him, forming up facing the direction Mikus was. “Aye, no’ bad fer’ tha’ first time. REST!”

Then Keris commanded, “SECOND RANK, ON ME!” And the people in second rank, Tommy included, ran to where he was. There was a little jostling as the men tried to get into their accustomed places in line, and Keris quickly put an end to that. “Don’t worry about where you are in line. This is about getting into line as fast as possible, not who you’re standing next to. REST!”

“Excellent,” Donnor said. “Okay everyone, let’s sit back down where you started, and we’ll do it some more. Mikus? Keris? Let’s say five or ten times, then we’ll do it as a troop.”

Getting an ‘Aye, Donnor’ and a ‘Yes, Commander’, practice began for the day. Mikus and Keris would walk to various places around the clearing facing any old which way, then shout “… ON ME!” and then the men in their ranks would scramble to line up as fast as they could. His da’ looked on, quietly talking to Ari while the men practiced. Ari, meanwhile, was peering up into the tree trying to see what was up there moving around. Everything was going smoothly until, with a toothy grin, Mikus set himself up so his rank had to form up through Keris’s rank, and after a lot of laughter, his da’ returned to the ranks.

“All right everyone, if we’re laughing and joking around, it’s time to add something new. We’ve been practicing first as ranks to get the idea down so we can do it as a unit. You’re going to hear a new command this time. This is the command for the leaders, not you, but you’ll hear it. So, pay attention so you know what’s going on. Whatever you do, listen to Mikus and Keris and you’ll be fine.

“TROOP! TO ARMS!” Donnor cried, facing south in the center of the clearing. Mikus and Keris jumped to their feet, sprinting to him. “FIRST RANK, ON ME!”; “SECOND RANK, ON ME!” they both shouted, Keris standing behind Mikus when they got to Donnor’s side. The people of the ranks ran after them, jostling each other as they formed up, one rank behind the other.

“REST!” his da’ ordered after walking around in front of the formation. “RELAX! Well done. As you can see, it’s a little awkward getting into formation when there’s more than one rank. We’ll practice this some more before we get back to travelling. This afternoon we’ll add your equipment in, and you’ll get to see how annoying it is trying to form up with shields and spears getting in the way.”

His da’ walked a little bit away, facing east. “For now, TROOP! TO ARMS!”

“FIRST RANK, ON ME!”; “SECOND RANK, ON ME!” Mikus and Keris shouted as they sprinted to his side. And, as everyone raced after them, practice continued.

They kept training for another half an hour or so before stopping and continuing on their way. And Ari was left frowning, never figuring out what was up in the tree. They ate another cold lunch on the road, the trees starting to thin the further they travelled, and it was many hours before they stopped once more. This time, they stopped at the first sign of civilization they’d seen since leaving Resthaven.

They’d just passed through a grove of calder pines, a tree known for its almost cobalt blue needles, when they came upon a shack. It seemed like it was in good repair, until you noticed the broken-down door and the belongings scattered and strewn across the floor.

Donnor ordered the troop to halt, then entered the shack with Saress while everyone else waited outside. Tommy noticed a fenced in area behind the structure, dried blood staining one of the fence rails. The troop noticed the blood too, mutters and murmuring beginning in the ranks. Petal had a hard look in her eye.

“All right. Saress and her archers warned me about this a little bit before we arrived,” Donnor said after he returned. “It looks like one or two people lived here, and maybe raised some goats based on the goat-fur blankets inside. The shack has been ransacked, and anything that was in the pen out back has either been taken or killed. But, there’s no sign the ondilaan did this; nothing obvious anyway.

“This could be new, or this could be old. We don’t know. But for now, keep your arms at ready and talking to a minimum. We’re going to break here for a minute to salvage anything useful; there’s some dried meat and sausages in the shack. Camm? Alarat? Add it to the artocks load. Keris? You have the duty, get what’s useable. Mikus? Close guard; Saress has her archers further out.”

Getting confirmations, everyone went to work. Mikus split his men into pairs and had them stand around the shack, looking out after telling them to call out if they saw something. Meanwhile, Keris and his men went through the shack taking anything useable. Dried or preserved food they packed onto the artock, fresh stuff they passed around the ranks. Beyond a knife and a length of rope, there wasn’t much that wasn’t broken. So, in short order, the men with Keris finished up, and Donnor reformed the troop, getting them on their way.

Tommy wasn’t sure what he felt about taking other people’s things, but no one else was using it. Looking back over his shoulder, the shack disappeared out of sight, a sad and lonely monument out here in the wilderness. His last thought before losing sight of it was wondering who’d lived there.

At least there weren’t any bodies.

The troop was subdued as they continued on and his da’ must’ve picked up on it, walking the line and talking with people here and there. He kept up his practice of calling out if anyone had seen anything, and the mood gradually improved. And it kept on improving right up until they came upon the next sign of something wrong on the road.

It was midafternoon and the sun was high when a pair of archers ran back from ahead, stopping to talk to his da’ and Saress. His da’ brought the troop to a halt and called for Mikus and Keris to join them. Then Mikus and Keris returned to the troop, readying their weapons and walking the line. Saress sprinted up the trail, her archers following along behind.

“There’s a destroyed homestead ahead,” Donnor began, his voice stern and focused. “The ondilaan have been there, and there’s at least one person dead. The archers are watching it now. Ready your weapons. Shields on,” he ordered, waiting while everyone equipped their shields. When they were almost done, he said, “No talking. Keep your spears ready. The ondilaan could still be here.”

And with that bit of wonderful news, his da’ quietly ordered the troop to advance. Mikus and Keris were now side by side on the path, the ranks following along behind. They passed their orders back the line, person-to-person, to watch the sides of the trail as they advanced. The people of the ranks were tense as they looked out, those who’d only joined them in Resthaven having wide, fear-filled eyes.

Donnor trotted back. “Ari, you’re in charge back here. Stay behind the troop and defend yourselves. Pay special attention to our rear as we just don’t have the numbers to guard there. Do whatever you have to, and don’t hold back. Nos tairi yandun, Ilari.”

“Yandun. Return to your men, beloved. We will be fine.”

Donnor touched her cheek softly, then turned, trotting back up the line. Tommy took in Ari’s soft smile before returning to watching around. He’d gotten used to seeing her and his da’s small displays of affection, just like that one there, but it was still hard. He’d only known Ari was his real mother for a few weeks now, and it was hard seeing his da’ touch someone like he used to touch his Mum; Yella, the woman he’d thought of as his mum his entire life.

Where are you, Mum?

But thoughts of his mum left him as they walked along, all but silently to Tommy except for the plodding thuds of the artock’s feet. The troop was tense and anxious, but not out of fear Tommy realized. It was as if they had anticipated this moment, but at the same time didn’t want it to come. The forest around them was quiet, the normal sounds of nature strangely at odds with the knowledge that death and destruction might just be right around the corner.

Many minutes later the forest broke, and they entered what had once been a field of corn. It was trampled now, its stalks broken and crushed into the ground, the entire field suffused with the sour stench of the ondilaan. A house stood in the distance on the other side of the field, and his da’ ordered the troop to halt.

“TROOP! TO ARMS!” Donnor called, facing the house. As Mikus and Keris ran to his side, they called out, “FIRST RANK, ON ME!”; “SECOND RANK, ON ME!”

“Saress! Archers to the flanks!” Donnor ordered. Saress raised her head and let out a loud, ululating whistle. From the trees around them, Laren, Immer, and the remaining archers sprinted into position, distributing themselves evenly on either side of the troop. It took only a moment for the troop to form up facing the house, ready and waiting for action. And they were primed for it, studying the silence of the home in front of them.

It was a simple house, with a stone chimney poking out over the peak of its steep, thatched roof. A waist high fence surrounded the yard where a garden had been. And it was big for a typical house; three windows beside the door on the side that Tommy could see. It was pretty; picturesque, almost.

Except for the body hanging on the fence.

The woman’s corpse was bent over backwards, her head pointed towards the troop. And though Tommy couldn’t see her clearly enough to determine exactly what had been done to her, it was obvious that she had been disemboweled. Her head hung limply, her torso’s cavity open to the sky, and the fence around her was stained with gore. Crows and vultures surrounded her, as well as something on the ground, their cawing and croaking the only sounds the troop could hear.

“TROOP! Advance at a walk, WALK!” his da’ called out, breaking the silence.

Mikus started walking forward, a slow but steady pace. Tommy could hear him talking softly to his rank. “Walk slow, now. Be keepin’ pace wi’ me out tha’ corner of yer’ eye. An’ keep a sharp watch! If anyone be seein’ anythin’, sing out! We’ll all be wantin’ ta’ know. Be steady people, they might still be here.”

The troop advanced, the stink of the ondilaan getting stronger the closer they came to the house. Donnor moved alongside Mikus and Keris, letting Mikus set the pace of their advance. His da’ was focused intently on the house, rarely looking away as they approached.

Saress moved herself to the rear, taking up station between the ranks and Tommy’s group, while watching all around. She glanced his way, nodding as their eyes met before turning to study the house once more.

“I’m supposed to stay with you,” Petal said nervously, an arrow nocked in her bow. “Saress and the Commander were very firm.”

“Thank you, Petal,” Ari said. “If you and Tommy could keep watch behind us, that would help. And stay out of the way of the animals.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Petal replied. Everyone in Resthaven had seen the destruction the animals had wrought when they charged.

Donnor called the troop to a halt roughly a half a bow shot away from the house. The woman’s sad remains stared at them, a grim token of whatever had happened here. He paused for a moment, studying the silent scene before calling out.

“Hello!” He paused. “Hello, the house!” he called out again. Donnor waited for a few more moments, the tension building while waiting for a response that never came. “Mikus, take your rank, explore inside.”

“First rank, ya’ heard tha’ man. Kordin, yer’ wi’ me. Karn, take Feya. Turred, Deya. Explore tha’ house in pairs. Tha’ rest o’ ye, out back. Stay together. Let’s go,” Mikus ordered, then advanced as everyone paired up. Walking through the open gate, Mikus walked up the steps and through the front door, the rest of his rank following along behind. Tak, Nalin, Ladig, and Dorn split off from the main group, going around back and disappearing from sight. The vultures hissed at them as they moved.

“Second rank! Rest!” Keris ordered, the members of his rank snapping into position. “We’re the front now,” Keris continued. “Keep an eye out for anything strange, and if you see something, anything at all, call out. If you hear fighting, stay where you are. Don’t break ranks until me or the commander orders it. Understand?”

A scattered reply of ‘ayes’ and ‘yeses’ sounded as Donnor called out. “Saress, archers in a circle around the animals. Watch all around, this could be a trap.” Saress nodded. And after some more hand signals, the archers moved to surround Ari’s group. Each archer was paired up with a partner, looking out in all directions.

The entire formation stood in silence, waiting many long minutes while first rank could be heard rummaging through the house. Must be a big house, Tommy thought, eyeing the birds. He could hear more than one door open and random clattering as Mikus’s people moved around inside. Every now and then one of Mikus’s people called out, their lonely ‘hellos’ strangely somber.

Then there was a shocked shout from out back, the entire troop tensing in response. Tommy could hear Mikus’s voice growling in response to whatever was being said, and a muffled conversation ensued. It sounded like someone started crying.

Mikus eventually came out the front door, Kordin stopping to retch off to the side. Mikus’s face was grim as he approached, slamming the gate and scaring away the crows. He stopped before Tommy’s da’, and then spit. “All be dead,” he grimly pronounced. “There be a pile out back. It be lookin’ like tha’ ondilaan been eatin’ ‘em. There be enough bodies there ta’ be accountin’ fer’ every soul ta’ be carin’ fer’ a place like this. An’ tha’ bastards be shittin’ on tha’ bodies like feckin’ dogs.”

“Is there anything useable?”

“Oh, aye. But it be covered in blood or worse. An’ the animals an’ who knows what else been in tha’ food I seen.”

“Okay. Search for what you can. Can we burn the dead?”

“No’ without burnin’ down tha’ forest.”

“Then leave the dead. We leave in a quarter-hour.”

“Aye, Donnor.”

Mikus returned to the house, grabbing Kordin by the collar and almost dragging him back in through the door. “… don’ be carin’ wha’ ya’ want, damn ye. Ye’ll be seein’ worse before ya’ be goin’ home. Karn? Turred? Be checkin’ fer’ anythin’ ta’ take,” he could be heard saying before the walls made it too hard to hear.

More clattering could be heard throughout the house as first rank moved about. The sounds of the searching were so innocuous, the troop began to relax. And it helped that the vultures joined the crows, flying away to roost in the trees and giving them some peace. Tommy heard someone yell for a ladder, saying something about a loft, and this was followed by more clattering before a surprised shout and another yell.

“Hold! Damn ye!” Mikus shouted, his gravelly voice easily heard from outside. This was followed by a half-shouted conversation between him and someone else. Boots ran through the house as his rank responded to whatever was going on, followed by another shout from Mikus. “Dammit! Hold!” Then the shouting diminished, a hurried conversation taking place.

Karn came running out the house followed by Deya. “Commander! There are some people still alive. They be in the loft, hidin’. One be injured; I dunno abou’ tha’ rest. They’re no’ comin down.”

“Ari, this is you. Figure out what’s going on and follow Mikus’s lead. Any danger, get out of that house. Immediately!”

“Yes, Ilari. Tomilanthus? Come. I may need you,” Ari ordered, following Karn swiftly inside.

His da’ met Tommy’s eyes as he followed after her, some significant meaning in the look, but the sour reek of the ondilaan hit him as soon as he entered the house making Tommy turn away. The cloying odor permeated everything, combining with the smell of blood and excrement that was so strong Tommy could almost taste it, and it gave the house an evil feel. It looked like the ondilaan had camped out in the front room as Tommy walked through, piles of excrement littering the floor everywhere he looked.

Ari and he followed Karn past broken doors and dried splashes of blood into the kitchen. Its long table was overturned, dirt and debris scattered haphazardly about. A wall looked like it had been burnt, and the beams of the roof were bare to the room below. Propped against an overhead loft was a rustic ladder, and Mikus was standing there with both hands out, placating someone just out of sight.

“… calm down, damn ye. No one be harmin’ ya’ here. We be comin’ from Resthaven, an’ Redtail before tha’. We no’ be comin’ ta’ hurt ye.” A hard, threatening chitter was all Tommy heard in reply.

Ari’s sweet voice carried throughout the room, instantly lowering the tension. “Mikus? Donnor sent us. What’s going on? Karn said there were injured.”

“Ari? There’s bein’ a family o’ sprites up here. The sire’s wounded, but has a knife drippin’ wi’ poison, I’m thinkin’. There be others behind him, too, but he be guardin’ tha’ rest somethin’ fierce an’ he no be lettin’ me see. He’s no speakin’ anythin’ but his tongue, an’ I no be speakin’ his.”

“Tommy, go get one of the sprites from Saress. Mikus, I’m coming up. I only know a little sprite-speak, but I’ll try my best,” Ari said as she began making noises that sounded like a mixture between a bird and a squirrel.

“Da’, there’s a family of sprites in there. They’re not saying anything except in their language,” Tommy said after running outside. The sprites perked up at this, all of them looking his way at his report.

“Saress, send Dap,” Donnor ordered. Saress snapped her fingers, pointing at the house, and Dap joined Tommy as they returned to the kitchen.

“… easy, friend,” Ari could be heard, before making more chittering noises, followed by some whistling.

Dap snorted. “Lady, please stop,” Dap said, a wry grin crossing his face. “He doesn’t need to know that the seeds of boat are smell bad on green toast,” he said, glancing at the destruction all around them. Dap whistled something as he climbed the ladder, getting a whistle in return while Tommy followed along behind.

The figure holding the knife was an older sprite, and he noticeably relaxed when Dap appeared before him. He was old but not ancient, with a wrinkled, weather-beaten face. Standing about as high as Tommy’s chest, the sprite had long, pale-blond hair, large, luminous brown eyes, elongated ears, and the delicate features typical of his kind. He looked like a miniature elf; just with the bigger eyes and longer ears that all sprites seemed to have. As long as you ignored the wild and untamed feel this older sprite gave off, that is.

A long conversation ensued comprising of chitters, whistles, and clicks, that went back and forth between the two sprites almost too fast to follow. But the older sprite certainly understood, his knife lowering even further as the conversation went on. And the knife was slathered in a sickly-green goo, Tommy noticed, that reminded him of Sergeant Moran’s infection back in Resthaven.

Eventually the conversation in sprite-speak came to a halt, and Dap turned to Ari. “The old one only speaks our tongue and apologizes for scaring you. They’ve been up here for three days, hiding in the loft. The ondilaan left yesterday, and they’ve been too scared and weak to move. There are six of them up here; all are wounded, weak, and have been without food or water the entire time.”

“Will he let us bring them down?”

“Yes, Lady Saliantrea. He only asks that they be kept together. And that he gets to keep his knife.”

“That’s fine. No one is going to harm him. Tommy, go tell your father. And clear a place on the artock, we’ll put them up there.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Tommy said as he left, heading back outside. “Da’, there’s a group of sprites in the loft. The old one doesn’t speak our language, but they’ve been here for three days. They say the ondilaan left yesterday. Ari’s bringing them out and wants to put them up on the artock.”

“Fine. Camm? Alarat? We’re loading survivors on the artock. Make room.”

After an ‘Aye, Commander’, the two gnomes got the ladder out, clambering up onto the artock’s platform. They were just finishing up when Mikus’s rank carried out the first sprite.

She was a tiny thing, a child, who knows how young she was. She was whimpering softly while she was carried out to the artock, handed up, and laid down to rest. The rest of the troop looked on, unsuccessfully keeping watch as the sad scene played out. The child was followed by an older sprite matron, then four male sprites before the old sire was helped out, staggering on his own two feet while leaning on Mikus. Ari was at his side looking on with concern, following and keeping pace. He eventually made it to the artock and stopped, looking at the ladder in disgust before sighing and looking Mikus way.

“Yer’ no showin’ weakness if ya’ canna’ be doin’ it.”

The old sprite looked at him, then Ari, then Donnor who was behind them both, looking on. Dap whistled something, then the old sprite sighed, holding his hands up to Ari and looking completely embarrassed. She picked him up, passing him up to Camm before climbing up herself.

“Tommy, come up here, I’ll need you,” Ari said. “Donnor, I’ll start healing them while we travel. Their patriarch, Ahton, says there’s nothing left of value in the house. The ondilaan took everything and were heading towards Varmen’s Shoal when they left. I’d like Dap to stay to translate, but we can leave anytime you want. Traveling won’t interfere with anything we’re doing.”

“Fine. Dap? Petal? Get up there with them. Sing out if you see anything.”

His da’ turned, giving orders to the troop while Tommy settled onto a bag of grain. Alarat and Camm climbed down, passing up water skins before stowing the ladder. And Petal settled herself onto a roll of spare cloth that would give her an unobstructed view to their rear when they started to move.

“Dap, warn him I’m a mage,” Ari admonished. “I’ll need to heal him and I don’t want any problems. Tommy, keep one hand on me just like before.” And as Tommy reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder, Ari’s Tol wrapped his up in her own, calling it into assistance.

Then, with a “Everyone, we’re leaving!” his da’ began ordering the troop. “Saress? SCOUTS OUT! Mikus? Keris? Lead us out. TROOP, at a walk, MOVE!”

And as the farm dwindled slowly into the distance, Tommy watched the vultures and crows return to feast.

Healing the Sprites

Ari was healing Ahton while doing her best to carry on a conversation with him, Dap translating. And while Dap and the older sprite spoke, Dap was helping one of the other sprites drink from a waterskin. The chittering voices of the sprites only added to the sounds of nature around them.

“He says they come from beyond the western hills and only settled here about a month ago, Lady Saliantrea. Their ch’ten, ahh, tribe? Clan? Family? It is a difficult concept to translate. They say their ch’ten is from near the Spire.”

The platform they were on was gently shifting back and forth in time with the artock’s plodding steps. It was easy enough to stay sitting, reminding Tommy of being on a boat in the waves. But it must not have been for the sprites, Tommy having to reach out from time to time to steady them.

“The Spire? That’s months to the west!” Tommy looked at Dap in surprise as he swayed along with the artocks motion. He’d heard stories of the Spire back home as a kid; a solitary mountain rising up out of the surrounding hills far to the west. He’d been told it was used as a reference point for anyone travelling into the western hills, and it’d always grabbed his imagination.

“Not quite that far, Tomilanthus. A few weeks, though, easily. Definitely a long journey. And Dap, just Ari, please.”

“Yes, Lady. Their tribe came to join a family-of-the-sister-son they knew was living around here. They could not find her, and helped out at the farm while they searched.”

Ari’s hands were glowing softly with the greenish-gold light of her Tol. Tommy kept one hand on her shoulder while she healed, the connection allowing his Tol to share some of the burden. He could feel her draw, the pull on his Tol slowly tiring him while she worked. But where it had been a demanding maelstrom of need back in Resthaven, it was only a gentle flow now.

He followed along as she worked, curious to see what she was doing. She was feeding their combined energy into Ahton, somehow adding to his shrunken and diminished whole. There was no ‘wrongness’, no parts in shadow that he could see like the wounds he’d seen back in Resthaven, just an overall feeling of something lacking that intrigued him. He reached out with his Tol, trying to add to whatever Ari was doing and help out more.

“Stop that,” Ari said, distractedly. “If you keep doing that, you’ll hurt him. He’s dehydrated, lacking water, and his body is starved of food. Since he can’t eat or drink quickly enough, I’m gently feeding my Tol into his body to add to his overall wellbeing. If you add too much too quickly, or without the proper technique, his body will break from the inside; the tiny parts of his body popping like a balloon. Here, look closely and you’ll see what I mean.”

Ari pulsed a small part of her Tol within the old sprite’s belly, and Tommy focused in on that. She led him closer, drawing him in tight to that section until he was so close, he couldn’t see the sprite at all. His consciousness was surrounded by bubbles of green and brown, all touching and packed tightly together, like a forest of tiny spheres that filled the void in every direction as far as he could see.

The greens and golds of Ari’s Tol wove through Ahton like the sunlight filtering through the trees, calmly caressing everything in sight. And where her Tol touched Ahton’s wilderness, an almost ethereal light formed that was seeping into the greens and browns around him. Tommy watched as the mist fell, the forest of spheres absorbing everything she gave, becoming larger and more defined the longer he watched.

She wrapped Tommy’s consciousness in her Tol and drew him away until he could see Ahton once more. “That is what I do. If I am not careful, the stuff of him will fill too fast and break.”

“That was beautiful,” Tommy said.

“It is ... Everyone is. Just stay passive and assist my draw. You don’t have enough control to actively help with what I’m doing.” Ari squeezed his knee while she focused on her healing once more. “Dap, can he tell us about the family that lived in that house?”

Another conversation took place that sounded like it was between two squirrels, with a mountain jay trying to butt in from time to time. The old sprite was perking up, getting stronger the longer Ari worked. But he fell silent after making some point, Dap nodding and turning towards Arisaylia.

“He asks that you heal the child next, then his achee, Tonat, his wife.” Ari nodded, the rocking of the platform continuing. “They were originally eleven, Lady. The four other members of their ch’ten left days ago for Varmen’s Shoal to sell some crops and buy things for the household. The ondilaan attacked the day after they left.

“The family of the household was actually two, Lady Saliantrea; two full families, and a brother of the family who spoke some sprite. They took on the ch’ten to help work the fields for harvest in exchange for a place to stay. He says it was difficult since they don’t speak the common tongue, but they managed.

“Varmen’s Shoal is half a day’s travel from here from what he said, much quicker at the pace we are keeping. He asks if we’ve seen the other members of his ch’ten. I told him we haven’t since we came from the other direction, and he’s worried about what has happened to them.”

The older sprite shivered, and Tommy could tell it was from Ari finishing with one section of his body and moving on to the next. The section she’d completed was left with a muted glow of health to his inner sight, softly pulsing in time with Ahton’s heart. And it seemed like that part of Ahton was slowly trying to feed the areas around it, some of their healing diffusing away while he watched.

The older sprite whistled and then chittered while watching Ari’s glowing hands. Dap explained some point to Ahton that the older sprite seemed to disagree with, and then a debate ensued. The other sprites perked up with interest, looking back and forth between Dap, the older sprite, and the healing going on.

Eventually Dap turned to Ari. “Lady, he asks if you are … San-ten-toll? I’ve never heard that word. I’m sure I’m pronouncing it wrong, but he is very explicit I ask.”

“San’ten’tol? That’s elvish, and it’s a very old-fashioned title. It’s just S’tol now. But, no, tell him I am not one of the masters.”

Dap reported this, and another chittering debate commenced. The older sprite became very firm, marking a few barking syllables with his hand before a warbling whistle split the air coming from the sprite matron. A mournful whistle left the sprite sire’s lips, before he chittered again to Dap, much less excited than before.

“Dap? What just happened?” Ari asked, gesturing for the matron to hand her the child. Ari took the little girl, barely bigger than a toddler to Tommy’s eyes, and cradled her. Then Ari’s Tol quested out, another delicate light misting through the little sprite just like it had done for Ahton.

“… Tonat asked him to let you work, Lady Saliantrea.”

Tommy snorted. It sounded more like when Mum scolded Da’ to him.

Ari glanced at Tommy before addressing the older sprite. “Dap, would you translate for me? Ahton, I am not a master of the college, but I am from Sirikii. I am a healer; a mage from the Vale. Are you okay with this?”

“He says that he is, Lady.” Tonat whistled sharply. “His wife says he is, too.” Dap grinned.

Ari smirked, nodding to Tonat. “Thank you, Tonat. Now Tommy …” Ari stopped, turning towards the sound of jogging feet.

Donnor arrived below, looking up at them. “How are they?”

“They are fine, Ilari, just weak and dehydrated. Four of their family are in Varmen’s Shoal from what he says, and they left a few days ago. Ahton asked about them. We should be in the village by nightfall based on what he’s saying, so we’ll probably find them there.”

The sprites looked back and forth between Ari and Dap, and those who could propped themselves up to see who Ari was talking to. A deluge of sprite-speak began, Dap answering many questions, sometimes having to whistle sharply to interrupt the flow.

“The scouts Saress put out have reported we’re only about an hour or two from the village based on the landmarks we know. They haven’t laid eyes on it yet, but the path is widening out, and they’re reporting seeing fields through the trees. So, all the signs are there. And based on their tracks, we’re about even in numbers to the ondilaan. How’s their healing going?”

“Slowly. Ahton is finished, and I just started with the child, but this kind of healing is a slow process. They’ll still be weak for a day or so no matter what I do.”

“How long till you’re done?”

“Maybe three, four hours? They’ve been without food or water, and every one of them will react differently to the effects of that. So, probably after we get to Varmen’s Shoal. Sometime after dinner?”

“No problem. We’ll definitely be in Varmen’s Shoal before then. For now, stay up there. Between Dap and Petal, you should have all the protection you need.”

“I don’t need them, Ilari. You know this.”

“I know you don’t, but it makes me feel better.”

Ari rolled her eyes, handing the child back to Tonat. She met Tonat’s eyes, smirking, and said “Men” loud enough for his da’ to hear. Tommy felt her Tol questing out and into Tonat as Ari began healing her and the child at the same time.

“Hey! I put two of mine up there to protect you while you’re healing and you give me grief?” Donnor was wearing a smirk of his own.

“Protect me? A mage of the Vale?” Ari said loftily. “What could you possibly do for me?”

“Oh, it’s like that now, is it? I seem to remember plenty I could do for you back on the Awyrllyn. I seem to remember you liking it, too.”

Ari blushed prettily. “Humph. Go play with your soldiers, peasant,” she said, waving him off.

His da’ was grinning and about to respond when Saress jogged up. “Donnor, you are needed. The scouts can hear ondilaan calling in the distance.”

Everyone tensed. “Aye. Tairi yandun,” Donnor said to Ari before jogging back towards the front of the line.

“Yandun,” Ari breathed, the warm waves of her Tol increasing their pace while his da’ sped off. Ari’s draw on Tommy increased as well as she watched him go. “Dap, have you told them?”

Tommy had tuned the chittering out, only now realizing the conversation had never stopped. “Yes, Lady Saliantrea. They ask what we are going to do.”

“Tell them we are heading to Varmen’s Shoal. The ondilaan are apparently there ahead of us, and there may be a fight. We will protect them, and they should not worry.”

“They wish to fight, Lady.”

“They can barely stand.”

“They can shoot, Lady. All sprites can shoot, especially those who come from the far places. Our bows are big for them, but they can still shoot.”

Ari looked into Ahton’s eyes for a moment, her Tol still questing into his wife and the girl, healing as she went. Ahton met her eyes squarely, raising his hand and deliberately making a strange gesture with it, chittering away.

“He says he is yours, and to use him as you wish. You have ak’ta’tak, host-right, to ask, though he still continues to call you San’ten’tol. The gesture he made is a declaration of debt to the wild ones, Lady. He asks to fight in defense of you and yours in thanks for your aid. He also wishes to fight for the members of his ch’ten, who may not yet be dead.”

Ari bit her lip, then called out. “Alarat? Can you give the artock to Camm? I need Donnor.”

“Aye, Lady,” he said, handing off the lead and jogging up the line.

“Tommy, we need to speed this up. I might need to draw on you heavily, like back in Resthaven. If I do, just keep a hand on me,” she said. He could feel Ari’s Tol pulsing through the child and Tonat, it’s warm waves now hot, lapping quickly against the two sprites as if blown in by a storm. Alarat returned a few moments later, saying his da’ would be back as soon as he could.

It was many minutes later before Donnor returned, his face tense. “What?”

“The sprites want to fight and Dap says they can shoot. Can I arm them?”

“Yes. Can you get them all up? That will give me something new to work with.”

“I can try, but it will be slow. It will also require much; we’ll tire quickly.”

“Do it, Ilari. The scouts are reporting a lot of calls. You, Tommy, and the sprites should start hearing them in a bit. If we’re even in numbers like I think we are, I won’t need you in the fight.

“Donnor, I can do more.”

“I know you can, but the sprites will give me a third group of archers and I’ve never worked with a mage. I’ve only ever fought them. I don’t want you in combat anyway.”

Ari pursed her lips as he continued.

“Dap, stay up there and keep them up there with you. Divide the duty as you see fit, you’re in charge while Ari works.”

The conversation between the sprites increased, being suddenly cut off after a whistle from Tonat.

“Yes, Donnor,” Dap replied, looking at the other sprites quizzically. He chittered a question, getting a torrent of replies before Ahton ended it, making an abrupt gesture with one hand.

“Ari, I probably won’t be back unless something’s really wrong,” his da’ continued. “Stay up there, stay to the rear of the troop, and stay safe. I’m going to use the artock as a fallback position; somewhere to run to if things go wrong. Try not to tire yourself out too much, and save some magic for yourself. If things get bad, use it. Use it as you see fit, and don’t hold back.”

“I won’t, beloved.”

Donnor saluted fist to chest, before jogging back up the line.

“Dap? Petal? Find the extra bows and string them for Ahton’s ch’ten. I can’t heal the sprites completely, but I can at least get them on their feet. Dap, tell them I’m going to be healing them as quickly as I can, and it may feel strange. I’m going to need to concentrate, so don’t interrupt me, and move them closer so I can put my hand on two of them at a time. Are there any more water skins?”

“Here, Lady,” Alarat and Camm called from below, tossing up their skins. Petal caught them, handing them to Ari while Dap found the extra bows and started stringing them. The chittering between the sprites started back up, continuing as the platform rocked gently back and forth in time with the steps of the artock.

Tommy concentrated on staying in contact with Ari, feeling kind of useless just kneeling beside her and not doing anything. Sure, his Tol was helping her heal, but he wanted to do more. And he felt like he was letting people down; not pulling his own weight.

He shifted his weight periodically over the next hour while the healing continued. Ahton stood in the front with Dap, keeping watch after assuring himself he could draw the bow. He could, though barely, his hands and limbs shaking ever so slightly every time he did so. Ahton was still weak despite what Ari had done, but it was obvious he was not going to let his weakness stop him.

The child required a delicacy of touch that Ahton and Tonat had not, Ari almost misting her Tol in the direction of the child’s body from the outside. She used her Tol ever so gently, barely touching the little sprite, any excess immediately shunted off into Tonat. And like a whisper of solace Ari healed her, the child becoming more awake and alert, haltingly speaking to those around her.

It was then, just as the child began to speak, that the first whooOOP of the ondilaan could be heard. Tommy’s nerves were instantly on edge, looking towards the distant call that was blocked by the forest around them. His spear and shield were beside him, providing some comfort. But thinking about the battle ahead, he leaned over to pull them closer, worrying about the upcoming fight. Ari’s next words directly addressed his thoughts.

“You must remain next to me, Tomilanthus. We cannot heal and fight at the same time, and I need you here.” Another whooOOP rang out. “I am going to change my approach to speed things up, and I can’t do it without you.

“We will do a transference, shunting the water directly from the skins into their bodies. It is difficult, and it requires a huge amount of Tol. It really shouldn’t even be attempted on the back of an artock going into battle, but …” Another ondilaan’s call rang out. “There is that.” She glanced towards the front of the troop. “He needs his men.

“Dap? Pay attention. We are going to do something different. It will get the other sprites on their feet quickly, but once we begin, we cannot stop. There may be some strange lights, but that is to be expected. Make sure they understand.”

Another whooOOP sounded in the distance, then Tommy heard something else. It was a strange banging noise, followed by another loud whooOOP. He looked towards the front of the troop, Varmen’s Shoal still not within sight. Petal stood up at the rear of the platform, nocking an arrow and looking out over his head. Ahton tested his string again while adjusting the quiver at his side.

“Tommy and I must not be interrupted, Dap. We may seem like we’ve passed out, but we have not. We have to do it this way to heal them quickly; I won’t leave Donnor without my magic. Don’t touch us, and don’t move us unless the area isn’t safe. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady.”

“Once the first two we work on are done, the lights around my hands will go out. Move them and place the next two in front of me. I will not be able to respond. I will heal four, and once I have, I will come out of my trance and I will be tired and groggy. If there are any problems, call for Saress. Now, make sure they understand.”

There was another ‘Yes, Lady’ from Dap before he started chittering and whistling to Ahton and the other sprites. Tonat took a bow for herself and a handful of arrows, the bow almost as tall as she was, and placed the girl child in her lap with the bow held protectively in front of her.

“Tommy, let us begin. I’m sorry for the headache,” Ari said, sending a wry smile his way.

Tommy chuckled as her draw began. They’d healed so much and so many in Resthaven, headaches and healing seemed to go hand in hand. But as her draw increased, he realized his Tol was responding easier than it had before. Where an increased draw almost painfully tore his Tol away from him in Resthaven, this time it triggered a rush like his Tol was a stream undammed. And as it flowed from him, she gathered and used it.

All of it.

He followed along with what she did while not understanding the how of it in the least. As the first HEHEHE distantly sounded through the trees, she placed a hand on each of the sprites before her. Her Tol thrust into them, piercing the part that made them, them. Then it spread out into a smothering green and gold blanket, gradually illuminating their bodies from within. Once it had filled them entirely, she thrust out two new tendrils of light, each questing and finding one of the water skins.

Then something truly amazing happened.

Tommy had only recently discovered how difficult doing things with his Tol could be, and he was stunned by what she did next. The tips of each of those tendrils she sculpted into irregular shapes, carefully making sure the water within each of the skins was completely enclosed by her Tol. Many minutes passed while she worked, ensuring nothing but the water was included, working both skins at the same time. Then she somehow hardened her Tol, separating the water from the skin and trapping it inside her working.

And then the true draw began.

She called upon his Tol, every last bit of it, and he felt it surging through his pathways and filling him to the brim. Then it rushed from him in a torrent into Arisaylia and back out again, and then into the water of the skins. His Tol took on a scintillating golden light, penetrating the water and combining with it. And his Tol changed it, absorbed it, making the water one with his Tol, and his Tol one with it.

The mingling of his Tol and the water turned his Tol a striking, brilliant blue. Then the glistening cobalt pool travelled from where it lay, through Ari and back out again, and into the waiting sprites. And once it was there it spread its light, fusing itself into their bodies while slowly rejuvenating them, right before his eyes.

Just like back in Resthaven, Tommy had no idea of the amount of time passing them by, but remained vaguely aware of some of what went on around him. The platform continued to rock, but had stopped and had been stopped for some time. He heard his da’ calling orders, but had no idea of what was being said. And as the pools of shimmering water shrunk slowly into nothingness within their skins, he heard the chittering of the sprites increase. The two sprites he and Ari were working on absorbed the last of the azure light, and he heard Petal mumbling something in wonder while they did so.

Dap watched as the light from their working winked out, then chittered at the two sprites under the Lady’s hands to move out of the way so they could place their brethren in their place. The Lady’s hands had been blinding; two brilliant golden fires that spread their radiance between the sprites until they too had glowed. Her eyes had shown a dazzling green, with golden fireflies flashing here and there within them while she healed. And as the two sprites did as he asked, her hands seemed to once again fill with some kind of potential, some force he did not understand.

But what had made Petal gasp, saying ‘By the gods’ in wonder, was not the Lady’s working. That incredulous statement was reserved for Tommy, and the eerie happenings around him.

As Ari had worked on the sprites, Tommy kept one hand on her shoulder, kneeling at her side. His head was bowed, and there was a shimmering coming off of him as if the air was hot, that flowed from him to her through his hand. But as the blinding light of her hands built towards brilliance once more, Tommy looked up and opened his eyes.

His eyes were bottomless pits of an uncanny darkness, lit from within by flashes of golden light. Like lightning in a thunderstorm, the flashes were both brilliant and primal, piercing the gloom of his gaze. And as Ari’s hands brightened, his eyes darkened, counteracting her radiant glow. The tempest within them growing until an almost threatening thunder began, felt but not heard.

The weight of his gaze was both dark and dangerous. And as their working continued, that darkness suffused the platform around them making her hands a foil to his darkness, the calm to his storm. Then as she reached the climax of their working, a smoky mist formed to surround him that shaded itself to blue, travelling through the shimmering that surrounded his hand and into Arisaylia.

It was queer, eerie, and strange. The treeline around them was illuminated by the golds, greens, greys, and blues of their working. And all the while, lightning bolts of gold flickered hither and yon, flaring in time with the powerful magic the two undertook.

Dap had pledged himself to the Lady when she had saved them all at the bridge. Her working there had struck down the ondilaan, saving the troop from being overrun while protecting them all. But he had never been so close to one of her workings as he was now. The light of what they were doing pressed upon him, and he felt his tee’wa, that part of him that bonded all sprites to the natural world, respond. Gravitating towards the greens and golds of her light, and strangely to the darkness from Tommy, he and the other sprites found it difficult to look away. Her scarlet hair rose of its own accord, drifting aimlessly on an invisible wind.

Petal stood in the back with her jaw on the ground, Tommy’s smoky mist lapping against her feet. She remembered hiding in her home the day of the attack, the day Ari had killed the ondilaan. She’d peeked from her window while streamers of light, like living arrows, streaked in between the buildings, striking down every ondilaan in sight. Petal had thought she’d seen magic that day, but this, this, was just too much for words. She was stunned, and if not for what she heard next, she would have never taken her eyes off of what she was seeing.

“TROOP! TO ARMS!” Donnor commanded.

“FIRST RANK, ON ME!”; “SECOND RANK, ON ME!” Mikus and Keris called in return.

The ranks were running into position, and as Petal tore her eyes from Tommy and Ari’s working, she looked out over the battlefield as it came to be. The troop had emerged from the treeline, and Varmen’s Shoal was there in the distance. It was easily as big as Resthaven, the ‘sea stretching out beyond it towards the horizon, as far as her eyes could see.

But her gaze was drawn to the edge of the village, two or three fields from where they were now. More ondilaan than she’d ever seen at one time were at the edge of the village, cackling and calling as they cavorted about. With their HEHEHEs and whooOOPs haunting the air, they hurled terror at the defenders. And they waved their weapons in the air as well, shaking them at the barricades. The thumping the troop had heard was coming from stones as big as Petal’s head, being thrown by a particularly large ondilaan before they shattered against the village’s defenses.

The villagers standing behind the barricades had only farm tools to defend themselves, and they were focused on the ondilaan with fear-filled eyes. But a few pointed as some of the ondilaan turned towards Donnor’s commands, nudging the others around them as Donnor called out once more.

“TROOP, AT A WALK! WALK!” Donnor cried.

Mikus led the troop in a steady pace across the fields, and Petal started noticing the damage as they advanced. Burnt and broken fences and sheds littered the area outside the village. Poor, desecrated villagers the ondilaan had been eating were carelessly strewn across the fields. She tightened her grip on her bow as Alarat and Camm stopped the animals, the two gnomes standing stoically before them, against all that she could see.

They took my Canlen. They won’t take another, she vowed, her chest tightening as she looked upon the distant warriors. Her thoughts going to the man she thought she would marry while waiting for the battle to unfold.

Laren and Immer took their archers, five each, to each side of the troop with Dap remaining on the artock to translate. And Dap was chittering away at the sprites, making one emphatic point after another while gesturing all around.

“ARE YOU COWARDS ATTACKING ANOTHER VILLAGE?” Donnor yelled at the ondilaan. “DO YOU WANT A REAL FIGHT?” he shouted. “FIGHT US!” He banged his spear on his shield. “FIGHT ME!” He bellowed across the fields, the troop continuing its relentless advance.

Mikus and Keris copied his actions, banging their spears on their shields, urging the troop to do the same. Soon the entire troop joined in, striking their shields with their spears. The ranks producing a cacophony of noise as the troop advanced.

“ARE WE GOING TO LET ANOTHER VILLAGE FALL?” Donnor cried.

“No!” the troop screamed.

“ARE WE GOING TO LET MORE PEOPLE DIE?”

“NO!”

“WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?”

“We gonna’ fight!” Mikus shouted.

“WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO?”

“WE GONNA’ FIGHT!”

“WHAT?”

“WE FIGHT!” Mikus started banging on his shield, three beats in quick succession.

“WHAT?”

“WE FIGHT!”

The troop copied what Mikus was doing, banging away on their shields, the noise echoing across the fields. The ondilaan snarled and growled, turning away from the village. And Petal studied them as the troop advanced, the ondilaan unable to ignore the troop’s challenge.

“WE FIGHT!”

The ondilaan’s tawny fur was dotted with spots, marking them from head to toe as far as Petal could see. Long, thick necks, bulging with muscle, strained as they snarled and growled. Their cackling calls, HEHEHE HEHEHE, repeating over and over again as they jogged towards the troop. The toes of their unnaturally long feet making it seem like they had two knees.

“WE FIGHT!”

Short manes of greasy black hair streamed in the wind as the ondilaan began to run. Closing the distance, they began to sprint, a cacophony of cackling calls preceding them as they came. Their features sharpening as they closed, their slavering jaws hung wide while streams of drool flew from their lips.

“WE FIGHT!”

“TROOP! HALT!” Donnor cried as the enemy closed. The pounding of the ondilaan’s running feet turning into a thundering rhythm as the snarls and calls beat against Petal’s chest.

“READY!” Donnor ordered, the troop snapping into position. “ARCHERS!” he cried as Laren and Immer started giving their own commands.

“DRAW! … LOOSE!” the two ordered as every archer started shooting into the throng. The arrows flashed out, striking with a staggered T-T-T-T-THWACK as they penetrated into the charge. Dropping a few, the falling ondilaan tripped up those behind them as Laren and Immer called out again.

“DRAW!” and “LOOSE!” came from the left and right as they directed their fire, dropping warrior after warrior as the ondilaan closed.

“READY!” Donnor called out once more, the charge only half a bowshot away. “READY!” he cried, Mikus banging his shield against his chest.

“C’mon, Damn ye!” Mikus shouted, then switched to dwarvish, screaming at them in his tongue.

Petal started panting, her heart pounding in her ears as the light from the Lady’s working winked out, letting her see once more without the glare.

“BRACE!” Donnor screamed, the ondilaan only a few strides away. The members of first rank settled their weight on their back legs, bracing their spears in both hands. Their shields interlocking in front of them, they became a wall of shields with spears jutting out in between. Nalin was screaming his defiance into the throng as the last steps fell.

The two lines struck.

A tremendous cacophony fell upon the troop, the ondilaan’s savage onslaught trying to crush first rank before them. First rank took the blow, bowing against the weight while valiantly struggling to resist the charge. But second rank was there, stiffening their resolve. And with a defiant cry Keris’s orders sounded out across the field.

“SECOND RANK, STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!” he ordered in a litany of commands. And they thrust without thinking, matching their tempo to his words. The resulting slaughter, skewering the ondilaan before them.

But the ondilaan weren’t unthinking animals to drive themselves towards death indiscriminately. A large warrior, a female from what Petal could see, let out a loud WHOOOOP! of command, and part of the throng split off sprinting around both sides of the troop and entering into its flanks.

The archers retreated, following Laren and Immer’s frantic commands. Hastily stopping their fire, they dashed behind the ranks to avoid being overrun. And as they ran, they headed Petal’s way.

The flanking ondilaan chased the fleeing archers seeing only Alarat and Camm in the distance. The two lonely defenders were all that was standing before a veritable feast of livestock and supplies, and the ondilaan grinned as they came. A desperate, terrible race for survival had begun.

Dap called out, “Petal! Shoot them when they get into range!” Then he chittered and barked like a tiny dog, the sprites around him drawing arrows and nocking them to their bows. Ahton and the matron stood over the girl child, their faces grim and set.

Some of the ondilaan broke off, turning back towards the troop as the rest moved on. They were trying to attack the troop from behind while the rest chased the archers. But instead of defenseless members of the troop, they found two elite warriors poised to intercept.

Saress had begun shooting as soon as the ondilaan were within range, every arrow finding an eye or throat, and killing with every shot. Her hands were a blur as she worked her bow, an incredible vision of deadly skill. But nothing would prevent the ondilaan from reaching her; their numbers were too many, and they were coming too fast. So, she threw down her bow, drawing her daggers to defend herself, but first they met Donnor.

And there they met death.

Donnor threw himself with abandon into the ondilaan, leaping directly into the face of their charge. He was a whirlwind of butchery as he danced and spun, his spear blurring around him as he blocked and struck. Stabbing a neck here, jumping to thrust into a chest there, both ends of his spear flashed out in a stunning vision of martial prowess almost too fast to see.

Another whooOOP! came from the female’s throat as the ondilaan continued their charge. They entered Petal’s range and, just as she’d done back home, she drew and released, sending an arrow out to find its target. She began the rhythm of the bow; nock, draw, exhale, release, as arrow after arrow flew out into the charging ondilaan. And she found her target with every shot, aiming for heads and hearts, killing two before the sprites joined in. The sprites beside her, deadly in their accuracy, chittering away as they too fired while the retreating archers reached the animals and turned, joining the fight as well.

“Garn dak, turek tal! Nagan dee, turek tal! Mo’jon on, turek tal!” Mikus and the dwarves chanted from somewhere in the screaming melee. Their axes flashing as they swung, protecting themselves and those around them from the snarling horde.

But Petal couldn’t see, nor did she care, her vision narrowing and focusing only on the warriors charging before her. They’d killed easily a dozen or so, the artock lowing and stomping as the ondilaan closed, rocking the platform. The correts prancing, shifting from foot to foot as they too watched the ondilaan charge.

Alarat and Camm shouted for everyone to get out of the way if the animals charged. Bracing their spears, they prepared to do whatever they could, the two gnomes the only spears between archers and the ondilaan. All the while there was easily a score of tribesmen remaining in their charge.

It was then that Ari struck.

With a clarion call, she cried out “De’lenden Tae!” and a golden dart of light flashed out, striking an ondilaan in the chest. More flashes of light flew from behind Petal, streaking rapidly by like little shooting stars, each one striking and killing every ondilaan they touched. But Petal paid them no heed, only noting new targets as they appeared while she continued to work her bow.

The massed archers surrounding the animals concentrated their fire, their arrows flying into the charging throng. They flew towards the ondilaan with Arisaylia’s golden darts, decimating the enemy before them. And as the last ondilaan was blown completely through by whatever Ari had done, the archers saw the battle continuing around the troop. The troop almost completely surrounded, the fight totally out of range.

“KERIS! WATCH THE SIDES!” Donnor screamed, standing back-to-back with Saress.

Ari cried out, “Save them! Save the troop! Closer! Move us closer!”

Laren and Immer took charge, one of them yelling, “Back to the flanks!” as they tore off, running back the way they came. The archers ran and leapt through the corpses, a few attempting the running shots Saress had tried to teach them so long ago. And as the ondilaani warriors foolish enough to stand still were picked off in ones and twos, the archers closed in.

But the arrows struck few. Whistling as they came, the arrows alerted the ondilaan still fighting at the backs of the troop. And their threat was real, so the ondilaan reluctantly rejoined their brethren, moving to fight amongst the flanks. Donnor and Saress cleared those remaining in the rear as the archers raced for their side.

Saress picked up her bow, nocking an arrow as Donnor charged back around the side screaming “WATCH THE LEFT!” Then he ducked a wild strike as he turned to charge the largest enemy he could see.

Keris’s commands of “STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE!” continued in an endless litany as the ranks struck out, skewering the ondilaan before them. And as Petal and the archers were just getting into position, a new voice entered the fray.

“FOR THE SHOAL!” a great voice cried out, then a roar went up from the other side of the battlefield.

And the citizens of Varmen’s Shoal charged into the backs of the ondilaan, killing the enemy before them.

Varmen’s Shoal

“Halbaad Garr.”

“Donnor of Lakeside.”

The two men clasped forearms while still on the battlefield, only moments since the last ondilaan fell. The grizzled, bearded older man was bald with worn features, telling the tale of a hard life. But though he was past his prime, his keen eyes took in Donnor with an intelligence that said that this man was no one’s fool.

“I don’t be asking where you came from, but we’re glad of it.”

“Resthaven,” Donnor said, wiping the sweat from his brow and unknowingly smearing gore across his face.

Donnor started to notice the cries and whimpers of the wounded as he paused to look about. Nalin was over there on the far end of the troop, stabbing a still-living ondilaan. Deya was throwing up.

“Yer’ a far way from Resthaven, and last I heard Resthaven didn’t have an army ...”

The remaining men from Varmen’s Shoal were slowly clustering together, looking warily at the troop. They were armed with a variety of weapons, mostly farming tools from what Donnor could see.

“That’s a tale in and of itself. Look …”

“Commander,” Keris said, trotting up. “We have a lot of wounded; first rank was hit hard. I don’t think Jaltol’s going to make it, and Mikus is down. The archers are moving back with the Lady.”

“Gods. Keris, take the walking wounded and get them and anyone not mobile back to Ari. Tell her I need people stable: lives first, limbs second, healing third. Don’t worry about Mikus; dwarves are hard to kill. Set a perimeter around the artock and set up there. You’re in command. Defense only. Retreat to Varmen’s Shoal if you need to. Where’s Saress?”

“Back with the Lady.”

“Stay out of her way. Pass an order for me. Listen! Say: don’ton’wii Saliantrea’. Repeat that.”

“Don-tonn-wee sal-ee-an-tree-ah?”

“Close enough. Tell her I said that. Go! And stay out of her way. She’ll kill anyone she thinks will threaten Arisaylia.”

“Yes, Commander!” Keris saluted fist to chest before trotting off. He began yelling for Martok to help him, the limping man ordering those around him to start gathering the wounded.

“Nalin!”

“Aye, Commander?” the halfling answered distractedly, still stabbing the ondilaan’s corpse.

“Knock that off, damn it. It’s dead. Get anyone uninjured and form a line here. We need to sweep the field for wounded, then get ready in case there’s another attack.”

Nalin twisted his spear in the corpse of the warrior beneath him with a crazed look in his eye. “Aye, Commander. Right now?” he asked with strange casualness, looking around at the other corpses.

“Nalin!” The halfling continued looking around. “NALIN!”

“Aye, Commander!” Nalin jumped, coming almost to attention.

“Now!”

“Huh?”

“Dammit! Get the able-bodied! Form a rank!”

“Yes, Commander!” Nalin’s eyes focused, clear of whatever had been there before. He saluted and started shouting for the others to join him.

“That damn halfling’s going to end up a berserker …” Donnor muttered, watching to make sure Nalin kept doing what needed to be done.

“Commander, huh? Commander Donnor, eh?” Halbaad asked, voice full of speculation.

“Yes, sorry, Commander Donnor of Lakeside. I’m in command of this troop of irregulars. We’ve been tasked to check on the villages west and south of Redtail.”

“And was that Corin’s boy taking orders from you?”

“Who?”

“Sergeant Corin. Wasn’t that his boy there?”

“I have no idea who Sergeant Corin is. We left Sergeants Moran, Oldsby, and Tardook back in Resthaven with Arnet before we left. If there’s a Sergeant Corin there, I haven’t met him.

“Never mind. What’s next, Commander?”

“Just call me Donnor. We need to sweep the field for wounded, then we’ll need someplace to set up.” Donnor looked away to where Nalin was lining up the last of the able-bodied members of the troop. The rest were staggering and limping back towards the artock. Gart had Larn over his shoulder, limping as he carried him back towards the animals. Tak was whimpering while Karn drug him backwards towards Ari, letting out a shrill cry and gripping his abdomen when he bounced over the corpse of an ondilaan.

Donnor paused and took in the cries of the aftermath, Halbaad standing silently beside him. I thought I’d left all this behind, crossed his mind. Then Donnor shook himself, refusing his memories of other bloody battlefields.

“Any chance you can help out?”

“Aye, we might be doin’ that,” Halbaad answered.

“Nalin? You almost ready?”

“Aye, Commander!”

“Good. Halbaad, get those willing to line up with Nalin. Who’s the headman here? I need to talk to him once we’re done.”

“The headman? Why you be needin’ him?”

A low warbling whooOOO sounded across the field from somewhere near the boundary of the village. Donnor spotted one of the ondilaani warriors on its back, blood leaking around multiple arrows in its gut. It sucked in another breath before letting out another shaky whooOOO, its spittle joining the last with a rattling sound.

“Damn it. Nalin! You and the men with you are now first rank. FIRST RANK! REST! Form on that ondilaan! Advance at a walk, WALK!”

“Halbaad, I have to go. The situation here is still fluid. Get your people back in the village, you’re not trained for this. The ondilaan use one force as a feint, then attack from another direction. They did that back in Resthaven. Watch the other side of the Shoal. Tell the headman I’ll clear the field, then meet him there. Take any wounded with you that can walk. Any who can’t, we’ll get before we come in. Nalin! Move!”

Halbaad eyed Donnor as the commander trotted off, joining Nalin and the line of men. Donnor was ordering the men to spread out and kill any of the wounded ondilaan, which they did with merciless precision. The eyes of these new men were hard as they carried out their orders without complaint.

“Hey, Hal, who’s that?” Torin, Halbaad’s second, asked as he ambled up with a mace propped over his shoulder.

“A Commander. Donnor of Lakeside.”

“Lakeside? There weren’t no commanders from anywhere around here when we retired. Who’s he really?”

“Dunno.”

“You think he’s actually who he says he is?”

“He sure acts like it …” Halbaad replied, spitting as the rest of the villagers gathered around. They were watching the makeshift first rank continue its slow advance. That one lone ondilaan tried to call out again, no sound coming as it coughed and hacked blood out of its maw.

“Torin, get the men back inside the village. The commander says the ondilaan used one attack as a feint in Resthaven.”

“The commander, huh? You believin’ him?”

Donnor reached the ondilaan that had cried out and stopped. Halbaad watched him study the warrior, staring down at it piteously with his jaw hard. Then he stabbed it neatly through the heart, ending its life instantly without any further suffering. He hung his head then took a deep breath before continuing his advance, directing first rank further into the field.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Get the rest of the old squad on the southern side and looking out. Spread the word, I think these people are who they say they are.”

“Why’re you thinking that? They could be more o’ those fecking thieves from a few weeks ago.”

“Know any thieves with a mage?” Halbaad asked, hooking his thumb towards the people Donnor had left behind. The archers were spreading out in pairs encircling an artock and a pair of correts, and they were watching everything around them warily, including the people with Halbaad. The rest of these new men were leading, helping, or carrying the wounded to a woman in the distance who had two glowing hands.

Torin joined Halbaad watching the mage work. “Ain’t seen one of them since the Hold. You think that’s that Durn lass? The new one the lord got?”

Halbaad spat. “Not unless she’s lost a lot of weight.”

“Looks awful good from here.”

“You bloody ass, she lit your fecking trousers on fire. Are you stupid enough to try and flirt with a mage again?”

“Hmmm. Good point. She was still a looker though, eh?”

“Oh, shut up. Get your arse in there, and take the rest of them with you. See if there’s any food and get them fed. And get Jan to get her boat ready. I don’t care how drunk she is, we’re gonna need to send word to Redtail.”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Damnit, Torin. I haven’t been a sergeant for almost twenty years.”

“Ya’ act like it, ya’ get called it.”

“Okay ‘Corporal Torin’, you ass. Get out of here. I’ll come in with the rest.”

Corporal Torin, Redtail Guard, retired, threw an intentionally sloppy salute to his old sergeant with a wide grin before trotting away. “Yes, Sergeant, Commander, Your Highness, Sir.”

“Idiot.” Halbaad grinned. The grin falling away as he started helping his wounded back to the Shoal.

***

The sun had almost set by the time Donnor returned with the rest of his ad-hoc rank. “Nalin, get the rest of first rank into pairs, then spread them out among the archers.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Saress, how are they?” Donnor asked, switching to elven.

“They are deep into their working, Strike Leader. None are dead. She is almost spent.”

“Are any about to die?”

“No.”

“Can you wake them? We need to get out of the field.”

“Yes, Strike Leader, but it will cause her pain; backlash. Are you familiar?”

“No. Will it kill them? Injure them permanently?”

“No.”

“Then do it. I need them mobile and I need it now.”

“Keris?”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Before the sun is completely down, we need to get out of this field. Take two, get in the Shoal, and get us a place to set up for the night. The man in charge of their forces is a human named Halbaad. He should have told their headman by now we’re coming in. Find us someplace to go. If we have to set up in someone’s backyard we will, but a barn would be great.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“Go.” Donnor looked over towards his ilari and their son, both now lying on their sides completely unconscious. “Saress, get them up on that platform. We’re moving when you’re done.”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

“TROOP! Stay where you are but listen up! We are moving into Varmen’s Shoal in a moment. Stay spaced out as we move; we’re not forming into ranks. Laren? Immer? Get with Nalin. You three are now in charge. Get them ready to move.”

The sprite family was helping get Ari and Tommy up on the platform, obviously better after whatever they’d done for them. Donnor watched, nervous, expecting another attack as they were slowly raised up onto the platform, three sprites working together to lift them all the way up. His nerves were frayed, telling him something was watching him, them, as the wounded who couldn’t move on their own were hoisted up onto the platform as well. He’d felt eyes on him since the battle had ended, and he’d been searching for its source to no avail.

“I can be walkin’, damn ye’! I’ll no’ be ridin’ inta’ tha’ damn village like a lord!”

“Mikey, shut up and get on the artock! You can’t keep up.”

Mikus looked betrayed, but muttering under his breath he allowed himself to be assisted onto the artock with the other wounded. It took much longer than Donnor wanted it to, but eventually the last of the wounded were loaded and ready to go.

“Laren? Immer? Nalin? We’re ready. TROOP! Advance to the village! The walking wounded set the pace! WALK!”

Donnor kept station beside the artock as the troop set off. The twilight was deep and dark, his vision diminishing as the world around him faded into the grays of night. The slow pace, along with the eerie feeling of being watched, drove Donnor away from the artock, and he took on Saress’s normal role, trotting around the troop despite being tired beyond belief.

Saress stood guard over top of them all up on the artock, while he kept the groups of archers and spears evenly spaced. Every now and then someone stumbled, tripping on a corpse in the dark, but they made steady if slow progress to the barricades protecting the village.

Someone came out with a torch. “Commander,” Keris called as they got close. “We’re setting up by the ‘sea. There’s a place where they drag the boats out to work on them. We’re heading there.”

“Take the forward groups and lead on. I’ll follow behind with the rest.” Keris acknowledged the order, leading them into the village while the animals followed along behind. They passed through the barricades which were just two wagons rolled into place between the houses. A group of alert villagers nodded as they went by, shielding their eyes from Keris’s torch before returning to their watch. And as Donnor entered the village with the last of the troop, the men on the barricades pushed the wagons back into place, barring the way behind them.

Donnor relaxed, the feeling of being watched suddenly cut off. He stretched up onto his toes, looking out over the wagons and into the battlefield beyond. Nothing was there. I wonder what that was … he asked himself as he turned away, too tired to worry about it any further.

Walking through Varmen’s Shoal was surreal in how similar it was to Lakeside. The smell of the Serensea permeated everything and, just like home, underneath it all was the odor of fish. As he walked past a house with a net hung from its eaves to dry, Donnor heard a woman speaking to her family within. And if he didn’t think about it too much, he could almost imagine it being Matron Sweetflour calling out to her husband. He half expected to see Yella coming around the corner any moment.

Gods. I haven’t thought about her in days. Where are you, Yella?

Keris led them to an open area along the shores of the Serensea. There were three boats similar to his own that were beached, their bows on the bank, sails neatly stowed. Across from where they entered was Hartok in the process of lighting a fire, and some villagers were there directing the men. Alarat and Camm were already there leading the animals to an area roped off for them on the side.

“We’ve got this area for the night, Commander,” Keris said as he walked up. “They’ve got some supplies, but not much. The headman’s in his house over on the south side, and said to come over when you’re ready. He said if it’s not tonight, that’s okay.”

“No, we’ll stop in tonight once we get everyone settled. It’s his village, and we’re guests here. How are we for defenses?”

“There aren’t any. They built barricades like we did in Resthaven. More solid than we had, and they’ve been there for a while, but that’s all there is. The villagers are manning them in shifts, and the headman said they’ll be watching all night. We’ve lifted everyone’s spirits by winning that battle; apparently the entire village watched.”

“I didn’t want that damned battle, and I specifically didn’t want the kind of battle we had. This is what happens in battles like that: lots of wounded.” Donnor waved his hand towards where the wounded were sitting or lying down. “The last thing we need is more wounded.”

“Donnor, we won.”

Donnor looked pointedly at him and then the wounded, then back to the platform being set up where Tommy and Ari were. He turned back to Keris. “At what cost?” he asked before turning away. “Never mind, come with me.”

Donnor led the way over to the platform, oblivious to the various salutes, calls, and acknowledgements the men gave him as he passed by. Moving aside as one of the wounded was lowered and carried over to the now burning fire, he called up.

“Saress?” Saress appeared, looking down over the side of the platform. “Are they safe up there? Can you come down?”

Saress looked over her shoulder, looking intently at the sprites around her and then back to Petal before returning her gaze. She answered in elven. “Yes, Strike Leader. Nisa Saliantrea and Tomilanthus are well guarded.”

“Then get down here, and get Mikus down here as well. I need people in charge, and we appear to be safe for the moment.”

“It be about damn time!” Mikus complained out of sight from somewhere on the platform.

“Stop bitching. If you learned how to duck you wouldn’t be up there in the first place.”

“Learn how ta’ duck! Damn ye, ya’ idiot human. I’ll be tellin’ ya’ who’ll be needin’ ta’ duck! Get me down there! Stupid idiot human puts tha’ blasted wee folk in tha’ front line ta’ take tha’ blasted charge and then be tellin’ me I be needin’ ta’ duck! I’ll pound yer head ta’ dust!”

“He’s fine,” Donnor said to Keris. “If he’s complaining that much, he could fight another battle.”

“Damn right I can be fightin’ another battle!” Mikus climbed down, a grin on his face.

“Stupid dwarf.” Donnor grinned.

“Idiot human,” Mikus replied.

“I was worried. You went down.”

“Damn ondilaan fell on me after I stabbed it.”

“Then two more after that,” Keris put in.

“Glad you’re okay,” Donnor finished as Saress joined them. “Mikus, you’re in charge here. Everyone sleeps, watch at half-strength. Apparently, there’s a big pot up there, make a stew or something and get the men fed. We’re here until Ari and Tommy wake up and finish the healing. And I don’t care how good you feel, you’re on light duty. Organize this mess and then sleep. That’s an order.”

“Aye, Donnor.” Mikus frowned.

“I need to see the headman. Keris you’re with me. I have no idea how long I’ll be there. Saress, Mikus needs to sleep and I can’t be everywhere at once. Share the duty.”

Saress’s cat-like eyes reflected the light of the fire as she looked around, nodding in acknowledgement.

“Okay, any idea of how many we lost? I need a count.”

Keris, Mikus, and Saress just looked at him. They were giving him odd looks, silently looking back and forth between themselves.

“What?”

“Commander, we didn’t lose anyone,” Keris said.

“What?”

“We didn’t lose anyone. Everyone got to Ari and Tommy in time.”

“That’s not possible. Mikus, half your rank went down. I saw it with my own eyes. Keris, Saress and I were back-to-back with yours when they got around the flanks.”

“Oh, aye. That be true an’ all,” Mikus said. “But no’ a one was killed outright. Some be havin’ close ta’ mortal wounds, but we be gettin’ all ‘o them to Ari in time. She be blazin’ like a bloody star, she be, when they carried me back ta’ her.”

“Haleran lost a finger. Sollip had one of their war cleavers stuck in his shoulder. Larn went down, one of them had his leg in its jaws and tore it up pretty bad. And Canner almost lost his leg to an axe,” Keris said quietly.

“Dorn took a knife ta’ tha’ gut standin’ over tha’ twins. Karn an’ Turred went down wi’ me, bein’ stabbed here an’ there, but they be fine. Jaltol be bleeding from tha’ ears, but he’s awake. Tak be havin’ it tha’ worst; gut ripped open. But he be gettin’ ta’ Ari in time, too.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nisa Saliantrea and Tomilanthus worked a great healing, Strike Leader.”

“Gods. They’ll never stop chasing us now …”

“Strike leader?”

“Never mind. How are the sprites?”

“They want to stay, Commander,” Dap called down from above. “The old sire, Ahton, says he is indebted. They guard the Lady and your son as we speak.”

“Really.” Donnor looked at Saress and raised his brow.

“They are still weak, but they are sprites; accurate with the bow. J’al’osil they are not, but they guard your mate and your son.”

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

She gave him a pointed look. “I am down here, Strike Leader. Am I not?”

“Huh. Good point. Okay, I guess that does say something. Mikus? Saress? You have your orders. Keris? Let’s go.”

Keris led him back through the troop and into the village while the wind over the Serensea gusted by. They passed the house with the net, turning away from where they had come in, then continued almost to the southern edge of the village. There they came to a small cottage that couldn’t have been any bigger than one or two rooms where Keris stopped to knock. There was a thump and a clatter from inside before the door opened, letting the cheery light of a fire out into the night. It was Halbaad, who looked around before stepping back to hold the door open, then shut it behind them after they came in. There was another man in the corner, leaning against the wall with the legs of his chair tipped back. Donnor vaguely recognized him from out in the field.

“Ya’ didn’t have to come tonight.”

“We needed to see the headman, Halbaad. I’m not going to station my troop in his village without checking in. Besides, I need to make sure I thank him for the spot we have.”

“You’re welcome.”

“… You’re the headmen.”

“Yup. I’m the headman.”

Donnor put his head in his hands and scrubbed his eyes before meeting Halbaad’s gaze. “Sorry.”

“No problem, you’ve had a long day.” Halbaad grinned.

“Okay. Well, now I feel like an idiot for giving you orders outside of your own village.”

“Don’t worry about it. Sergeant Halbaad Garr, Redtail Guard, retired. That’s Corporal Torin there, also of the guard, also retired. We get it, and there wasn’t much time for pleasantries.”

“Sergeant Garr?” Keris said, surprised.

“Aye. Aren’t you Corin’s lad?”

“Yeah. I joined the guard after you retired.”

“Good for you. How’s your dad?”

“Uh, he died. A little over ten years ago, now. Orcs in the mine.”

“Damn. He was a good man, spoke highly of you. We used to drink.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, enough of that. Who are you, Commander? And before you start, thanks for out there.”

“Thank you for coming out,” Donnor replied. “They were encircling us.”

“Yeah, the damn ondilaan always do. Curve your line the next time, it helps. We always did, though there weren’t so many of them back then.”

“Yeah, about that. How long have they been here?”

“A couple days. Not long. We had a bunch of people coming through a few weeks ago. Refugees saying there was an army of them, but nothing ever came of it until about a week ago.”

“A week would be right after they’d hit Resthaven, Commander,” Keris said.

“That could be. Did you have a lot of ondilaan around here before that, Halbaad?”

“Just Hal. And yes, some, but only normal raiding parties. Ain’t seen one of them this far north in years. Five, ten, we can handle, so we did. And they ran off like they always do after we killed one or two of them.”

“I wonder if they were left over from the force that hit us …” Donnor glanced at Keris.

“I don’t know. If there were any left … we didn’t see any retreat,” Keris said.

“No. But it was night.”

“What are you two talking about?” Halbaad looked back and forth between Donnor and Keris.

“Hal, Resthaven’s been basically under siege for the last three weeks. A little over two weeks ago we got to Resthaven, then fought the final battle there last week. We killed somewhere around two hundred ondilaan, all told.”

“Gods.”

“Why didn’t they come here?” Donnor wondered.

Halbaad looked at Torin. “The old trade route?” Torin asked.

“Could be …” Halbaad rubbed his jaw, squinting his eyes as he looked off in thought.

“What old trade route?” Donnor asked.

“There used to be an old cartway that followed the hills, about a day and a half west of here. Us, Brookside, Harper’s Creek, and your Lakeside were never on it because we shipped our catch over the ‘sea.”

“So?”

“Well, it was the closest thing to a road in these parts. It joined the old west road in Resthaven and started there, then went by Silverlake, Lindendale, and then ended up in Torensdell. There were little tracks off of it to the rest of the villages south of here, but the old road was the main route.”

“Why didn’t Jarrod Tarr mention it?”

“Jarrod Tarr, now there’s someone I haven’t seen in years. Good man. Anyway, he probably didn’t even think of it. Nobody’s used it in at least ten years or so since the lord started building the bigger boats and that warehouse of his. It’s so overgrown in places it’s basically not there. We ship everything over the ‘sea now because it’s quicker. That’s why it all comes up here or goes through Harper’s Creek. The villages cart things up to us, then we ship it out to Redtail by boat.”

“Where’s this road come out?”

“The main track used to come out just west of Resthaven if I remember right. I may be confused. There was a little stream it followed that went right by town.”

“Makes sense, Commander. Moran and Oldsby said most of the attacks came from near the tannery. That was right next to the stream.” Keris said.

“Good point.” Donnor nodded. “How come the track we followed is kept up, but the old road isn’t?”

“Too much work,” Hal answered. “And, there’re still families with relations between here and Resthaven. Besides, the path you’re talking about is nothing more than a trail. The old road took artocks and heavy wagons.”

“Huh. Good to know.” Donnor let out a huge yawn. “I think I need to get some sleep, but we got off topic. What’s the ondilaan situation around Varmen’s Shoal?”

“There isn’t one now. The ones we met out in the field were all there were. They’ve been building themselves up to attack us for days, but only started making noise right before you arrived. They’ve mostly been killin’ people comin’ here from the south, takin’ ‘em unawares, but no one new has come in for days. That’s probably why they started attacking the village in the first place. There’s no other group we’ve seen,” Halbaad reported.

“That’s good to hear. We’re at half strength right now, the rest are wounded and will be down until our healer wakes up.”

“What! She took a break? Damn mages. Must be nice.”

“Passed out from healing,” Donnor said, laying a hand on Keris to keep him from standing up.

“Huh. Sorry,” Halbaad muttered, catching Keris’s furious expression.

“We have your wounded with us who couldn’t walk. I’m not sure how many you were able to lead out, but we only have a handful with us.”

“That’s fine. A lot of them aren’t mine anyway, not from the Shoal at least. We’ve been shipping refugees by boat to Redtail for weeks now, when we can. Almost all of our boats were called to the Hold, only got three of them left, but we try to send a boat there every week or so. A lot of people who helped fight are from further south.”

“What are they saying?”

“Nothing good,” Halbaad said, glancing at Torin before turning towards Donnor and the still fuming Keris. “They started coming about two months ago in bits and bobs, saying there were ondilaan. There are always ondilaan, so we weren’t too worried. About a month ago, the numbers picked up.”

“That was when they hit Lakeside, about a month ago.”

“Bad?”

“Destroyed. I made it out with nine.”

“Gods,” Torin mumbled, then spit into the fire.

“Glad we started those barricades back then,” Hal said.

“Damn right,” Torin replied.

“Anyway, the numbers picked up and they were all sayin’ the same thing: villages destroyed, ondilaan coming. I didn’t think much of it. I mean, since when do the ondilaan destroy villages? But I keep in touch with the lord through his elf, and warn him anyway. I get a letter in return to remain here, fort up, ship refugees to Redtail by boat, and help is on the way. That was about three weeks ago.”

Keris was still frowning, but piped up. “That must’ve been us.”

“Or, Moran and Oldsby,” Donnor put in.

“Who’s this Moran and Oldsby you keep talking about,” Halbaad asked.

“Moran and Oldsby are both sergeants in the guard. Probably after your time, Sergeant Garr,” Keris replied, frowning.

“They both lead troops of conscripts and were ordered to take up station in Resthaven,” Donnor added. “We were supposed to relieve Moran so he could return to Redtail for more training. I was there when Lord Maorilan learned the ondilaan had closed the other end of the pass.”

“Conscripts? That’s not good. But the ondilaan? Closing the pass? Are they sure?” Hal asked. “The ondilaan have never raided the other side of the ‘Peaks.”

“They’re sure. They rushed our deployment when they got word,” Keris confirmed.

“Damn. Well, with two troops in Resthaven, at least we’re secure here.” Donnor and Keris exchanged glances. “What?”

Keris broke the bad news. “The ondilaan must have bypassed you about a month ago and attacked Resthaven. Moran beat off the first attack, but his conscripts mutinied. When Oldsby got there, he fought off the mutineers, but a lot of his men died. There aren’t two troops there, there’s only one, and Arnet’s leaving it understrength to return to the Hold.”

“Bugger me …”

“And it gets better, we’re the only force in the area heading south,” Donnor interrupted, yawning again. “I’ve got my formal orders you can see if you want to, but basically, we’re supposed to head south, check on the rest of villages, and harass the ondilaan to give Lord Maorilan time to train the rest of the conscripts he has. The Guard is understrength; he had to send a detachment of them to the king.”

“The king?”

“The king is forming an army. There’re reports of thousands of ondilaan south of Tatdavarr.”

Halbaad Garr blinked at them in silence, obviously digesting the news. “I ain’t heard none of this. I think we need you to tell your tale before you get some sleep, Commander. You able to stay awake?”

“Yeah, just been crazy tired since right before the battle. Keris, head back to the troop. Mr. Tarr made some of that tea and has it in skins on the artock. Grab that and Tommy’s pack and bring them back here; Tommy’s bag has the orders and the chronicle.”

“Aye, Donnor.”

“An’, Commander? While he’s doin’ that, why don’t you start from the beginning,” Halbaad Garr’s accent thickened as he spoke. “I’m pretty sure we’ve only been gettin’ half the tale down here.”

Interlude

Day 216 – Yesterday we arrived in Varmen’s Shoal. We fought the ondilaan outside the village, and the villagers helped. The wounded …

“Tommy.”

“Yeah, Mum?”

“Time to wake up, Tommy.”

“But I don’t wanna …” Tommy whined. He could feel the breeze from the ‘sea wafting by, and snuggled deeper into his blankets.

“Time to wake up, Tommy, or your ‘da will be disappointed. You don’t want to let him down, do you?” He could smell the flowers mum kept in her hair. She must be leaning over him.

“But, Mum …”

“Wake up, Tommy. You have things to do. Important things.”

“Aww, Mum … All I have to do is go fishing. What’s so important about that?” He still had to mend the net that had torn. He didn’t want to do it, it was boring.

“There is more for you to do, Tommy. Wake up.”

“But I don’t want to wake up.”

“Wake up.”

“But I want to stay in bed. Can’t I sleep in?”

“Wake up. I have to go soon.”

“Where are you going?”

“Wake up, Tomilanthus. It’s time to get up.”

“… Huh?”

“Tomilanthus, wake.” Ari chuckled.

Tommy blinked his eyes open, utterly confused. It was not Yella shaking him, he realized, while blinking up at Ari, his mind still confused from the dream he’d just had. He looked around, yawning while taking in the members of the troop sitting around doing this or that thing. Then hearing the waves, he looked over, noticing they were on the banks of the Serensea inside a village he’d never been to before.

“Were you just talking to me?” He looked up at Ari, squinting at her in confusion.

Ari chuckled. “No, Tomilanthus, you were just hard to wake. It’s after noon, the day after the battle. How’s your head?”

It was then the headache hit him. “Unhhh. You had to remind me, didn’t you?”

“Sorry, Tomilanthus. At least we are not full days down like we were in Resthaven. Besides the headache, how do you feel?”

Tommy took stock of himself, realizing that compared to Resthaven, he felt okay. “Either I’m getting used to it, or it’s not so bad this time. I could eat.”

“Good. Here, drink,” she said, handing him a waterskin. “There’s some stew to be had. Sit up and I’ll go get you some,” Ari said, making sure he was able to without assistance before walking off towards the fire.

Tommy sat, feeling strangely disconnected as the dream left him. He hadn’t dreamt so clearly of home in weeks. Must be the sea, he thought, taking a drink. Haven’t been this close to it since we left the Hold.

“Tommy, good, you’re awake,” his da’ said, walking back with Ari who was carrying a bowl. “Eat while I tell you what’s going on.” His da’ sat, Ari sitting down beside him and leaning in while his da’ put an arm around her. “So, you two have been asleep since last night. There’ve been no more attacks, and we’re pretty much waiting for the two of you to wake up and finish healing everyone.”

“Did we lose anyone?”

“No, and I’m surprised we didn’t. You do good work, Ilari.”

She smiled at him, pressing into him firmly. “We do good work, Ilari. I can’t heal like that without Tommy.”

“I know, and I’m proud of you both. Anyway, you’ve made a name for yourself here, too, ‘my Lady’.” His da’ smirked. “You ended up healing some of the villagers who took to the field with us, and they haven’t been shy about telling people how ‘The Lady’ saved them.”

“Oh, no …”

Donnor chuckled. “Anyway, you have quite a list of admirers, Lady Arisaylia Saliantrea.” A grin spread across his face. “What’s a poor soldier boy to do?”

“Stick your head in a bucket, swine.” She poked him in the ribs, and his da’ laughed. “You’re in a good mood,” she observed.

“I am. I was exhausted after the battle, but woke up around noon feeling better than I have in ages. Hal, umm Halbaad Garr, the headman here, is a retired guardsman. This place runs well, people are thankful we’re here, there’re supplies, everyone is alive, and there’re no tragedies … it’s nice.”

“Good.”

“It is good.” Donnor smiled, picking her up and settling her in between his legs. Then he folded his arms around her, Ari wiggling back into him to get more comfortable. “Anyway, whenever you two layabouts decide to get up, there’s work to be done.”

“Layabouts!” Ari reached back with one hand and tickled Donnor in his side, then leaned back into him to get a better angle.

“Stop that!” his da’ said, laughing.

“I’ll stop you if you keep up with this ‘layabout’ thing.”

“Not my fault you sleep all day, princess.”

“I’ll ‘princess’ you, you lout.” Donnor grabbed her hands while she tried to tickle him more.

Tommy started chuckling at their antics. Ari was wriggling around like a fish and ended up squatting over Donnor, using both hands to tickle him. His da’ was begging for mercy between breaths, every now and then saying something in elvish that triggered her to tickle him some more.

Mikus wandered over with Saress as Tommy scraped the bottom of his bowl. “I’ll wager he be fakin’ it. He’ll be flippin’ her off before long, an’ she’ll be at his mercy.” He grinned at Saress.

“She will not let him win. She is already in control.”

“Aye, but it won’t be lastin’ long.”

“Not so.”

“How’s tha’ … kitty?” Mikus asked, grinning.

Saress eyed him balefully, raising one delicate eyebrow before making a big production of reaching down and gently patting him on his head. “Little men should be careful of making big jokes.”

Mikus guffawed.

“Anyway, he is already hers,” Saress said as her expression thawed, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes.

“Aye, can’t be arguin’ tha’ … been tha’ way fer’ever. You two done yet?” Mikus called, looking down at the couple. “It’s good yer’ feelin’ better, but if yer’ wantin’ ta’ tussle, find a room,” Mikus said with a toothy grin. “Ya’ don’t want ta’ be makin’ another brother or sister fer’ Tommy here where he can be seein’ ya’.”

“Oh, gods, that’s disgusting,” Tommy said.

“Mikus Gemhands! Did you really just say that?” Ari exclaimed.

“Oh, aye. Got yer’ attention, too,” Mikus said sweetly. “Ya’ gonna’ be healin’ today, or playing wi’ yer’ man?

“Oh, I think playtime can wait for later,” Ari said saucily, leering down at Donnor.

“You’ll never take me!” Donnor grinned.

“I think she already has,” Mikus threw in, laughing when Ari glared.

Then Ari laughed as well, getting off of Donnor and smiling prettily down at him. “I’ll deal with you later,” she threatened, flipping her skirts with one hand as she turned away towards Tommy. “Do you feel good enough to help me heal?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy grinned, looking at his da’ lying on the ground behind her, propped up on his elbows. His da’ caught his eye and winked, before picking up a tiny stone and casually flicking it at Ari, hitting her on the shoulder. She spun around as Donnor began to whistle off key, looking everywhere but her. A small spark of light came into being and shot forth, hitting him on the hip.

“Owwwww!”

“Would you like to keep playing, Ilari, dear?” Ari asked sweetly.

His da’ stuck out his tongue at her while Mikus, Saress, and Tommy laughed.

“I think we are done here, Saress, if he bothers me again, stab him.” Saress tittered, covering her mouth behind one hand.

“Hey!” his da’ complained, Mikus letting out a huge guffaw.

“Now, let’s start healing. Mikus, you first.”

“Ach, no. There be others hurtin’ worse than me,” he complained, backing away as Ari walked towards him.

“Tomilanthus, hand on me please. Yes, Mikus, there are. But you’ll need to be at full health to defend your friend here when I come for him later today.” Ari grinned, the light of her Tol entering her eyes as she glanced back over at Donnor.

“I ain’t be gettin’ in tha’ way ‘o tha’!” Mikus declared, grinning.

“Good. I always knew you were a smart one,” she said. Tommy felt her Tol enter Mikus and start feeding the areas around the wrongness inside of him. Her hands started glowing as she moved them over the areas where he was injured, a gentle green and gold light radiating from them while she worked. “Now stop trying to get away and sit down so I can concentrate.”

“Aye, lass. Let’s be going over ta’ tha’ fire fer’ ya’ ta’ work. Most o’ tha’ wounded be over tha’ way, anyway.”

They walked over to the central fire, Tommy concentrating on keeping one hand on Ari while they moved. Saress settled into her customary place behind them, guarding against who knows what when they sat. Ari’s touch with her Tol was very light for a change, and Tommy could concentrate on other things while she used him to help her healing. After she was done with Mikus, Mikus called for people to start bringing over the worst of the wounded, starting with Tak and Kordin.

“This doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would today,” Tommy said.

“You are getting used to it, is all. Do you remember when I described your Tol as a muscle? You’ve been exercising your Tol every day since we awoke it back in the warehouse in Redtail Hold. But you’ve strained it more than once, unfortunately.”

Tak was obviously in pain, whimpering slightly as Ari thrust their combined Tol into him. There was a large area of ‘not right’ inside of him, and she started to feed the areas around it with their combined Tol. Tak let out a sigh of relief as they worked.

“Why unfortunately?” Tommy asked

“It can lead to … ummm … ‘scarring’ for lack of a better way to explain it. Scars in your pathways. If you overuse your Tol, and strain it, there are consequences.”

“Yes, there are, Nisa Saliantrea,” Saress said disapprovingly from behind them.

Ari glanced her way before continuing. “Anyway, before we were so rudely interrupted …” She smiled. “… it could lead to damage within your pathways. There’s no way to fix that as far as I know, and I’ve been vigilant about making sure you haven’t had any with everything we’ve been through. We’ve been very lucky there hasn’t been any damage.”

“Lucky? How so?” Tommy asked as she led their Tol towards a particularly ‘wrong’ area within Tak. Tak groaned in relief as she fed their Tol into the healthy areas surrounding it, causing his body to heal and grow around the wound.

“I knew another mage, a classmate of mine. We were both learning a particular working, the one you saw me use to protect your father back in Resthaven. The multiple lights? Anyway, it takes a lot of strength and concentration to perform. My friend let her concentration slip and suffered for it. The Tol from her working damaged her pathways, and she was with the healers for months before they let her out.”

“Anabielli?” Saress asked.

“Yes, though we called her Anabiel in college.”

“That is a sad story, Nisa Saliantrea. By all accounts, she was a promising mage. The Vale lost a strong protector that day.” Saress worked her shoulders as she continued to guard, glancing towards a large bird that alighted on a tree nearby.

“Yes. See, Tomilanthus, the amount of Tol required to power some workings must be held inside the practitioner until released. And the power of the an’tor is almost beyond comprehension, the working you saw me use. It has to be held until it is ripe before releasing it to do what it does. Anabiel was holding her part of the working and lost control. The an’tor exploded inside of her, searing her pathways and scarring them from within. There was nothing anyone could do. She left the healers only being able to feel the Tol of life around her, but utterly unable to touch or work it.”

“What happened to her?”

“She died.”

“… Nisa Saliantrea … tell your son the truth.”

Ari frowned up at her guardian before huffing, then looked back towards Tommy, her Tol annoyed. “She took her own life, Tomilanthus.” She sighed. “Tak, you are done. Go rest if you need to, then you can return to your duty.”

“I thank ye, Lady. Tommy,” he said, nodding. They laid Kordin down next, Ari putting her hands on his head.

“I didn’t realize the story of Anabielli was so important to you, J’al’osil.”

“It is taught to all J’al’osil as a warning.”

“And why do you care?” Ari’s Tol continued to feel annoyed for some reason that Tommy couldn’t fathom.

“I guard your son; and you are training him. You are both my principals, but you know the risks while he does not. A principal deserves to know the truth so they can make an informed decision.”

Tommy wasn’t sure what was going on, but Ari’s Tol was obviously annoyed, though strangely … pleased? It was clear Saress was pushing something, and stepping way outside her norm to do so. It reminded him of something he’d seen one of his friend’s sisters do with her parents back in Lakeside, and he appreciated it. “Thanks, sis,” he said, half-jokingly as he nodding her way.

“Tomilanthus …” Saress began, but was interrupted by Ari making a very deliberate gesture with one hand. Saress shut up, glancing back and forth between Ari and him with her eyes wide.

“Sis?” Ari prompted.

“Well, she wants me to know the truth,” Tommy answered, feeling suddenly on the spot. “You’ve never lied to me, but if there’s more to the story, I want to know. It’s like back at home; family looking out for each other. Like how Nelt Tuulhod’s sister always watched out for him.” Tommy shrugged. “Sis.”

“It’s not a pleasant story, Tomilanthus; I would keep it from you if I could,” Ari said, her Tol losing some of its annoyance as she continued healing Kordin. The gnome seemed to be perking up a little, some of the pallor leaving his face.

Tommy looked at Saress who was watching the two of them intently. He thought about it for a moment, noticing Saress seemed a little … tense? … before saying, “I’d like to know the truth.”

Ari glanced his way and then at Saress before turning back towards Kordin. “I will consider it,” she said to Saress, whose eyes got even wider. Saress made a strangely formal gesture of her own before returning to guard, her back stiff.

Ari glanced her way and then sighed, and Tommy could tell she was deliberately changing the direction of her thoughts. Her Tol became almost … somber.

“Only the most promising candidates are taught the an’tor, Tomilanthus. Do you recall Di’ii’s ceremony?”

“Aye, it was beautiful.”

“You saw the web of life?”

“Huh?”

“The golden pathways? It would have looked like golden streamers connecting everyone who was there. You saw Di’ii’s since I felt you starting to travel it before I called you back.”

“Connecting people? There were golden threads everywhere. They connected everyone and everything, not just the people who were there.”

“Hmmm. I forget how sensitive you are. Yes, they do connect everything, and that’s normally very hard to see. Most would have to enter a deep trance to see what you did. Good for you, Tomilanthus. Anyway, those golden threads you saw are what the elves call tor’biata bar’lin, the webwork of life. Only the most promising mages can see the webwork, and Anabiel was one of them.

“Now think back on how you felt when you saw it. How did it make you feel?” Ari increased her attention on Kordin and he sighed as she pushed something from him with her Tol. A small piece of metal fell out of him, tinging slightly as it hit a rock. It looked like the tip of a knife or a blade of some kind, and Tommy could feel Kordin relaxing as it left him.

“It was amazing … and peaceful. I could have stayed there forever.”

“Yes. And anyone who can see the webwork of life feels the same way. To see it, you have to open yourself up to the world, completely, to every bit of life around you. And when you open yourself in that way, your Tol comes forth and joins with every living thing; taking and giving with the entire world around you, all of it at once. The mightiest can affect the world around them when entering this state, and those who can are called S’tol.”

“Didn’t Ahton call you that?”

“Yes. Well … not truly. S’tol means ‘master of Tol’, or, ‘master of magic’ in the common tongue,” Ari explained. “If I became a master of the college, they would call me S’tol Saliantrea, but the title doesn’t matter much outside the college.”

Saress snorted, shaking her head.

“Ahton called me San’ten’tol which means one who became, or one who becomes, Tol. It’s a very old-fashioned title, and where he heard it, I have no idea. I only know of it because of some research I was doing for the masters. Anyway, it used to be used in the same way, but San’ten’tol has a slightly different connotation.”

Kordin let out a huge sigh of relief as Ari pulled their Tol out of him. “You are all done, Kordin,” Ari said, smiling down at him. He was patting himself here and there, obviously not believing he was healed.

“Thank you, m’lady! Thank you!”

“Enough of that. Go back to your duty, and we can see to the next person who’s hurt.”

Kordin knelt and bowed, touching his head almost completely to the ground, continuing to mumble his thanks. Ari’s Tol roiled in frustrated embarrassment, and keeping her face straight, she reached out. “Enough, Kordin. You are welcome.” Then she bestowed upon him a gentle smile. “Now go! I have other people to see,” she said with a wink while shooing him away.

Saress put one hand on his shoulder, giving him a stern look while pointing over towards the main group. Kordin left, looking at them over his shoulder the entire way.

“I hate that …” Ari sighed as she watched him go, before turning towards their newest patient. And while Ari thrust their Tol into the gnome, she held herself silent, her Tol slowly losing its frustrated edge over time while they worked. Eventually, she continued to speak.

“Anabiel was one of the few who could see the tor’biata bar’lin around us. And, there was hope she would be able to manipulate it. We were both being taught to walk the light, and we’d taken our first steps along that journey a few days prior to being introduced to the an’tor.

“I remember that day well. Your father and I had just come back from the Awyrllyn, having spent the day there.” She blushed. “I wanted to show him something, and made a special day of it so we could talk about it. It was a wonderful day, full of laughter … and other things.” Ari blushed some more. “Your father and I promised for each other that day …” she finished, almost wistfully.

“Anyway, I was glowing when I came back to the college. They pulled Anabiel and I aside and then brought us before the masters. Then they explained our parts in the working; how we must join together to the point of almost becoming one, and then we began. The working itself is surprisingly simple, it’s just the amount of Tol required to complete it that makes it hard. We set to work, sharing our Tol similar to how you and I are doing right now, and the an’tor began.

“But something went wrong, there was some discordant note, and I felt Anabiel looking at something strangely within us when she lost control. The combined power of our Tol exploded inside her, and I used everything I had to shunt the power away and prevent it from killing her. I succeeded, but I was unconscious for over a week. When I awoke, the masters were happy but stunned, saying they thought my pathways had been damaged beyond repair. But they’d healed, incredibly accepting the workings of the healers despite the damage.

“Anabielli’s pathways, however, did not. And the woman I knew, who was funny and full of life, slightly annoying at times, but fun to be around even though she was more bookish than I, became utterly bereft of joy. I visited her at the healers before she left us. She was quiet and withdrawn, and hard to talk to. And when she did say something, she rarely had anything good to say. In the end she was a bitter person, and the healers asked me not to come saying I only reminded her of what she had lost.

“When they found her, she had left a note. The masters took it because it mentioned the an’tor, a secret that is closely held, but they told me the gist of it since it had been addressed to me. Anabiel, in the end, took her life because she could still feel the tor’biata bar’lin around her. Apparently, she had started seeing it without ever really trying to, just like you can. And she said she had to work at not seeing it, which is amazing in and of itself. But she couldn’t touch it, not even a little bit.

“She had been trying to touch the web, to commune with life again like we’d been taught, but she could not. And the fact that she couldn’t, knowing I was still being taught how to commune with it every time I came and visited her, destroyed her. The masters told me she hurt herself trying to touch the life around us. That she had ultimately succeeded, and completely burned herself out in the process. What they found was her body as if it had been cast upon a fire, burnt to a cinder, with only her coals and ashes remaining.

“That is why it is dangerous to overwork your Tol, Tomilanthus. If you damage your pathways, your Tol will not flow. And trying to force your Tol to flow will damage them even more. Imagine your pathways being so damaged that you could not work your Tol at all. Then imagine the power of your Tol damaging and burning you from the inside while trying to get out.

“You have seen what I can do with my Tol, and you have felt some of it in the Tol’An. You’ve enjoyed it, the majesty of it, I know you have. Imagine being able to see and experience everything you have … and not being able to touch it at all. To be forever cut off from the life around you, unable to feel.

“This, Tomilanthus … this is the ultimate consequence of overworking your Tol.”

Tommy was quiet, thinking about what Ari had said as they continued to heal. He took part of his Tol, casting it around inside of him, looking at his body from the inside. He could see his pathways, focusing down on one of them in an intricate inspection of worry. There was nothing. No damage or feeling of wrongness that he could see.

He brought his consciousness into Ari, inspecting her pathways like he’d inspected his own. Hers were glowing with a scintillating mist of greenish-gold light that sparkled as she directed their Tol through them. She healed the people brought before them, slowly tiring as she channeled their energy through her pathways. Pathways that were so much more defined than his own, so much more ‘set’ than his were. It was beautiful. He couldn’t imagine not being able to do what they did.

“I didn’t realize the danger,” Tommy said.

“I know you didn’t. And I purposely didn’t tell you. Neither did Saress, who knows the risks as well I. She is one of the few Ja’al’osil who has been trained to feel Tol, seeing as she is close to having her own, so she understands more than most of her order. But even she would not be affected by overuse or damage to her pathways like you or I would.

“Consider this. During the transference, we healed the sprites with a working that required a tremendous amount of Tol for it to work. It required all of it in a rush; every bit of it being used at once. Do you recall how I built the Tol up inside of you before allowing it to come to me?”

“Aye. It felt like a dam burst.”

“That is an apt analogy, and I will use it. Imagine that dam bursting but with nowhere for the water to go. What would happen then?”

“Well, the water would spill out everywhere and flood the land.”

“Exactly. Your pathways are your channel; your Tol is the flood. What we do normally, there is no danger. But if the draw is great, or the build up is too much, the dam will burst and your Tol needs to be directed safely towards somewhere downstream. And if that channel, your pathways as it were, are not firmly set in their ways, the walls of your channel will crumble and be swept away by the flood.”

“What will happen then?”

“Nothing good.” Ari paused, concentrating on her healing.

“So, what can be done?” Tommy asked after a moment. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No. Not being in a position where we have to work to or beyond our limits is best. But since you and I go where your father goes, that may not be an option. The best choice we have is to work on your control, which will firm your pathways until it’s as if they are set in stone. The more developed they are, the less likely they are to be damaged. And developing them means working your Tol; exercising it for lack of a better word.”

“If this is your way of getting me to work harder, it’s working.”

Ari chuckled, Saress as well. “No, Tomilanthus. I didn’t have that in mind when I told you her story. But if it motivates you to try harder, then I’ll take it.

“But remember this, you are still new to your Tol. You may have accomplished more, much more than people with your level of experience, but you’ve still only known about your about Tol for a little less than a month. Try. Try hard. But expect it won’t come without a lot of work and patience.”

“Great. More work … and more patience. You sound like Da’.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment then,” Ari said primly, smiling at him as the next patient was laid before them to heal.

A Twelve Course Meal

“Lord Maorilan, Nessa Alaris Farlesdar of Sirikii.

“Nessa Farlesdar, Lord Pawdrig Maorilan, Lord of Redtail Hold.”

Sir Laigan concluded the introductions between the two lords, returning to his place to the right of Lord Maorilan’s chair.

The main hall of Redtail Hold was resplendent this evening. The torches commonly used for lighting were gone, along with their sconces. Oil lamps now lit the periphery of the room with their steady pale glow. Fires were burning brightly in their places along each wall, while candles burned elegantly in candelabras on every table. The tables were freshly polished, their surfaces gleaming, reflecting the flickering light of the candles towards the people around them. Everyone of note in Redtail was present to welcome Nessa Alaris Farlesdar, who was a prince of the Vale.

And the army he had arrived with.

It had been a tense two days leading up to the feast they were about to have. After the elven army had appeared out of nowhere, for all intents and purposes on their very doorstep, the army stopped and rebuffed all communication for a tense few hours. Hundreds of elves busied themselves setting up camp before they sent a lower officer by the name of Salia, a strike leader she called herself, who carried with her an official offer of parley. The reason for the parley she would not reveal, only accepting a yes or no answer no matter what they’d said.

This had bewildered Pawdrig to no end as he hadn’t realized the Timeless Throne and the Vale were at odds, and an entire day of confusion and misunderstanding had ensued. During this time the survivors of the battle in the pass had arrived and tensely threaded the needle between the army of elves and Redtail Hold. Pawdrig had looked on with dread as a unit of elves descended upon the survivors, only to question them and then withdraw. Never once stopping Pawdrig’s forces progress, and never interrupting their travel, they allowed his wounded to pass through the gates unmolested and enter into the Hold.

Tintafel had been a nervous wreck, as nervous as Tintafel ever was since almost nothing ever really seemed to phase him. And he’d remained that way ever since the army of the Vale had arrived, regardless of confirming no hostilities existed between the Throne and the Vale. However, here Tintafel sat at his lord’s side, every now and then shifting his weight, glancing at the party from the Vale. Such a display was wildly out of character for the middle-aged elf, Pawdrig remembering the elf barely batting an eye no matter what had occurred ever since he’d been a boy.

Pawdrig stood. “Prince Farlesdar, welcome to Redtail Hold. I salute our elven neighbors and welcome you to the lands I administer for the king. I offer you welcome from the Timeless Throne as well, and am sure the king would offer that welcome were he here.”

“Thank you, Nessa Maorilan, head of family,” Alaris replied, his elven heritage adding a lilt to the way he pronounced Pawdrig’s name. “Your welcome is heard, and your hall noticed.”

Tintafel stiffened at Pawdrig’s side, something imperceptible to most but instantly recognized by Lord Maorilan. “I am sorry, Prince Farlesdar, your unfamiliarity with our rank. I am not ‘nessa’ or ‘prince’, Nessa Farlesdar, though I am unfamiliar with the ranks of your homeland and how they may equate. If you wish to address me by rank, then ‘lord’ is most appropriate. However, if you will, we can dispense with rank altogether and address one another by name. Is this something you will allow?”

Alaris gazed upon Pawdrig, and a tense anxiety slowly spread through the hall as his silence continued. The prince observed him flatly until one of Nessa Farlesdar’s advisors approached him, and a quiet conversation ensued.

“Tintafel, what are they saying?” Lord Maorilan asked, all but whispering. “I assume you can hear.”

“Yes, Lord Maorilan. They are discussing … protocol, my Lord.”

“Protocol?”

“Yes, my Lord. In the Vale, it is … unusual … to correct a son of the Wi’Jitikiin.”

“Unusual.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“How unusual?”

“Very, my Lord.”

“Is this a problem?”

“Not unless he makes it so, my Lord. However, by the customs of my people, you do outrank him … here, within Redtail, your home.”

“I haven’t played games of rank or court since I’ve been a boy. Is there any advice you’d give?”

“Do not offend him, my Lord.”

“Beyond the fact he has an army?”

“That as well, my Lord.”

Lord Farlesdar’s advisor stepped away, and Alaris looked upon Lord Maorilan once again. “I apologize, Lord Maorilan. I am also unfamiliar with the ranks of your nation. I thank you for your offer, but I would not wish to assume familiarity with one of your station. I will continue to show your family the respect your rank deserves.”

“As you wish, Nessa Farlesdar. Your journey from the Vale was no doubt long. We have prepared a feast for you and your party this evening. Will you dine with us?”

This was a critical question, Tintafel had said. That even though a feast had been prepared and would be held, and the prince had consented to come into the Hold, accepting the invitation to feast placed the prince in Maorilan’s debt. This seemed ridiculous to Pawdrig, but Tintafel had been adamant. It was not unheard of for someone of the Nessa’s station to refuse because of the debt inferred. If he accepted, it could be interpreted as there being no hostile intent towards the Hold. If he refused, they remained oblivious as to his intentions.

There was a long pause before Alaris replied. “Yes. I thank you for your invitation, Lord Maorilan, and for the welcome of your hall.”

Tintafel relaxed.

“Then, Nessa Farlesdar, please sit and break bread with me. Relax and cast your worries aside. Allow those of the Timeless Throne to care for you this evening. And as it is said in the Vale, far’e’na. Welcome.”

“Far’e’na,” Alaris replied with a formal nod before sitting in his place. And as he sat, Lord Maorilan sat as well, timing his motion to come to rest at the same time. Then Pawdrig tapped his goblet with the hilt of his knife, its ring echoing throughout the hall and signaling the feast to begin. A small group of musicians began playing in the far corner, their music’s lively beat lowering the tension in the room.

The hall was arranged differently than it typically was this evening, and it had been many years since the hall had been decked out for lordly visitors. Pawdrig hated the affected wealth and mannerisms required for state functions, and happily did away with them here at home. However, with an army at his walls, he had ordered every item of finery displayed, and every preparation made. He even had Hesia and the other two mages magic the hall and anywhere else they could foresee the visiting prince would go, using their powers to clean things to within an inch of their life. To say the mages weren’t happy about it was an understatement, but it was a formal order from their lord so they had to obey.

Two long tables were set up in a ‘V’, with the apex of each table immediately before the stair. Along each table sat the lords and their advisors, with the lords in the middle indirectly facing one another. A long rich carpet in the blues of Redtail’s livery parted the hall into two sides, terminating before the lords where a display of flowers sat. All manner of vegetation was arranged in a beautiful display, with water dripping from an invisible fountain powered by magic. The water of the fountain was lit an almost crimson red, and the red amongst the greens on blue were a nod to Redtail and its surroundings.

Past the lords’ tables were the rest of the hall. Tables were arranged in rows on either side of the hall and were sat with those who had wished to attend. From commoner to guard, and child to elder, everyone was dressed in their very best, looking to impress the visiting prince. A noble visiting the Hold was a once-in-a-lifetime affair, and no one was going to miss it if they could.

The kitchens were outdoing themselves, as well, pressed with what they could deliver in the first place. After Pawdrig had declared the feast to be held, he had ordered Master Girdly to do everything in his power to show no weakness, no strain to be seen. He still didn’t understand why it had taken so long for the prince to accept his invitation to feast, but Maorilan was wary of the silence he had first received. And he was also wary of the elves discovering how stretched things were within Redtail right now.

The feast was using up almost all of their fresh supplies. He had ordered the fisherman to work in shifts, long into the night, and everything they were serving tonight was coming from the sea if it could. The mages had even offered to work long hours to magic the fields, picking up on the unusual approach of the elves, and doing everything they could to assist. But nothing would quickly replace what this feast would cost, a cost they really couldn’t afford.

But they had to do it.

Pawdrig needed the elves and the army they’d brought with them. With the ondilaan blocking the pass, the army camped outside their walls was a gift of the lost gods. He couldn’t let this opportunity slip by, so nothing was going to be left to chance. And he’d made that fact abundantly clear to everyone.

Everyone.

The staff had been waiting to present the first offering, and started as soon as Pawdrig signaled the feast to begin. The doors of the kitchen opened, and a line of serving men and women walked out with trays full of the bounty of the ‘sea. “Chilled prawns in sauce, my Lord,” the chef said, serving the dish in a decorative glass chalice.

Lord Maorilan gazed across the intervening space to where Prince Farlesdar was being served at exactly the same moment by his order. Alaris caught his glance and nodded before turning towards his food, his party conversing softly in elven from what Pawdrig could hear.

He needed to engage him; needed to break through the formality of their positions without addressing him directly. How do you engage an elven prince? One of the prince’s escorts pushed his hair behind their ear. An elven prince who can probably hear everything that’s being said …

“Tintafel? Advise me.”

“Yes, my Lord. On what topic?”

“The Vale. Remind me of its workings. A summary, please.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Tintafel said, eyeing him curiously. “As you know, the Vale is hundreds of leagues from here to our north on the other side of the northern woods. The Vale is an elven enclave entirely populated by my people, and is led by the Wi’Jitikiin, the ruling body of lords. There are six lords Wi’Jitikiin, and Nessa Farlesdar is the son of one of those lords. It is unusual for a lord’s family to leave the Vale, but not unheard of, and the heirs do travel to other allied nations before becoming lords themselves.”

“Do they usually travel in the company of an army?”

“No. That is unusual, my Lord. As my Lord knows, I have settled and lived here for almost three hundred years. In all that time the army of the Vale has never been called upon to form. The last time was in Na’Tor Saliantrea’s youth, almost nine hundred years ago.”

“And Na’Tor Saliantrea is?”

“Another lord of the Wi’Jitikiin, Lord Maorilan,” Nessa Farlesdar answered from across the intervening space.

Tintafel bowed his head, making an odd gesture with one hand after Alaris interrupted him. To Maorilan, it looked strangely obsequious.

“This motion you make, Tintafel, I believe I’ve seen you make it before. What does it mean?” Pawdrig asked, glad for Alaris’s apparent attention.

Tintafel kept his head lowered, waiting a moment before responding. “It is a gesture of … respect to the Wi’Jitikiin, my Lord.”

“There are none here,” Pawdrig said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nessa Alaris Farlesdar is required to be given the salute by those of the Vale. He is of direct relation to the Wi’Jitikiin, and next in line to his father, my Lord.”

“Similar to a high prince, then.”

“Similar, my Lord.”

“You have seen such a gesture before?” Alaris asked, his lilting elven voice mixing with the water of the fountain in a soothing way.

“Yes. Here, in my own hall,” Pawdrig answered.

“Interesting. I compliment you on the prawns.”

“Thank you. They are a delicacy of the Serensea.”

“I wonder what other fascinating things are to be found this far south.”

“Let us discover it together then, Nessa Farlesdar,” Lord Maorilan replied, tapping his knife to his goblet. This time, the parade of servers approached with small hand-sized plates which they set down before them.

“Oysters in lemon sauce,” the chef declared.

“Continue, Tintafel. I am curious about the lords.”

“Yes, my Lord. The lords Wi’Jitikiin make up the ruling body of the Vale. There are six, each with their own area of control. They meet together in counsel for all acts which affect the Vale as a whole, but within their own areas, they operate independently. The position is similar to my Lord’s, with the title being passed down through birthright onto the current lord’s heir. It is different from rank here in the kingdom, however, in that it is up to the lords to designate their heirs.”

“Is that not how heirs are chosen here?” Nessa Farlesdar asked, popping an oyster into his mouth.

“No, Nessa Farlesdar,” Tintafel replied, again making the strange gesture with his fingers. “Heirs are determined by birthright in the kingdom.”

“So how do they know someone worthy of the title gets the position, Tintafel Alarion?”

Tintafel bowed his head. “They do not, Nessa Farlesdar.”

“Interesting,” Alaris replied, returning to his food. One of his advisors leaned towards the prince, whispering quietly in his ear. A chuckle spread across their table, one of the prince’s escorts smirking in the human’s direction.

“What is Lord Farlesdar’s position, Tintafel? Within the Wi’Jitikiin, I mean?” Lord Maorilan asked, eying the chuckling elves across the intervening space.

“Military, Lord Maorilan.”

“And Na’Tor Saliantrea’s?”

The chuckling at the table stopped.

“Magic, my Lord.”

“Is there rank amongst the lords?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Determined by what, Tintafel.”

“Age, my Lord.”

Alaris Farlesdar met Maorilan’s eyes and frowned.

“And how old is Na’Tor?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Conversation, amongst the elves, ceased.

Tintafel lowered his voice, almost whispering. “Excuse me, my Lord, but it is considered the height of impropriety to refer to one of the Wi’Jitikiin by their given name if not a member of their family.”

“I see.” Pawdrig glanced towards the elf who’d been smirking. “And how old is Na’Tor?” he asked, holding the prince’s gaze.

Tintafel winced, noticeably. “Almost a thousand years, Lord Maorilan.”

“Hmmmm,” Pawdrig replied, turning away.

Sir Laigan had stopped eating, as had the rest of the lord’s table. The elves were eyeing their counterparts, blatantly listening to their conversation. Their expressions were stony.

“And the Nessa’s father? His name is?” Pawdrig asked, taking a bite, affecting a total lack of concern.

Tintafel looked like he wished to sink into his seat. Pawdrig had never seen him so uncomfortable, and he could almost feel the weight of Alaris’s eyes.

“Lord Terris Farlesdar, Lord Maorilan.”

“And how old is Terris, Tintafel?”

There was a clatter from the other table as Pawdrig asked him his question. He kept his face blank, a skill his father had taught him well, and he felt the annoyance and frustration exuding from Alaris from across the intervening space. He was betting that Alaris was like Arnet, conscious of station to the point of being gelded by it. And he was betting the long conversation between him and his advisor before agreeing to the feast was being informed that technically here, in his own home and on these lands, Pawdrig outranked him. That rank giving him, seemingly unfamiliar with elven custom, the ability to ask a technically rude question without recourse.

Tintafel guessed what was going through his lord’s head, but wished he had chosen any other moment to display his understanding. He swallowed, making the gesture of obedience once more before responding. “Four hundred years, Lord Maorilan.”

“Interesting.” Pawdrig reached out, tapping the goblet with his knife and signaling the next course.

“Chowder of the ‘sea, M’lord.” The chef announced as the servers moved throughout the room. “An assortment of fish and shellfish in cream.”

The elves returned to their conversation, speaking in elvish and intermittently glancing their way. Lord Maorilan and Nessa Farlesdar were once again being served at the same time, and Pawdrig was pleased as he watched the elves take notice. He watched them relax when Sir Laigan and those at his table returned to their meals as well.

“I always enjoyed this selection. It was a favorite of mine as a boy. Do you have any favorites, Nessa Farlesdar?”

The question appeared to catch Alaris off guard, and he took a moment to respond. “There was a certain bird in the Vale, a’halen’dia it is called, that is raised to eat. It is served in many ways, but I preferred it cooked in hot oil with a spicy sauce. It is eaten with one’s fingers, Lord Maorilan.”

“A-hal-en-dia … I’ve never heard of this bird.”

“It is similar to a chicken, my Lord. Smaller. More delicate of flavor,” Tintafel interjected after Alaris did not respond.

“Interesting. It is good to know there are things that are similar between our two realms. Wouldn’t you agree, Nessa Farlesdar?”

Alaris slowly blinked before responding. “Yes, Lord Maorilan. It is good to know there are things we can both agree on.”

“Yes, it is. Maybe you can share your dish, and we can have my cook prepare it for us. It may not be what you are used to, but perhaps we can offer you something you are familiar with here, on the outskirts of the kingdom.”

“Perhaps.”

“How do you find your chowder, Nessa Farlesdar?”

“Exotic, Lord Maorilan. It has flavors unknown to me.”

“Then I am glad you are enjoying it. It is good to experience new things.” Alaris blinked but made no response, holding Lord Maorilan’s eyes. “Perhaps this next offering will bring you a better memory of home.” Pawdrig turned and tapped his knife to his goblet once more.

“Fried squid with sauce, elven style,” the chef reported, placing a small plate of fried squid in front of the diners. The small squids were bountiful in the ‘sea, commonly breaded and fried, eaten by those living around the Serensea with a tart red sauce. Elven style, however, inferred a spicy dish with a dark salty sauce one dunked the squid into, commonly eaten with seagrass accompanied by a flavorful root. It was an acquired taste for those around the Serensea, considered exotic, and not commonly served.

“You’ll have to excuse us if it is not quite what you expect. We have no elven population here excepting Tintafel, and every now and then one of yours travelling through.” Lord Maorilan used the tiny fork provided to place a morsel in his mouth while he eyed the elven table.

“I’m sure it will be fine, Lord Maorilan. One cannot expect to find the flavors of home with only Tintafel to rely on.”

Tintafel deliberately began eating his meal, not reacting to Alaris’s words.

“I find his service reliable enough. His knowledge is profound and his willingness to put his many years of experience into serving me and my family are well received. And even though he is not a chef in his own right, he does bring a certain bit of the Vale with him to the Hold.”

“I’m certain he does, Lord Maorilan. He serves well.”

“Yes, he does. Just as I am certain that he shares his stories about the Serensea with his family back home, bringing tales of the Hold to those curious within the Vale. Isn’t that right, Tintafel?”

Tintafel had gone ghostly white but answered gamely enough. “Yes, my Lord.”

Pawdrig took a slow drink from his goblet, eyeing Tintafel before returning his gaze to Alaris. The elven prince was looking back at him with a look of respect in his eyes. Nessa Farlesdar nodded once, before returning to his meal.

“Continue, Tintafel Alarion, I am enjoying your lecture. Tell me more about the Vale.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Tintafel strangled out. “There is only one major city within the Vale, my Lord, the capital city of Sirikii. This causes some confusion as visitors to the Vale assume the Vale is not well populated since there is only one city. However, this is not the case.”

“How so, Tintafel?” Lord Maorilan asked as he tapped his knife to his goblet once more, the diners finished with their squid.

“Greens of the sea and limmen nuts, with fruit dressing,” called the chef, his staff once again moving throughout the hall.

“The elves are family oriented, my Lord. They live in settlements spread throughout the forests of the Vale, working as a single unit to provide for the entire family. It is not uncommon for an entire family to work together to support one promising member, helping him to reach the pinnacle of what he can achieve. Then that member uses his success to bring up the entire family with him.”

“You mention he and his success; that’s an interesting distinction. Are only men allowed to succeed?”

“No, my Lord. Though it is exceedingly rare for an elven woman to achieve higher ranks in the Vale.”

“Even if she is better at her given role?”

“Even so, my Lord.” Tintafel glanced towards the elven table.

“Then how do the elves know the best-qualified person is in a given position?” Pawdrig asked, never once looking away from Alaris.

“They don’t always, my Lord.”

“Interesting. How is your salad, Nessa Farlesdar?”

“Palatable, Lord Maorilan. I must admit in all honesty, the flavor of the dressing is not to my liking.”

“A shame. The fruit that makes up the dressing is a rarity here, as rare as the elves. It adds a certain flavor, something exotic to the overall whole, don’t you think?”

“It does have a unique, almost singular, flavor. But the nut and the greens are tasty, more palatable to the tongue. Tell me more about them, if you please.”

“The greens are common seagrass, found almost everywhere along the shores of the Serensea, and provide sustenance for many a creature. The nut is a limmen nut, harvested to be eaten as is or ground into flour and baked into bread. Both are staples of the area, found in almost every meal.”

“Interesting. It is a shame the flavor of such a rare fruit would disrupt the overall presentation of things found common to the area.”

“Yes, a shame. But sometimes you must experience the exotic to teach you new things. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, but the exotic is just that: exotic. And you should always strive to hold on to whatever you hold most dear, even when you find yourself far from home.”

“True. Very true.” Lord Maorilan took a drink, waiting for the elves to finish before ringing the goblet once more.

“Baked yellowtail with sorna fruit,” the chef reported.

“Sorna fruit?” Alaris asked.

Pawdrig waved for Tintafel to answer, his mouth full. “Yes, Nessa Farlesdar,” Tintafel replied, “a sorna fruit. It is a purple fruit found growing on small trees local to the area. It has a tart and bitter flavor, its juices changing from purple to red as it is exposed to the air. It is common to squeeze the fruit onto the fish, or dip the fish into its juices when eaten. It is a local affection.”

“And it is placed on the fish, Alarion?”

Tintafel once again made the gesture with his fingers and bowed his head. “Yes, Nessa Farlesdar.”

“Interesting. Is it common to the area to squeeze something so rare to flavor your meal, Lord Maorilan?”

“Not often, Nessa Farlesdar. The sorna fruit is another delicacy found around the Serensea. It is highly sought after, though exceedingly rare, and because of that it is reserved for important functions. But its flavor is profound, and it complements the meal. Try it, please.”

“Interesting. It brings out the flavor of the fish, adding a certain heat to the end.”

“Yes, it does, and that is why it is so sought after. But overharvesting the fruit will kill the tree as it does not reproduce well. And because of that, it is much better to leave the rare fruit alone to appreciate the meal for what it is. Don’t you agree?”

Alaris blinked, then blinked again, before returning to his meal. His advisors were eating in silence, looking back and forth between the prince and the lord, their silence offset by the merry talking and laughter throughout the hall. The water of the magical fountain tinkled gaily during the pause in conversation, the peaceful sound allowing Pawdrig to relax.

He hated conversations like this, which was one of the reasons he avoided the capital like a plague. Every comment had multiple levels, every word dissected and parsed for its multiple meanings. Every utterance analyzed in minutiae for every possible nuance that could be gleaned. He was getting a headache.

Pawdrig tapped his goblet three times, signaling the head of his domestic staff to his table. “M’lord?” she questioned as she curtsied.

“Thank the musicians, Tessa, but I am in the mood for a song. Is there anyone of note in the hall?”

“Yes, m’lord. The new girl helping at the Happy Cup has a voice. Her name is Sella, I believe. Would you like a song for your table?”

“No, Tessa. For the entire hall, if you please.”

“Yes, M’lord.” Tessa curtsied before retiring from the table and moved to join the musicians. She spoke with them for a moment before moving towards a table nearby to speak with a young woman there. Tessa appeared forced to become quite stern, the woman apparently averse to whatever Tessa was suggesting she do, and quite a conversation ensued. But eventually the young woman acquiesced to Tessa’s demands and moved to join the musicians.

Lord Maorilan again signaled the course as the music changed from a lively tune to a more sedate and mellow piece. The young woman smoothed her dress, adjusting its top to cover her bosom more discretely while one of the strings began a high and sweet melody, all alone from the rest. The woman closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and began to sing about love and love lost, her voice twining with the hauntingly dulcet theme.

“Rock lobster, steamed with butter and wine sauce,” the chef reported into the quieting room.

Pawdrig found himself listening to the exclusion of all else as his course was set before him. The rest of the hall quieted as well, those dining seemingly affected by the young woman’s voice. The people in the hall carried on their conversation in quiet undertones, not speaking overlong while they listened and ate.

“A pretty voice, Maorilan,” Alaris remarked, interrupting Pawdrig’s inner thoughts.

He turned to see Alaris watching the singer, and was surprised he forgot his title. It was a long moment before Alaris looked away from the woman, and he slowly returned Pawdrig’s gaze. “Yes. Very pretty, Farlesdar.”

“Do you have someone, Maorilan? Someone special?”

“No.”

“I do.” Alaris paused, listening to the woman sing. “Someone very important to me.”

“You are very lucky, Farlesdar.”

“Lucky ...”

Pawdrig gave him a curious glance, but Alaris had only eyes for the singer. The lord and the prince continued to eat as the woman’s song came to an end, both watching her perform. Then the band started up another tune, this one livelier, and the woman started to sing once more. This time about a lass who flirted too much.

“Ahlahn fruit tart,” the chef reported after Pawdrig’s signal, most of the diners having finished their course.

“A’laan fruit. Another taste from home. And a long way from home it is, too,” Alaris commented, his voice adding a lilt to how it was pronounced around the ‘sea.

“An uncommon fruit to the area, but not unheard of. It is served in this manner in almost every home around the Serensea, Nessa Farlesdar. You can see villagers baking them into small hand-held treats for children during the various festivals in the area.”

“They are eaten raw in the Vale. There are groves of them in the north, and many families make their living by harvesting them to the exclusion of all else. They are plentiful, a staple of our diet in the Vale.”

“Then I am glad I could serve you something you are familiar with, Nessa Farlesdar.”

“Alaris, if you please.”

“And Pawdrig as well.”

Alaris raised his cup before drinking, Pawdrig copying his motion. Alaris glanced back and forth between Maorilan and the singer, obviously debating something, but the song changed before whatever it was could be revealed.

This time it was a merry tune that Pawdrig instantly recognized, causing him to internally wince. It was a bawdy song about a boy flirting with a lass, with many references to a woman’s ‘wares’. And whenever one of those wares was mentioned, the singer used her impressive figure to accentuate whatever she was singing about. She strutted about the room, her dress fighting valiantly to preserve her modesty as the more boisterous diners laughed and clapped.

“An interesting tune.” Alaris grinned.

“Yes,” Pawdrig replied, struggling to keep his face free of expression. A few of the elves laughed as the song went on, but luckily the song was short, and he signaled for the next course at the end of the tune.

“Roast chicken with roots and gravy,” the chef announced, the smell of the roasted birds accompanying the offering around the hall. The dish was met with gladness, its flavor mouthwatering, and Pawdrig was glad to turn the elves attention away from the bawdy song.

“I believe this course will be similar to the bird you mentioned, Alaris. What was its name, Tintafel? Al-something?”

“A’halen’dia, my Lord.”

“Yes, that’s it. You must tell me if you like it.”

Alaris took a bite, chewing slowly before swallowing. “It is very similar, though has a much stronger flavor. The gravy we do not serve, and is a new flavor to me. We prepare it instead with a spiced sauce, painted on as it grills slowly over a fire of scented wood.”

“Interesting. Scented wood.”

“Yes, there are many trees in the Vale with differing uses. Some add flavor to our food, though I’m not learned about them. I know that some are rare, and one must walk many leagues before finding them.”

“I thought the elves were averse to cutting down trees. Am I mistaken?”

Alaris smiled. “We are not averse to cutting down trees. We are averse to ending life if not necessary. A tree contains life, as does anything growing or living in the world.”

“That is an interesting belief, and it says you have a very safe place to make your home. I don’t think that belief would hold true this far outside the Vale.”

“It is only choice that makes it difficult, Maorilan. And we work tirelessly to keep our Vale safe.”

“Like taking long walks to find flavorful trees?”

“Scented trees.” Alaris chuckled. “We do not eat them. And, yes, sometimes one must undertake a long journey to find the rarest of things. I have done so myself, from time to time.”

“With an army?”

The scattered small talk at lords’ tables ceased. Lord Maorilan sipped from his cup while eyeing the Nessa, wondering how he would respond. Alaris put his fork down and took a drink as well, biding his time while settling back in his chair.

“It must be an awfully rare thing, Alaris, to travel hundreds of leagues with an army to find it. I don’t need that many loggers from the villages to cut down a tree, or fishermen to find a catch. But if whatever you’re looking for is that rare, perhaps we could help each other. I may have information and knowledge of the area that is vital to you, if you are willing to help me in return.”

Alaris continued to stare at Pawdrig, his expression closed. The song being sung came to an end and the next began, and it was a mournful tune this time. It was a song well known to everyone around the Serensea, a dirge about a wife waiting for her husband to come home from the ‘sea, never to be. The husband had gone fishing, his boat sunk in a storm, and the woman sang to her dead husband’s ghost until she too died. Ultimately, the woman drowned herself in her sorrow on the ‘sea during a fruitless quest, searching for the lover she’d never find.

Pawdrig finished his meal in silence, listening to the singer while taking a drink from his cup from time to time. He hadn’t intended the song to be sung, but a more appropriate piece at this moment couldn’t have been conjured if he’d attempted it. Her first song had moved Alaris somehow, and it was obvious that this one was affecting the prince as well. Its haunting minor chords were weaving in and out of the woman’s voice, poignant with heartache as the prince looked on. That woman can really sing, Pawdrig thought, stealing glances at her from time to time.

“A selection of cheese and wine,” the chef reported after Maorilan’s signal.

Alaris had still not looked away from the singer, his countenance closed and flat. He blinked as his main course was taken away and replaced with the cheese. The wine he took directly from the server’s hand, emptying it before setting the cup down. The server looked suddenly wary, sending a glance Maorilan’s way.

“Another for our guest please, lad.” The server nodded, quickly getting another glass of wine and replacing it before bowing and backing away. The silence at the two tables stretched.

“Perhaps you could share some of what bothers you, Nessa Farlesdar? It is obvious that something does. Or perhaps you could share why you have come? There must be some reason, some momentous event, to rouse the Vale beyond its borders, to come so far beyond any desire to dine at my table.

“I have made multiple queries regarding your intentions, and every single one has gone unanswered though you have agreed this night to be our guest. You are the son of a ruling lord, traveling with an army far from the Vale in the fringes of our kingdom. Your army numbers in the high hundreds, close to a thousand in all, and far outnumbers my own. The defenses of the Hold would make no difference to you if you attacked, and I have no wish to fight you.

“And I wouldn’t even if I wanted to, because our countries have been allies for centuries. There is a treaty between the Timeless Throne and the Vale that has been in place since my greatest sire’s grandsire’s time. And in all that time, not a single army has ever left the Vale … except yours.”

Pawdrig paused before continuing, Alaris’s stony countenance focusing down on him.

“By the words of your own representative you came here to parley, something only adversaries do. I find this worrying, Nessa Farlesdar, worrying and troublesome that you may consider us in conflict. And it leaves me confused, and that confusion therefore begs a question …

“Honored guest of my home, why have you come?”

A brittle, pregnant silence filled the lords’ tables after Pawdrig’s remarks. Tintafel looked like he wanted to disappear into his seat if he could, with Sir Laigan looking back and forth between his lord and the other table with one hand out of sight beneath its cloth. Alaris continued to stare at Pawdrig without answer, his stony face now lit by a fire in his eyes. And the elves at his table were pale and wide-eyed, silently conveying offense for their prince.

Dessert came and went while Alaris maintained his silence, eating the morsel presented. Pawdrig remembered his lessons, the lessons his father had taught him, and those lessons were proving true. Noble elves did not respond well to being openly challenged, nor being publicly questioned about their actions. However, by reminding the prince he was a guest who’d brought an army onto his host’s land, he had trapped him by his own culture, forcing him into a situation where he had to respond.

“Tell me, Nessa Alaris Farlesdar, what have you come for?” Pawdrig questioned again, staring hard into Alaris’s eyes.

The chef put a bite-sized treat down before them in silence, nervously eyeing the lords’ tables as he withdrew. The rest of the hall applauded as Tessa called congratulations for the meal, taking over his duties as host, understanding the tension at the lords’ tables shouldn’t be disturbed. His chef stood before the fountain, saying his thanks and taking a bow, his words accompanied by the tinkling of the water. The diners applauded, and the compliments were many, but at the lord’s table, silence reigned.

“Tell me, Farlesdar.”

The prince radiated anger, palpable to Pawdrig across the way.

“Alaris, tell me.”

Alaris remained silent, glaring.

“Tell me.”

“Fine, damn you.” His jaw clenching and unclenching as he spoke.

Pawdrig waved one hand, prompting the prince.

“I’ll tell you, damn the gods.” Alaris snarled.

“Then do so now, and be free of your burden.”

Alaris all but growled, his fury evident. “I came for my bondmate.”

“Your what?”

“My wife!”

Reasons Revealed

“Your wife.”

Pawdrig’s statement matched the mood of his study, as nonplussed as the expression on his face. It was many hours since they’d left the feast, Nessa Farlesdar joining Pawdrig for a private consultation in his study after his angry declaration of why he was there. As private as any meeting between two lords could be.

As opposed to his office many floors below, Pawdrig’s study was a part of his personal suite, his private residence within the upper floors of the central tower of the Hold. This space was exclusively his own, and he guarded it diligently since it gave him a place to relax away from his duties to the Hold. However, today was an exception, and the prince and his party sitting on the couch where he normally read his books was a necessary, though intrusive, presence.

Tintafel had gone still as death when Alaris declared he had come for his bondmate, utter confusion written across his face. Then upon Alaris’s shouted exclamation of “My wife!” his advisor’s face had gone pale, his pallor growing until Lord Maorilan feared he was going to collapse in his seat.

The prince’s advisors had gone pale as well, though it could not have been from any surprise on their part, them traveling with the prince after all. But as they began speaking quietly to the prince in their own tongue, Pawdrig noticed a tension in them, a tension that had not been there before.

Tintafel paid rapt attention to the conversation underway, many long minutes passing as the prince and his advisors conferred. This ended abruptly with a sharp, explosive word from Alaris that made Tintafel flinch. Then, in a voice hollow that was filled with some profound emotion Pawdrig couldn’t quite identify, Tintafel spoke.

“Lord Pawdrig Maorilan, I have erred …” Tintafel swallowed. “… Greatly. I beg to give you counsel,” he offered, bowing his head to the point of almost touching it to the table.

“And what counsel is that?” Pawdrig asked.

“My Lord, I ask that you invite Nessa Farlesdar into private consultation,” he said, not looking up from the table. “It is of utmost importance to the stability of our two nations. The hall is not the place to discuss what the prince has revealed.”

“Not the place?” Pawdrig asked, glancing up to see a blazing inferno of anger in Alaris’s eyes.

“I beg you to stay your questions, my Lord, until we are within your chambers ... Please.” He bobbed into a bow once more, still not lifting his eyes.

“Interesting,” Pawdrig replied, taking a sip from his cup, playing for time while he thought.

He’d known Tintafel was a spy for the Vale; just as his father, and his father’s father, had known. But even though Tintafel passed on the happenings around the Serensea to the Vale, he’d served every Lord of Redtail Hold faithfully and well. It was Pawdrig’s great-great-grandsire who had eventually placed him in charge of gathering information on the mood and undercurrents in the area. And since Tintafel Alarion had always faithfully passed on that information to the lords he served, as well as the Vale, Pawdrig had seen no reason to end the position his family had granted him all those years ago.

After all, the crown was aware. And the Timeless Throne had decreed a spy known was better than one it was unaware of decades ago.

Pawdrig was now in a situation where that spy’s loyalties were being strained, and it was taking place right before his eyes. He really wondered what Tintafel was going to do, and he fixed his gaze on his advisor while Tintafel stared resolutely at the table in front of him.

Lord Maorilan let the silence stretch. The elves finished their conversation, falling into silence, everyone waiting for him to speak.

“What specifically would you have me do, Tintafel Alarion?”

Tintafel bobbed his head while keeping his gaze firmly on the table. “My Lord, I would advise you to retire to your private apartments. I will attempt to arrange for the prince to join you there, but it is quite possible that Nessa Farlesdar will refuse. Regardless, I will join you and offer an explanation. Then you may determine my status and any further use to you.”

Pawdrig noticed Tintafel’s hands shaking as he said this, something he’d never seen before. There was an uncomfortable pause as everyone, including the elves, waited for him to reply.

“Tintafel, raise your eyes to me,” Pawdrig commanded. Tintafel did so, warily. “I do not understand what is happening here, but you have always served me and my family faithfully and well.” Tintafel flinched. “I will do as you suggest, and will await your explanations in my study.

“Nessa Farlesdar?” Alaris met his gaze as Pawdrig stood, Pawdrig offering him the nod between lords of equal rank. “I retire. I would like you to join me, and I offer you the comfort of my suite as succor in this strained moment. I will leave you Tintafel to discuss joining me there .... And if I have made any offense, I apologize for it now.”

Alaris remained frozen and unspeaking, his jaw clenching and unclenching while fire burned in his eyes. However, he eventually did nod, the slightest of gestures.

Pawdrig nodded in return while gesturing for Sir Laigan to join him as he stepped away. A halting conversation in elven began as he climbed the stair, progressing into a rapid dialogue so fast as to be completely unintelligible.

“Do you know what went on there?”

“No, my Lord. It is a mystery to me. The knights do not interact with the Vale, so we have no history with them. I have no idea why his wife is such an issue.”

“Neither do I …” Pawdrig’s response was lost in a single explosive word in elven, Alaris’s voice splitting the quiet murmuring of the elves. Pawdrig turned his head to see, catching Alaris watching him as he continued to climb the stairs.

It has to do with Saliantrea somehow ... But it can’t be her, can it?

Tessa scurried up the stairs behind him, catching him as they turned the corner, taking Alaris from view. “M’lord? I caught that you were retiring. The elves remain. Your orders, M’lord?”

“Allow their party to stay as long as they wish. Tintafel is arranging a private meeting to discuss some item of note. Inform the kitchen, and bring anything the elves preferred during the feast to my suite immediately. Prince Farlesdar seemed to prefer one of the final vintages, the serving boy would know which one. Bring that to my suite as well. I have no idea how many will come, nor how late they will stay. I will need the staff ready for anything.”

“Yes, M’lord.”

“Sir Laigan? Alert the guard. Allow the elves to come and go as they please, but only in the public spaces. If they wish to pass the gate, they may do so; do not interfere. Rouse the conscripts but keep them in their quarters.”

“Yes, my Lord. At what state of readiness?”

Pawdrig thought about it for a moment, pausing in his climb of the stair. His heart sunk. “Would you say that Prince Farlesdar is thinking straight at this moment?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Neither do I. And we still don’t even know why they are here ...” Pawdrig paused, deep in thought.

“Ignore my last orders. Bring the Hold to war footing, Sir Laigan. Quietly. Close and secure all barriers throughout the towers, but keep the gate and the hall open. Arm the men, reinforce the guards at the warehouse, protect the refugees, do as you think best.”

Sir Laigan tensed, then saluted fist to chest. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Go. Join me when you can.”

That had been two candles ago, the sun long since set. Pawdrig had paced his suite after removing the constricting finery of rank while leaving his clothes of state on. The staff appeared, efficiently as they always were, setting up his quarters to receive guests as he continued to pace. And his pacing unsettled his people since he was not known for allowing his moods to so easily be seen.

Tessa joined him a little while later, alerted by the staff to his mood. She spent time keeping him informed, using the Hold’s staff to observe and note events. They said the elves remained in deep deliberation at the lord’s table, the hall vacant after long since being cleared. Describing the conversation as tense at best, the staff stated the prince had said little, but repeated a single phrase or name often. However, the prince remained, not showing any interest in leaving the hall.

Lord Maorilan watched from his window as the conscripts were quietly mustered by the postern gate, geared for war. Then he looked out another window upon the elven army, camped at the mouth of the pass. They numbered in the hundreds, illuminated by soft magical lights scattered here and there amongst the camp in the darkness.

He caught sight of their banners and pennants fluttering on the breeze, then watched as the elven guards patrolled around their camp. They moved in such an efficient rhythm that it left no area unobserved at all from what he could see. It chilled him, and he felt their eyes on him no matter how far away they were from the Hold

Where did you come from? he silently asked the force.

The elves had a well-disciplined army, and it had refused all contact with him beyond the prince and his party. Pawdrig had futilely sent many men to talk to them, to see if any information could be gleaned. Anything at all. For he had questions, many questions about their arrival here.

And all of his questions had been rebuffed.

The pure fact of how they had gotten here was an enigma. They had arrived with no forewarning to the very gates of the Hold itself. It was as if they’d appeared out of midair. A complete mystery, as mysterious as the reason for the prince’s ire.

What are you doing here, Alaris?

Sir Laigan eventually joined him in his suite, conspicuously wearing a sword at his side. The knight frowned but followed Pawdrig’s order to set his sword aside, placing it within easy reach of where he had chosen to sit. Tessa watched them nervously, washing her hands before suggesting music to lighten the mood. Pawdrig agreed and left her to arrange it.

It was shortly thereafter a musician and the singer from the feast arrived through the door. The young woman was dressed in a much more conservative gown this time, obviously having borrowed it as it did not fit her well. Lord Maorilan took in her good looks as the singer fussed with her dress and awkwardly curtsied, Tessa officially presenting Sella to Pawdrig before tersely admonishing her to hold silent whatever she witnessed here this night. Then, moving the girl and the musician to a side room, they began to perform, the girl singing softly, heard but not seen.

A rap at his door proceeded the prince’s arrival. Alaris stepped into Pawdrig’s study that had been converted into almost a lounge, taking in the room before looking towards Pawdrig and nodding his way. Then he and his party sat, their backs to the windows, with Pawdrig and Sir Laigan between them and the door. Sir Laigan relaxed noticeably when they did so, while Tintafel moved to sit halfway between the prince and his lord off to one side.

The staff moved throughout the room, pouring drinks, and offering small plates of finger foods while Pawdrig took in the prince’s party. Beyond the prince there were five, and they were different than the ones at the feast. Three women and two men, with the men giving off a military air. Of the women, one was uncomfortable with being served, while the other two were alert, taking in everything around them. Excluding that one, uncomfortable woman perched on his settee, the others split the room into sections, each keeping their focus on their areas of concern.

Elite guards, they have to be. So, who is the woman?

They sat for many minutes in awkward silence before he decided to repeat Alaris’s final words from the feast once again. “Your wife?” Pawdrig prompted. The singer’s voice twined with the melody, attempting to fill the moment of awkward silence following his words.

Tintafel bowed his head, making that strange gesture to the prince once more. Prince Farlesdar made no response, so he turned his attention towards Lord Maorilan. “Yes, my Lord.”

“I was not aware Nessa Farlesdar was wed.” Pawdrig caught the prince clenching his jaw.

“He is … not ... my Lord.” Tintafel threw a nervous glance the prince’s way.

“One must be wed to have a wife.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Then I admit to some confusion.”

“Confusion surrounding the Nessa’s current circumstances is central to the issue.”

“I see. And that is what is causing this tension?”

“In part, my Lord.”

“Can you explain?”

“Yes. Though it may take some time. The situation is … delicate … my Lord.”

Pawdrig eyed his advisor, raising one eyebrow before turning towards the prince. It was easy to see that the prince was on edge, furious almost. It worried him.

“Nessa Farlesdar?” Pawdrig questioned.

“The Nessa has given me leave to explain, and will make no statement. This is a matter of culture, my Lord,” Tintafel said, bowing again and making another gesture his way. “What we are about to discuss here is considered rude at best, and outside of direct family, a conversation such as this would never take place in the Vale.

“The situation requiring explanation is a matter of arnhysh, a difficult concept to translate. The closest translation would be honor, though much is lost when using that word. However, it is because of arnhysh that the prince is here. The prince must be present and maintain his vigil over the words we speak, though he will remain silent. The reasons for this also involves arnhysh, and in this case the word dignity would be the closest approximation.

“But for explanations to be made it is required by Nessa Farlesdar that you agree to hold this conversation secret. This entire conversation will touch on private matters, and this is a personal matter … deeply personal, my Lord, and not a matter of state. This meeting is to be considered a meeting between two families; yours and the Nessa’s, between house Maorilan and family Farlesdar. If you agree, as head of your family, it is understood that any transgression will fall upon you.”

Tintafel paused, wetting his lips. “And you alone.”

Pawdrig thought about this, taking in the prince’s stony gaze. “I understand. And the Nessa is in agreement that this conversation may take place with witnesses present?” he asked, waving towards the various people and servants around the room.

“Do you control your house, human?” Alaris interjected, sharply.

Pawdrig blinked, nonplussed. “Yes.”

“Then the spread of words spoken here will fall upon you.”

Pawdrig sat back as the prince returned to staring off into space, and silence reigned. It was almost as if the prince hadn’t spoken. He was there, but his affect was saying he was not there as well. It was a strange scene, something utterly unlike anything Pawdrig had experienced in all his years as lord.

But the prince was there, and had not left. The prince was leaving the door open to discourse. It only remained to be seen if he would open it further. He made his choice.

“You have my oath. What transpires here will remain secret. The secret to be maintained by me and those of my house.”

Tintafel stood and bowed deeply to Pawdrig, then Alaris, as the song coming from the other room changed, becoming more sedate. The young woman’s voice wove with the melody high and low, coming in and out of harmony as the song continued. Almost humming, the soft tone of her voice smoothed the air as Tintafel addressed the prince quietly in elven, then stopped, awaiting his reply. The prince raised one hand and let it fall, Tintafel bowing at his gesture.

“My Lord, as was discussed some hours ago, the elves of the Vale are family oriented. This goes beyond what you have been taught. Well beyond. And everything in the Vale revolves around family, family rights, and family duty. As such, the concept of family is intrinsic to my people.

“A part of that family duty is the continuation of the family line. It is something not spoken of, another subject considered rude to discuss, and there are reasons for this. But what is important at this moment is to understand that fertile elven women are greatly sought after. Any fertile elven maid is … assisted … to find a suitable mate for the continuation of the family line. And any successful union is considered a blessing, the announcement of when a couple’s progeny reaches a certain age being announced to the Vale as a whole. Their offspring’s survival, the survival of any child for that matter, is joyously celebrated by my people.”

The prince’s jaw clenched again, Alaris almost seeming to vibrate in place where he sat. Pawdrig gestured to a servant girl to fill his glass, one of the prince’s party tensing as she approached. Alaris maintained his expressionless gaze as his glass was filled, and it seemed he might refuse the offering, but he eventually relented, looking angrily at the glass before taking a drink.

“And this subject of birth and family affects us how?” Pawdrig asked, eyeing the prince and the anger pouring off of him.

“The Nessa is a son of the Wi’Jitikiin, my Lord, heir to a ruling lord as we discussed at the feast. It falls upon him to continue his line; the family Farlesdar. The Nessa and his family are under tremendous pressure to do so, because if he does not continue the family line, their position within the Wi’Jitikiin will cease.”

“I see. This is the situation I find myself in as well. With no heir, I lose my holding, and the Maorilans of Redtail will be no more.”

“Similar in only the broadest sense, my Lord.”

“How so?”

“I believe you have cousins, my Lord? Those who share the family name? That if you die without issue, they will still be known as ‘Maorilan’ even without heirs of your own?”

“Yes.”

“The members of family Farlesdar will not. If the heir cannot maintain their line, the family dies, their name dying with them. The members of family Farlesdar will be absorbed into the other great families, their name being struck from the rolls of the Vale. Family Farlesdar will be seen as being incapable to maintain life on their own, its members scattered to contribute to life within other lines.”

Pawdrig sat silently, quietly absorbing this information, this drastic mindset. The song continued to passively intrude, the young woman’s voice winding hither and yon throughout the melody.

“Nessa Farlesdar has courted an elven maiden of acceptable birth and station,” Tintafel continued. “And that courtship progressed nigh on six years. The length of this courtship was short by the standards of my people, almost scandalously so for one of the Wi’Jitikiin.” The Nessa shifted his weight. “But it was an acceptable amount of time before an offer to formalize the union was made. The offer to wed was accepted, the declaration of life’s bond completed, and arrangements between the two families were made.

“However, in this case, the participants were of note not only because of the families involved, but to the Vale as well. The heir, Nessa Farlesdar, is betrothed to another child of the Wi’Jitikiin. And though his betrothed is a maiden of good station, the head of her family was otherwise childless, and had not announced an heir. It was feared her family would die out, that family being well regarded in the Vale. However, the maiden left seclusion, was courted successfully, and the couple’s pending union was announced to the Vale.

“A child was conceived, combining their bloodlines, and news spread. The people rejoiced as two pillars of the Wi’Jitikiin were being saved. One by the continuation of the family line, and the other by having a child that would be able to be named heir. The importance of the joining of these two pillars into one family, one house as it were, cannot be overstated.”

“I see … And the union between these families? These two pillars? Why is it so pivotal beyond just having a child in the first place?” Maorilan asked.

“Because to become one of the Wi’Jitikiin, one must also have Tol. Err, magic, my Lord. And a union between those of active magical lines benefits the Vale as a whole. The import and impact of such a union cannot be overstated; there were celebrations across the Vale.”

Pawdrig eyed Alaris, still staring off into space as if none of this was going on. A vein in his forehead was sticking out, almost throbbing from what Pawdrig could see. The pressure in the room suddenly made sense.

“The Nessa is a magic user?”

“Yes, my Lord. All of the Wi’Jitikiin and their heirs must be.”

Tension in the room rose as Lord Maorilan took another drink from his cup, once more buying for time. Sir Laigan glanced towards his sword, the elven woman watching his section of the room focusing down on him like a hawk.

Pawdrig suddenly remembered his histories and the tales that were told regarding the ancient war, and how that war had ravaged the land. How the mages had destroyed whole cities, how whole nations had been butchered. How the mages had been hunted down and slaughtered after the gods were lost. How the people had fought to recover, to this day still not knowing the war’s cause. The mages still being feared, sometimes hated even now, tens of thousands of years after it had taken place.

And one of them was sitting, furious, right there … entirely too close at hand. He took another drink.

“And this talk of magic is important in the here and now, Tintafel?” he asked, eyeing the prince.

“Incredibly important, my Lord. Because the Nessa and his betrothed, both users of magic, were with child. A child of the Wi’Jitikiin, confirmed by the masters to combine their bloodlines of Tol.”

Volcanic fires of fury roiled behind Alaris’s eyes, the tension in the room rising even further. The woman shrank, seemingly wanting to disappear into the couch. And Pawdrig became wary, wary of the increasing pressure in the room.

He signaled for the servant to once again fill the prince’s cup, the entire room waiting while the servant carried out her duty. Pawdrig took another sip in silence, waiting patiently until the prince drank as well. Tintafel looked relieved when he did, the prince’s advisors did too if Pawdrig was any judge.

He caught a quick, nervous glance that the uncomfortable woman on the couch shot his way. He’d be just as nervous as her if it wasn’t for his familiarity with Hesia, and he was wondering if he should call for Hesia when Tintafel cleared his throat, beginning to speak once more.

“In the Vale, if a child is born and survives when a couple is betrothed, it is considered a completion of that couple’s union. The pair is considered wed, or bondmates, from that point forward. The ceremony of life is considered a formality at that point, to be completed whenever one of the masters arrives to recognize and bless their formal union.”

“That is similar to how it is in the kingdom,” Pawdrig remarked, shifting in his seat.

“Yes, my Lord. However, it is not so for the Wi’Jitikiin. Until the formal ceremony of life is made within the council chambers in the heart of Sirikii, before the lords, the masters, and anyone else who wishes to come and bear witness, a union for the Wi’Jitikiin is not complete. The ceremony of life is deeply magical to the Wi’Jitikiin, and it affects our entire nation.” Tintafel made a different gesture this time. “It is integral to who and what the Wi’Jitikiin are.”

“And that is?”

Alaris raised one hand, making an almost formal gesture. Tintafel paled and fell silent. Then he bowed, almost touching his head to the floor.

“That, my Lord, I may not discuss.”

Pawdrig took another drink, his mind filtering what he had been told.

“By what you have inferred, Tintafel, a union of this type would be a desired thing, would it not?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Something like a betrothal between two of the high houses. Something that would be celebrated across the kingdom were it happening here. Announced publicly by the Timeless Throne, with festivals and balls going on till you were heartily sick of them. With young girls simpering and wandering about with their hearts in their eyes for weeks on end.”

“You understand, my Lord.”

Maorilan paused for a moment, dreading, but having to ask. “Then why did she leave?”

A terrible silence overtook the room. Tintafel bowed his head to the floor, freezing in place and remaining silent.

“That is none of your concern,” Alaris said, gripping the arm of the chair so hard that the wood creaked. His eyes flared; his knuckles so white they almost glowed.

Pawdrig froze as a pall settled over the room. It flew about like a cold breeze, pressing on everyone while it ran its course. The prince fought down his anger, some other emotion joining the fury behind his eyes, and it was many long moments before Maorilan dared to speak.

“As you wish, Nessa Farlesdar.”

Music soft and quiet filled the room for many minutes before Tintafel cautiously raised his head and returned to his seat. Or maybe it was a retreat, Pawdrig wasn’t quite sure. But he waited a few more moments, allowing the prince’s anger to settle before continuing to speak.

“By your words, I assume this ceremony of life has not yet been completed, Tintafel?”

There was shifting from all the elves in the room. The uncomfortable maiden was twisting her hands in her lap.

“No, my Lord.”

“And Nessa Farlesdar is here in search of this woman? This elven maiden he is betrothed to?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Another practitioner of magic he considers his wife? A child of the Wi’Jitikiin who is about to give birth? To fulfill his duty to his family?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“For the completion of this ceremony? Which is a matter of both family and state. Not technically being wed until this ceremony is completed?

“No, my Lord.”

Pawdrig thought about what had been revealed. Something was missing. Something of import beyond what he already knew.

“There is no reason for the prince to track his betrothed down. No reason to follow with an army, beyond hubris. The prince has impressed me as an intelligent man, and arrogance of that sort does not match what little I know of him. And he does not seem the type to force a woman against her will.

“She is not his wife, regardless of the child or his own opinions by what you’ve told me. The simplest answer is to end the betrothal and marry another.

“Something is being left unsaid.”

Family Secrets

A deafeningly fragile silence descended upon the room. The mournful tune coming in through the open door was barely making any impact. Tintafel looked back and forth between the two men and then knelt and bowed, head touching the floor as he made that strange gesture once again.

And silence reigned.

Alaris raised his hand, making a separate gesture before allowing his hand to fall. Tintafel shuddered upon seeing it then lowered his eyes, Pawdrig waiting until Tintafel raised his head before waving for his advisor to continue. Tintafel took a long, deep breath before doing so, glancing every now and then at the prince.

“The Nessa’s betrothed is Nisa Arisaylia Saliantrea, my Lord.”

Tintafel closed his eyes.

“And she is also heir to the Wi’Jitikiin.”

The prince’s eyes flared.

“My Lord Pawdrig Maorilan, I have been granted leave by the heir of family Farlesdar, Wi’Jitikiin, to be his mouthpiece for what I have learned. To mediate with the head of family Maorilan …” He closed his eyes. “… over a matter of arnhysh …”

Tintafel bowed low, making a tentative request of the prince in elven from what Pawdrig could tell. This was followed by a pause, a very long pause, in which every elf in the room looked at Tintafel in shock. Then slowly, ever so slowly, Alaris raised his hand once more. Two intricate symbols appeared on the back of the prince’s right hand, and Tintafel bowed, somehow communicating both regret and profound thanks.

The prince looked furious.

“The runes you see before you display Alaris and Arisaylia’s bonds, my Lord. The larger one is the declaration of life’s bond, a visible symbol of their intent to marry. It can be made visible by anyone with Tol, and the colors you see denote the aspects of their magic; green and gold for Arisaylia, red and blue for Nessa Farlesdar.

“The smaller rune, the white one centered within the other, only forms after the binding of the Wi’Jitikiin. The rune is only able to be made visible by the Wi’Jitikiin and their heirs, and even then, is usually only displayed in the council chambers during the ceremony of life.” The prince clenched his jaw as Tintafel said this, clenching it hard.

“Since the runes can be made visible, Arisaylia Saliantrea is alive and Nessa Farlesdar remains bound. Asking to present the runes can be seen as questioning the validity of the bond,” Tintafel bowed once again towards the prince, “but for you to understand, they must be displayed. The runes will not form without the bindings in place. They cannot be feigned. They cannot be falsified. And their validity is beyond question.”

Tintafel dwindled off, glancing at the prince as the magical marks disappeared. Then seemingly trying to recenter himself, Tintafel took a long breath before continuing.

“Lord Na’Tor Saliantrea named Arisaylia heir before the council in secret, many years ago. This fact was kept from family Saliantrea as a whole, as well as the Vale, something so unusual it is shocking. As such, I was unaware, only learning about it this evening. And Arisaylia being named heir is central in my error to you. Because if I had known, I would have never let events transpire as they have done so without offering you grave warnings.

“The joining of two heirs changes everything,” Tintafel said, somehow silently conveying his shock.

“My Lord, becoming betrothed for two heirs of the Wi’Jitikiin has happened only a few times in recorded history. It involves an ancient ceremony between the heads of the two families, and the couple involved, in preparation for the ceremony of life. Because of the magics the two families hold, and for the protection of the Vale, the binding of the Wi’Jitikiin merges the two families Tol, preventing the heirs from becoming fertile with another.

“And this binding … it binds them for life.” He swallowed, glancing at Nessa Farlesdar.

“The binding of the Wi’Jitikiin has been considered an official marriage ceremony by the Wi’Jitikiin for so many millennia it has been lost to history, regardless of the ceremony of life. Every time the binding has been performed, it has preceded a golden age of growth and prosperity for the Vale. Every time the bond has been consummated, the two bondmates went on to sire great families full of many children. And all the progeny from those unions have, in some way or another, altered the course of the Vale.

“The binding of the Wi’Jitikiin is joyously celebrated by my people; the last happening over ten thousand years ago. Paintings of the two and the others before them still adorn the council chambers. People asked for their blessings while they were alive, and families still do, naming their children after them to this day.

“However, this time the ceremony was conducted in secret between lords Saliantrea and Farlesdar alone, without the heirs being present. This is another thing that is so shocking, so staggering, if it became known it would rock the Vale. The bond that is formed can only be released by all six lords Wi’Jitikiin, or by the mutual agreement of the heirs who are bound.

“And the bond …” He glanced nervously around the room. “… that bond remains in place.”

“Arisaylia has left the Vale, my Lord, as you well know, and has not dissolved her vow. The heads of families Farlesdar and Saliantrea refuse to annul the binding of the Wi’Jitikiin ....” He glanced at the prince. “… for various reasons. Because of this, two of the six pillars of the Wi’Jitikiin are at odds, coming closer and closer to feud. And if feud breaks out between the Wi’Jitikiin it will destabilize the Vale.

Tintafel glanced towards the prince.

“It will shatter the peace we have known for thousands of years.”

Tintafel took a shaky breath.

“It will lead to war.”

There was a significant pause.

“The Vale has confirmed Arisaylia Saliantrea being in this area from me via the sprites, by way of Spritehome. The four pillars of the Wi’Jitikiin not involved in this dispute have decreed the heir of Saliantrea must be apprehended and returned to the Vale, to stand before the lords and answer for her actions. The army of the Vale was assembled for this purpose.

“But the massing of the army has rocked the Vale already. Lords Na’Tor and Terris Wi’Jitikiin were overruled in their objections by the other lords; both wishing to retain their privacy. The reason for the army’s formation has not been released to the people of the Vale out of respect for both families, regardless of the questioner, but the pure fact that it has created a whirlwind of speculation that is already destabilizing the Vale.

“Because of the parties involved, representatives of both families have been included in the expedition. But as lord Terris Farlesdar, Wi’Jitikiin, is ultimately in charge of the military of the Vale, and cannot leave, the Nessa petitioned and was granted command.”

Tintafel bowed once more, placing his head on the floor, prostrating himself before his two lords.

“Lord Maorilan, the prince comes as an official representative of the Vale. He is seeking his bondmate, mother of his child, and heir to family Saliantrea, and requires knowledge of her whereabouts. He is prepared to obtain that knowledge by force, my Lord, for the safety and security of the Vale. But family Farlesdar has chosen to allow family Maorilan this chance to reply.”

Tintafel paused, then swallowed.

“How do you respond?”

Pawdrig leaned back in his chair, taking another sip from his cup, once more buying for time. Alaris was no longer staring off into space, his intense and furious eyes were riveted on Pawdrig demanding an answer. The threat was palpable.

And so, it becomes clear. Clear as the waters of Silverlake.

“The elven maiden I met, identified as Lady Saliantrea, Tintafel, was not pregnant that I could see.”

“No, my Lord.”

The effect of his statement on the elven party was profound.

How can they not know? Pawdrig thought, keeping his face blank and glancing Tintafel’s way. He has to have told them …

“This being the same Arisaylia Saliantrea who left in the company of Commander Donnor of Lakeside?”

The woman who had shrunken into the settee gasped, her head whipping towards Maorilan in shock. Both of the prince’s female watchers changed their focus as well, turning their attention on him like hawks to their prey.

“Yes, my Lord.”

I have to be sure ... No help for it now.

“Accompanying the commander and his son?”

The woman on the settee put her head in both hands and moaned while Alaris slowly rose from his seat. A roiling light of blues and reds faintly encompassed his body as sparks flared in his eyes.

“A son?” Alaris asked in a deadly quiet.

“Yes, Prince Farlesdar. The commander’s son.”

“Was there another child?” The prince asked, his words deceptively quiet.

“No, Prince Farlesdar.”

“Was she with child?”

“As I said, no, Prince Farlesdar.”

The light around the prince brightened in intensity, his anger coming off him in waves. “An infant son?”

“No, Prince Farlesdar. Arisaylia Saliantrea was in mourning. It was discovered after her party left that she had born a daughter. That child died. The commander’s son is a human child in early manhood, approximately eighteen years of age.”

The woman on the settee hiccupped, stifling a sob as tears began to fall. Shaking her head back and forth in denial, she looked lost, mumbling quietly to herself in her tongue. One of the elven men beside her placed a hand on her back, offering what comfort he could while still watching the room.

“Died?”

“Yes, died. The village where she was from was attacked and razed by the ondilaan. The child died during the attack.”

“Did she do nothing to protect my child!”

“An’alia kap ton’a S’tol, Alaris Farlesdar!” The woman cried, tears streaming down her face. “Tu ton e’ Tol! Arisaylia Saliantrea nas su Tol!”

“Falia, a’nat!”

“Ta tu, a’nat!”

“A’NAT FALIA!”

Prince Farlesdar bellowed his rage at the woman, the light of his magics taking on a new intensity. A new radiance enveloped his hands, the glare casting her features in stark relief. The woman was terrified, but looked on with an almost daring acceptance, enraging him even further.

Pounding steps could be heard through the door as many feet ran to his chamber. Sir Laigan stood during the Nessa’s display of fury, backing towards his sword. Pawdrig raised one hand, gaining the knight’s attention as he heard Hessia’s voice screaming for him through the door. Sparks of light began dripping from the prince’s hands, hissing nastily as they struck the floor.

“Sir Laigan? The door, please.” It took everything he had to keep his voice calm.

“My Lord?”

“The door.”

“We must not let them see,” Tintafel quietly begged. “None must see him in this state! It is of the utmost importance that the Nessa’s dignity be maintained. His honor is at stake, my Lord!”

“Your safety, my Lord …” Sir Laigan began, placing his body between him and the prince.

“It is arnhysh!” Tintafel cried.

Pawdrig raised one hand, silencing them both as he eyed the prince. Baleful, molten-red droplets of light dripped from his clenched fists as he glared down at the cowering woman.

“Nessa Farlesdar?” Lord Maorilan asked, struggling for calm while eyeing the roiling magics.

The prince was silent, totally focused on the woman before him. She stared back at him, both terrified and challenging, all at the same time. She made the same gesture that Tintafel had been making all evening, that gesture to the Wi’Jitikiin. But there was something else in the motions she made, something stunning and new.

And that something was defiance.

“Nessa Farlesdar?” Maorilan asked, the light continuing to drip.

“Nessa Farlesdar!”

The prince turned towards him, Maorilan taking a step back from the threat in his eyes.

“Are we safe from you here?”

There was a long, tense pause.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to attack that woman, guest of my family? A woman who is defenseless? Another guest of my home?”

The prince’s eyes flared as Pawdrig stood before him, the magics wildly roiling beneath their surface. Every bone in his body told him to run but he forced himself into immobility, maintaining his calm facade. If the prince could have slain him with a look, he would be dead; there was no doubt. But the prince slowly narrowed his eyes before closing them, taking one, long, shuddering breath.

“No.”

“Then sit, guest of my house. Sit, please. I beg you.” Pawdrig gestured towards the prince’s chair.

“Sir Laigan? The door. None may enter. This is a private counsel,” he said, eyeing the Nessa, still obviously not in control. The prince eyed him silently in return, the light of his magics roiling chaotically around him, some decision being made behind those furious eyes.

“Including Hesia,” Pawdrig continued, hearing her panicked shouts. “She may not enter.”

Pawdrig kept his gaze locked on the prince, once again gesturing towards his seat while staring into the maelstrom of magic looking back at him. “Alaris, guest of my family, please, sit,” Pawdrig repeated, as gently as he could. He failed, his voice quivering as he peered into the whirlwind before him.

The prince stared. Then giving him a final, penetrating look, he acquiesced with a nod. He sat, taking a long drink from his cup, hands shaking with repressed emotions. Tintafel sighed in relief.

“Stand the men down,” Pawdrig said, holding another shaky breath until he could release it more calmly. Then, on impulse, he moved to refill Alaris’s cup with his own hand.

It was then that he noticed the other two elven women halfway across the room along both walls, hands in their bodice. They both had a menacing air, looking balefully on all present, like predators before they struck. The men were behind the prince, hands out of sight, eyes flat while maintaining vigil on the room.

“Yes, my Lord,” Sir Laigan replied, breaking the fragile silence that was settling over them.

The light around the prince slowly diminished though did not leave his eyes. Pawdrig and he studied one another as Sir Laigan spoke at the door, firmly refusing Hesia and the guards’ entry. Then the door was solidly shut, the knight returning with his sword in its sheath, conspicuously carried in one hand. He sat with his sword across his lap, studying all present. Silence overtook them and then continued, taking on a sound all of its own.

“The child is dead?” Alaris asked after a while, breaking the uncomfortable pall.

“Yes, Nessa Farlesdar. All reports say that Arisaylia Saliantrea lost a female child, killed by the ondilaan.”

Alaris took a long, shaky breath before letting it out. “Then my child is dead. May life take her and return her once more.” The prince drained his cup and then made a new gesture, covering his eyes as all the elves in the room did the same. “Let it be known,” he strangled out. The woman on the settee sobbed.

“And my wife, Maorilan?” the prince asked, his glare daring anyone to disagree. “Did you not know of the Vale’s request for information regarding my wife?”

“Yes. All know of the Vale’s interest in her, though not that she is your wife.”

“Did you communicate that knowledge?” Alaris asked, after clenching his jaw.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I knew Tintafel would.”

The silence between the men stretched.

“And where is she now?”

“I don’t know.”

The prince raised an eyebrow, his magics roiling to the surface once more. “I find that difficult to believe, Pawdrig Maorilan.”

“It is the truth, Alaris Farlesdar, no matter how much you may wish it weren’t so. She left with Commander Donnor and his son, weeks ago.”

“And where did they go?”

“To Resthaven, in the west, then further south.”

“To what end?”

Tintafel closed his eyes, seeming to shrink into his chair.

“To attack and harass the ondilaan.”

The woman on the settee put her head back in her hands and moaned.

“To attack and harass the ondilaan,” Alaris repeated, dully.

“Yes.”

“My wife, Saliantrea’s heir, travelling further into harm’s way.”

“Yes.”

The silence stretched.

“This Donnor, is he old for a human? Older than you?”

“No.”

“Does he have a spear?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes. Beyond the spear I gave him, the same one I gave to all his men, he has none.”

The light of the princes magics dwindled, now only a glimmer behind his eyes. “And her party?”

How does he not know?

“Roughly forty, Nessa. Local villagers; volunteers from amongst the refugees who took up arms to do what they could.”

“That is all! She left in the company of villagers! None went to defend her? She is heir to the Wi’Jitikiin!”

“Something not a single one of us knew.”

The prince huffed, clenching and unclenching his fists before him, vibrating in place where he sat. He closed his eyes, taking long, deep breaths, obviously forcing himself to calm. But the light of his magics kept coming and going around his fists despite all that he did.

“There was a dwarf from her village, Nessa. And one of the Redtail Guard volunteered to go as well.”

“A dwarf, Pawdrig?”

“Yes.”

“A warrior? With a family?”

“No, Alaris. Reportedly a logger, his family also dying in the attack on their village.”

The prince leaned back, taking another long drink, deep in thought. The light of his magics periodically whirled behind his eyes and it was obvious he was trying very hard to maintain control.

Tintafel was studiously not looking at the prince, and Pawdrig caught sight of his hand trembling. His advisor quickly met his gaze before immediately looking away, the slightest shiver overtaking him while he did so. He glanced and looked away once more, before intently studying the floor.

He is hiding something.

Pawdrig took a sip from his cup, thinking furiously.

Tintafel passed on their identities … he had to have had. How can he not know they’ve been here all this time? Is that what Tintafel’s hiding? That Alaris doesn’t know my family has been hiding knowledge of them for years?

“A man, an elf, and a dwarf … all travelling together ... from the same village. Unusual for this area, is it not? And no confirmation that this is the same party sought by the Vale?” Alaris asked.

He took a risk. “No. They met the descriptions closely, but there was no confirmation,” Pawdrig answered.

Alaris sat back, taking another drink.

I lie. They have no hold over me, yet I lie to protect them. Father, I’m keeping your oath when it’s no longer needed and it puts me at risk. Why do I blur their identities? Why do I care?

“I sent Ja’al’osil Saress as well, Nessa Farlesdar,” Tintafel quietly interrupted, bowing deeply and making that gesture once more. “She is ordered not to leave Saliantrea’s side, but knows none of what has been revealed here.”

“Saress! Efelion alara Tol, Saress!” one of the prince’s female guardians exclaimed.

“A’nat, Salia! Don’ton a’ii Ja’al’osil!”

The prince turned one baleful eye on her and watched her stiffen following his rebuke. The woman looked furious, but quickly removed all expression from her face and returned to guarding the room. The prince watched her for another moment before taking another slow, deep breath, returning Maorilan’s gaze.

“But no others?”

“No. No others. As I have said, they left weeks ago heading west to Resthaven. However, there has been no word from Resthaven since before they left, and that alone is troubling. I dispatched a force to Resthaven a week ago seeking why there’s been no word. It is three days to the village, and I expect word soon.”

“Then I shall travel west.”

This will be my only chance.

“Nessa Farlesdar, I cannot stop you. But I ask you to pause and consider this, my guest. This area is under attack by the ondilaan, and their forces have taken the pass you camp at the foot of. Commander Donnor of Lakeside was sent to battle the ondilaan to the south and west, and I know there are ondilaan in that direction as well.

“I have not discussed this but feel honor bound to do so by what has been revealed here tonight. The area surrounding the Serensea is under siege. I have been receiving refugees for nigh on two months, my outlying villages have been destroyed, and the Hold is packed full. This has been purposely kept out of sight of you this evening, my ally, as I knew not your intentions.”

“I am aware,” the prince replied, waving one hand towards Tintafel.

“I am sure you are. However, leaving Redtail and continuing west will allow the ondilaan the opportunity to attack the Hold. I cannot meet their attack in the field, not with the numbers they reportedly have, so a siege will result. And there will be no help coming from the Timeless Throne, half my number already being called away to fight in a battle there to the south.

“Our nations have been allied for generations, guest of my family, and I call upon that alliance now. I ask your help as a representative of the Timeless Throne to defend the Hold from the ondilaan in the pass. In return, I offer Redtail Hold and its resources for you to use as a base to conduct your search.

“You can travel much quicker over the sea than by foot. If nothing else, it would protect your rear to continue your search. At most, it will allow a quicker resolution to your problems and cement the ties between our two nations even further. It will never be forgotten.

“Please Nessa Farlesdar, help us, for we cannot help ourselves.”

The prince was silent, studying Pawdrig for many moments. He steepled his fingers to his lips before gazing far off, his eyes unfocused and considering. The singer’s song came to the fore once more, the woman’s voice twining in harmony with the quiet tune. Pawdrig only then realizing that the music had stopped while the prince was enraged.

“You have comported yourself with honor this evening, Pawdrig Maorilan, head of family, as well as any in the Vale. It speaks well of you, host and ally, and you are an asset to your people. May life be kind to your family.

“Though you have not done all that I desired, one thing has stood out. You have maintained arnhysh; your honor, and the honor of your family, while protecting my own. Even when I pushed you, as you well knew, you, an outsider, did this. For this, I will consider naming you a friend of Vale. Let it be known.”

Tintafel let out a long, shaky breath.

“Lord Maorilan, I, Nessa Farlesdar, am bound by the diktats of my nation to assist you. I am heir to the Wi’Jitikiin, and cannot lessen or besmirch the honor of the Vale. To consider otherwise is an anathema to all I believe in, for there is peace between our peoples, and we are not in conflict. Therefore, I must stay.

“But it is a matter of arnhysh that has brought me here. And it is arnhysh that is driving my purpose. I must recover my mate, and therefore, must go. And the man, Alaris Farlesdar, cannot be true to himself and stay here, while the prince, Nessa Farlesdar, is forced to do so.”

Pawdrig waited for any further comment, deciding nothing more was forthcoming when the prince stared off into space once more. The prince was obviously thinking, and thinking hard, and a brittle silence descended upon the room.

“Then, what will you do?” Pawdrig eventually asked.

The silence deepened. And eventually Nessa Alaris Farlesdar, heir to his family, son of a Wi’Jitikiin, betrothed to Arisaylia Saliantrea, and father in mourning, met his gaze.

“I do not know.”

Making Plans

Day 217 – There are some new people wanting to join up, so we’re staying for them to try out. It’ll help out the Shoal because the farmers …

“I don’t know what you’re expecting to find, but Brookside still be there last I heard.”

“I know, Hal, but I still have to go check. Arnet said there was something burning around there a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh, aye. I was no’ meaning not to go. But the last group to come through said they been fortin’ up like we were.”

“Good. That’ll make my life easier.”

“Aye. It will, at that. An’ that fire was a homestead, I heard. West along the road.”

“Huh.”

Donnor and Halbaad were sitting on the side of a wagon, one of the ones being used as a barricade on the north side of Varmen’s Shoal. The troop was out in the field standing guard as the villagers and the refugees worked to finish clearing the fields of whatever crops could be salvaged. They’d spent all day yesterday cleaning up after the battle, and had already stripped the bodies and burnt them in the most damaged section of the fields.

The fires were still smoldering, and Donnor was glad that’s all they were doing. Burning ondilaan stank, like roasting rotten meat.

“When are ye thinking of leavin’?”

“Probably tomorrow. Ari and Tommy finished healing everyone up yesterday, so there are no more wounded to be seen. You’ve said you’re going to be able to get the crops in today, so you don’t need us guarding the fields. And, you don’t need us hanging around after today eating up your supplies.”

“Appreciate that.”

Donnor nodded. “The further south we go, the more ondilaan we’ll meet. And, hopefully, that’ll take the pressure off you up here some more.

“Appreciate that, as well.”

Donnor shrugged. “You have any plans for when we leave?”

“No. Not beyond what we normally do. I’ll probably be sendin’ Jan to the Hold to report. You want to send something along?”

“Jan?”

“One of the boat owners. She took over the boat when her man died last fall. We only got three left, boats that is. But she’s got the biggest, and it’s the best one to make the trip. She’s been taking refugees to the hold when she can between fishing for weeks now.”

“Sure, I’ll get Tommy to write a report. I got him keeping the chronicles for Arnet.

“Your boy?”

“Yeah.”

“The one with magic?”

“Yep.”

“Hmmm. You got magic too?”

“Me? No. I do all right with a spear, but magic? No. Not one bit.”

“Where’d he get it from?”

“His mum.”

“That elven lass?”

“Yep.”

“She’s a looker. She yours?”

“Don’t know if I’d say she’s anybody’s, Hal, but we used to keep company.”

Hal snorted. “I’d figure you’d have to, to have a boy. Where’s she from?”

“Sirikii.”

Hal half turned to glance at him before returning to watching the fields. “That’s more than a little ways from here.”

“Yep.”

“A story there I take it?”

“Yep.”

“Not going to tell it, neither. Are you?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I tried.”

Donnor glanced at him. “How’s that?”

“Let’s just say people are curious.”

“Curious, huh?”

“Aye. Curious.” Hal spit. “Ondilaan at the gates, tryin’ ta’ get in. A man out of nowhere shows up with an army. Kills the ondilaan. People get hurt. Has his own princess who heals them up. Curious.”

Donnor sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not an army.”

“Oh, aye. Guess they’re right about the princess part, though.”

“Heh. Go tell her that. I dare you.” Donnor smiled.

“Not me. I be brave, not stupid.”

“Good man.”

“And I be smart enough to know it’s not normal for these parts.”

“Nope.”

“And I remember enough to know there be no elves livin’ around here in all my time in the guard, exceptin’ Tintafel. And them elves, they be lookin’ fer’ something fer’ all those years, too.”

“Really?”

“Aye. I’m thinkin’ yer’ knowin’ all about that.”

“Maybe.”

“Heh. Not sayin’ nothing about that neither, are you?”

It was Donnor’s turn to half-turn towards Hal before returning to watching the fields. He scrubbed his jaw, watching the men work. “Nope.”

“Donnor, listening to you two talk is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. ‘Yep’, ‘nope’ … Where did you two learn how to speak? The slums?”

“Hello, Ilari,” Donnor smiled as Arisaylia finished walking up behind them.

“Hello to you too, Donnor. Is this a private party, or can a girl join you two fine looking men?”

Hal guffawed. “Any lass as pretty as you who wants to sit next to me can do whatever she pleases. Get on up here, girl. You make the world better by just bein’ in it. There’s a stool over there.”

“Pay attention, Donnor dear. Take lessons from this one.”

Donnor grinned, rolling his eyes. “A’yup,” he said, bobbing his head and affecting the role of an idiot.

Ari tittered, nudging Donnor with her shoulder after sitting down. “You two solving the world’s problems up here?”

“A’yup.”

“Really?” Ari asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re really going to go there?”

A toothy grin split Donnor’s face. “A’yup.”

Hal started laughing.

“You’re such a boy.”

“A’yup.”

“Don’t even try, Nisa Saliantrea, they’ve been bonding all morning. The eloquence of their conversation has been falling ever since they sat down.” Saress had silently taken up station beside the wagon when Ari sat down.

Ari eyed Donnor who was trying to hold in his chuckles before turning her eye on Halbaad. The older man was fighting a grin as well, working his mouth while trying to wipe it from his face. “You too?”

“Yes’m.” He got out before he started laughing, Donnor joining in as well.

“Men.”

“What’s so funny?” Tommy asked, walking up from the village.

“Tommy, please tell me you retain a modicum of intelligent conversation today?”

“Modi-what?”

Donnor and Halbaad dissolved into laughter. Ari let out a suffering sigh, before chuckling as well, and even Saress cracked a smile while she maintained her guard.

Tommy looked back and forth. “What?”

“Stop, Tomilanthus, you’ll only make it worse,” Saress said.

Hal was taking deep gasping breaths as he fought to control his laughter, and tears were coming from Donnor’s eyes. It was many minutes before the two calmed down enough to stop.

“Oh, gods, I needed that,” Halbaad said after he caught his breath.

“Me too,” Donnor agreed, still chuckling as he put an arm around Ari, giving her a squeeze.

“Are you two through?”

“Yes, my Lady.” Donnor answered.

“Life, don’t call me that.”

“All day?”

“Yes, I’ve been hearing it all day.”

“Would you prefer Lady Arisaylia Saliantrea, flower of her family, jewel of Sirikii and the Vale?” Donnor grinned.

“Oh, gods. Not that either, you dolt. Just Ari, or Arisaylia. Seriously, is it too much to ask?”

“Ya’ probably shouldn’t be healin’ the common people if ya’ be wantin’ that, lass,” Hal said.

“Ugh. Where’s Mikus?”

“Out in the fields.” Donnor pointed. “He’s in charge out there right now. Keris is back in camp, should be asleep.”

“Sleeping?”

“Yeah, he was in charge last night. He’s got Laren with him; Mikus has Immer. They’re training them both in leadership, teaching them what needs to be done.”

“They show promise?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“Anyone else?”

“A few,” Donnor said, glancing Tommy’s way. “There was someone who took charge for a moment back in Resthaven; Dorn mentioned it. It’s too early to tell though. Speaking of too early to tell, how are the sprites, Saress?”

“Confusing, Donnor. They are a family, a tribe, but operate like a toulon. The eldest is close to what I would describe as ‘pledged’ to Nisa Saliantrea. Ever since they discovered the other four members of their ch’ten were here, wounded, and Nisa Saliantrea healed them without being asked, they’ve been this way.

“Dap has been struggling to convey their reasoning,” Saress continued, “saying they are from the deep wilderness, and that it is a cultural thing. It has something to do with ak’ta’tak, and they are determined to follow wherever she goes. Ahton has pledged to protect her with his ch’ten as long as we allow them to stay. And strangely, I trust them.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She was silent for a moment, then switched to elven. “I sense no deception, Strike Leader. And I turn my back without care. It is beyond strange. They are open and honest, completely devoted to Lady Saliantrea.” She shrugged. “I sense no deceit.”

“Oh, aye. Talk in a foreign tongue so the old man can’t eavesdrop.”

“Sorry, Hal,” Donnor said.

“I’m just jerkin’ your chain. Do what you will. Though this old man’ll need flirted with to make up for it.”

Ari smiled. “You hear that, Saress? He knows I’m taken, so you must have an admirer. Better catch him quick.”

Saress put a finger to her lips. “He’s a little young for me, but he is old for a human.”

“Hey!”

“Age generally does mean experience ... Hmmmm. He seems energetic enough … Do you think he minds if I bite?”

“Wait a minute!”

Donnor and Tommy were laughing when Mikus walked in out of the fields, Torin in tow. “What, by tha’ maker, be so funny? I can hear ye cavortin’ like a bunch o’ fools, away over there.” He pointed back the way they’d come, almost hitting Torin in the groin with his finger.

Torin jumped. “Hey! Watch it!”

“Oh, simmer down. It no’ be tha’ big, anyway.” Which sent the entire wagon laughing again while Torin stood there, blinking and confused.

“Hal, you okay up there?” Torin asked, taking in the laughing group.

“Aye. Just don’t be flirtin’ with that one over there, she says she bites.”

“Yeah? Sounds like fun.” Torin grinned, eyeing Saress up and down. “You’re a pretty enough lass. If you need to put your mouth on something, I’m game.”

Mikus shook his head. “Oh, boy, yer’ dumb,” he said, stepping out of the way.

Ari nudged her head towards Torin, fighting a smile and saying something to Saress in elven.

Saress grinned and then her ears pricked forward, locking in on where Torin stood. “Hmmmm.” She started walking towards him. “Younger, well built, attractive …”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Torin grinned.

Saress circled him, trailing one finger along his shoulders. “Mostly likely virile …”

Torin grinned some more.

“… enough muscle to resist my claws ...”

“Ummm, claws? What claws?”

“These claws,” she said, leaning in and trailing her nails across his chest.

“Wait a minute. Who said you have claws? What do you need claws for?”

“For the mating challenge,” Saress purred, gripping his chest firmly and making sure to dig her nails in.

“Hold on. Mating challenge? What mating challenge? Miss? Uhhh, Miss?” He started backing away while Saress affected a strut, stalking him back into the field. The entire wagon was laughing.

“I do like them a little more confident though,” Saress continued.

“I wouldn’t be doin’ that if I were you, Torin,” Hal said.

“Doin’ what? I ain’t doin’ nothin’! She’s stalkin’ me!”

“Stop movin’.” Hal laughed. “Don’t ya’ know the furry ones like to stalk their prey?”

Saress’s ears went back, but she kept strutting after Torin.

“Furry ones?” Torin asked, not taking his eyes off Saress.

“Aye, her.” Hal laughed. “She’s part cat!”

Saress stopped and look at Hal. “Askilat.” Her ears flattened.

“Huh?”

“Askilat. I am part askilat. Not ‘cat’,” she finished, obviously done playing around. She glanced once more at Torin before snorting and returning to her usual place at Ari’s side.

“Ummm, okay?” Hal looked back and forth around the group. “Lass?”

Saress stared off into the fields, then huffed after glancing his way.

“Are you okay, Saress?” Ari asked, giving Hal a disapproving look.

“Yes, Nisa Saliantrea.”

“Anyway, maybe we should talk about what needs to happen before we go,” Donnor said, purposely turning the conversation away from Saress. He could tell Ari was worried about her guardian, the two already having their heads bent together.

“Tommy, Hal here is sending a boat to Redtail tomorrow. I’ll need you to write a summary of what we’ve done for Lord Maorilan.”

“I can just send him the book,” Tommy offered, hopefully.

“You’re not getting out of it that easy. Just copy the highlights onto a new page and give it to Hal.”

“Aye, Da’.”

“And get with Alarat and Camm to tally our supplies; I’ll need that tonight. Hal, is there anything you might be willing to let us have?”

“Sure. We don’t have much, but you’ve said you’re only down a couple days of food. I can’t replace all that, but some dried fish I think we can manage,” he said, watching Ari and Saress.

“You have any barrels?”

“Barrels? Aye, we got barrels.”

“Might take one or two of those. Need them for water.”

“You can take ‘em. Might not want ‘em, though.”

“How come?”

“We pack fish in ‘em.”

“There is that. Tommy, ask Camm if that’ll be a problem for the artocks.”

“Sure, Da’.”

“Don’ be fergettin’ tha’ lads who be wantin’ ta’ join in all yer plannin’,” Mikus said. “There be a right few who want ta’ go along.”

“Think we should take them?” Donnor asked.

“Dunno. Up ta’ you. Though I be thinkin’ any who want ta’ be goin’ should, but we don’ have any gear fer’ ‘em. They’d need ta’ be bringin’ their own.”

“What about the ondilaan’s gear? We’ve got a pile of it back there,” Hal offered, hooking his thumb back towards his storehouse.

“I was leaving that for you,” Donnor replied.

“Oh, gods. You need it more than me. Take the weapons.”

“I didn’t want to presume.”

“Take it.”

“Thanks.”

“How many more want to come, Ilari?” Ari asked, having finished her quiet conversation with Saress. Saress’s ears were back up, but so was her hood.

“Twelve, right Hal?”

“Aye, twelve. There’s more, but I been telling them that this is no place for the old or children. Whole families want to be goin’ along.”

“No. This is no place for children.”

“So that’s two more? Beyond the sprites?” Tommy asked.

“No, Tommy. The sprites are on top of that,” Donnor said.

“You’re takin’ them, too?” Hal asked.

“Yep.”

Hal spit. “You’re sure workin’ hard to end my food problems.”

“Not trying to. I’m just not going to turn people away who can fight.”

“Them sprites can fight?” Torin asked, disbelievingly.

Saress cast a baleful look his way that Torin didn’t see. Ari placed a hand on her, getting her attention and talking to her once more in elven.

“Sprites are almost natural shots. Put a bow in their hand and they’re worth two or three men,” Donnor said

“With as short as they are?”

Saress growled. Tommy realized only he and Ari could hear it.

“Yup.”

“All the races have things they’re good at, Torin,” Ari interjected, sounding annoyed to Tommy’s ears. “Haven’t you ever worked with them? Or any other race, for that matter?”

“No, Lady. We saw that sprite lad in the Hold the lord kept council with, but we never worked with the other races in the guard.”

“The guard is all human?”

“Yes, Lady.”

“That must be it.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind, Torin, just something I was talking to Saress about.” She rolled her eyes, turning back to Donnor. “So, what are we doing for the rest of the day, Ilari?”

“Not much. We’ll finish watching the fields, then meet the twelve who want to go. Get our supply situation settled, then see what Hal can offer us. Pack up, and then leave in the morning.”

“They be almost done out there in tha’ fields, Donnor.” Mikus said. “I was wantin’ ’em ta’ be quick about it, but ya’ said ta’ let ‘em be.”

“Aye, Mikey. We’re not going anywhere today, so there’s no need to rush. When do you think they’ll be done?”

“By lunch? Maybe after?” he said, looking back over his shoulder. It looked like one of the hand carts was already full, two men struggling to get it moving while one of the gnomes was pushing from behind. There was a halfling off to the side saying something, and it sounded to Tommy like he was saying ‘I told you so’ for filling the cart so high.

“No problem. Get them out of the fields by lunch and I’ll meet the new volunteers then.”

“I’ll bring ‘em in to your camp, Donnor. They know me,” Hal offered.

“Thanks.”

“Think we need to train the troop today, Mikey?”

“No. Let ‘em rest. I don’ feel like yellin’.”

“Getting soft?”

“Shaddup, ya’ stupid human.”

“Tomilanthus? How long do you think you will need to write your report?”

“Ummm, I dunno. An hour or two?”

“Then you had better start. We can spend the rest of the day training your control.”

“We can do that first,” Tommy offered.

“He don’t like writin’ the reports neither, huh?” Hal asked Donnor.

“Nope.”

“Neither did I.”

Ari glanced at the two before rising. “No, Tomilanthus, write your report. We have to give the boys here time to play.”

“Hey!” Donnor objected.

“Enjoy your play time, dear. Come along, Saress.”

“See ya’, Da’.”

Ari leaned down to give Donnor a peck on his cheek before climbing off the wagon. The three walked away, Tommy and Saress joining her in conversation as they went, something about being tolerant of the other races from what Donnor could hear. His Ilari wasn’t being exactly quiet.

“I piss her off?” Hal asked.

“Yup.”

“Me too?” Torin asked, eyeing the retreating group.

“Yup.”

“Huh. Didn’t mean to.”

“Most never do.”

“Don’ be getting’ yer’ panties in a bind, ye two. She’s only mostly scary,” Mikus said with a grin.

“That doesn’t help,” Hal complained, eyeing Ari as she walked away.

“No’ meanin’ to.”

“How’s Immer doing, Mikey?” Donnor asked as the man in question came in from the field.

“He’s fine. Takin’ ta’ it easy enough.”

“Good, Laren is too. I think we’re going to have to take Dap out of the rotation, keep him with the ch’ten.”

“Aye. Easy enough. Anybody else speak sprite?”

“Yeah. All the sprites do,” Immer chimed in. “But if we pull them all out of the archers, I’ll only have two left in my group.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing that,” Donnor said. “Mikey and I were talking; your groups are going to remain the same. It’s just that with the ch’ten now going along, there’s a whole new group of archers back with the animals. With Petal back there on her own, and Dap translating, they’re probably going to pair up. Add the ten sprites who can shoot, that makes twelve. Eleven if Ahton’s wife guards the child instead of shooting. That’s still more than your and Laren’s groups since you only have four a piece.”

“Laren only has three with Dap gone,” Immer corrected.

“Damn, you’re right, I forgot about that. Guess we’ll give him Petal then. That’s still eleven back there.”

“I still say we need ta’ be havin’ tha’ artock get closer ta’ tha’ line,” Mikey said

“I’m starting to agree with you. Just to get the sprites into range.”

“Into range?” Torin asked, having listened intently as the counsel went on.

“Yeah, Torin. Sprites are fine shots; they just can’t shoot as far as the bigger races. It’s not much of a difference, but they can’t stand back and volley like you’d expect.”

“Deadly in tha’ trees, though,” Mikus said.

“Yup.”

“Anythin’ else?”

“Not that I can think of. Rest up, reorganize, resupply, head out in the morning.”

“Aye, tha’ be what I be thinkin’, as well.”

“Then we should probably get back to doing it.”

“Aye. An’ what’re ya’ gonna’ be doin’?”

“Fishing.”

“Ya’ bastard.”

***

Ari flicked the mage globe back towards him, and Tommy narrowly avoided touching her streamer with his Tol. He heard the ‘click’ of connection when he made contact, then took over feeding the globe, smiling at his success.

“Well done, Tomilanthus.”

“Thanks. Why’d you throw it so fast?”

“To see if you could catch it.”

“Nice,” Tommy complained.

“You did well. Now toss it back, it’s not often we have an entire afternoon to train.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ma’am? Really, Tomilanthus?”

Tommy smirked, tossing the mage globe back. “Yes, ma’am.”

Ari caught it, a dozen more popping into existence beside her. “Catch,” she said, lobbing them at him in a deluge of glowing, greenish-gold balls of light.

“Hey! Ow!” Tommy exclaimed as more than one hit him, a slight pinch accompanying each strike as his clumsy attempts to catch them banished them one by one.

“Ma’am. Humph,” Ari teased, a twinkle of mischief entering her eyes. Saress snorted from behind, shaking her head at Arisaylia’s antics. Everyone knew full well Ari wanted Tommy to call her by name, him included.

“Would you like to try it again?” she asked sweetly, another dozen or so globes coming into existence around her.

“Yes,” Tommy said, warily. “Ari,” he quickly added as she arched one of her delicate eyebrows.

“Very good, Tomilanthus.” All but one of the globes winked back out. “Let’s try to catch this one, shall we.” The remaining orb lobbed its way in from his right, back to the normal slow speeds of practice.

They were sitting in camp by the artock, and had been since leaving his da’. After talking a bit about the various races and what was considered rude, they’d started his lessons into control. This attracted the sprites who were watching them closely from nearby. And there was quite a chittering conversation going on over there, but since Dap was asleep, Tommy had no idea what was being said.

The little sprite girl, however, was enraptured by the bouncing lights, watching them intently as the mage globes bounced back and forth. She’d gotten up to come over to them more than once, Tonat keeping a close eye on her and heading her off whenever she got too close. The girl didn’t want to stay away, though, frowning and chittering in obvious disappointment when she wasn’t allowed to play.

Tommy caught another mage globe, trading control with Ari before lobbing it back. “It’s a shame they’re not solid.”

“Huh?” Ari said, tossing it back once more.

“The globes. It’s a shame they’re not solid.”

“They can be solid.”

“They can?”

“Sure. It just requires more Tol.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, no. You have to change the texture of your working, but it’s not hard. Why do you ask?”

“The sprite girl,” he said, hooking his thumb towards her. “She wants to play.”

Ari looked over, catching the young sprite watching them toss the mage globe back and forth. “I think we can help with that.” She smiled, another globe popping into existence beside her.

“Follow along Tomilanthus, but do not feed this globe or it will burst. Just watch what I do,” Ari said as she pulsed her Tol to get his attention. “This is beyond you, but there’s no reason you can’t follow along to see how it’s done.”

Tommy focused on where she indicated, seeing a new thread of Tol pushing itself from her body. It was no different from the ones they’d used to make the globes, and so he said as much. She nodded before pulsing her Tol once more, changing the way she fed her thread.

She was making her Tol hard, that was the only way to describe it. And the hardness was happening slowly, gradually taking on an almost crystalline matrix as it progressed up the globe. Once the changes were complete, the globe dropped from beside Ari’s shoulder and hit the ground with a dull thud.

“How come the thread doesn’t break?” Tommy asked, not understanding why the tendril of Tol powering the globe hadn’t shattered, seeing as how bent it was. It felt rock hard to his senses, and he was surprised the thread could bend at all.

“That is a matter of control. I’m cycling the hardness up and down my thread. It doesn’t take much effort, and there’s a trick to it, but it does require a bit of concentration.” Ari picked up the now solid sphere as another globe formed and was tossed his way.

“Must not take that much concentration if you can do that,” Tommy complained. He bobbled his catch, but connected to it without banishing the globe. He took over feeding it, holding it beside his shoulder while Ari rose.

“Tomilanthus, I’ve been making mage globes for over a hundred years. I’d say I have a bit of practice making a globe.”

“There is that,” he said as she walked over to the sprites.

The conversation there ended as she approached, a few of them looking warily towards the globe in her hand. She smiled down at the girl while holding out the shining sphere. The girl looked back and forth between Ari and Tonat, slowly reaching out before smiling and clutching the globe to her chest. She started happily chittering away, bouncing the ball of light in her hands while saying something of tremendous import to Tonat as the sprite matron looked on. Ari turned to go but the matron reached out, grabbing her hand and stopping her, chittering something while meeting Ari’s eyes.

“You are welcome,” Ari replied, squeezing Tonat’s hand once before letting it go. “Are you going to toss that back?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, tearing his attention away from the happily beaming child. The conversation among the sprites started back up, more intent than before.

“How are you able to keep that one going while we’re doing this?”

“Practice. I’m not really using much concentration tossing mage globes with you. Keeping her globe going while practicing with you is good practice for me. Keeping hers solid as she tosses it around isn’t exactly easy.”

“I can imagine.” The girl was now holding it out to one of the older sprites, obviously demanding he play. They started bouncing the globe back and forth, the girl happily beaming the entire time.

A globe lobbed in from his side.

“Ow!” Tommy exclaimed when he accidentally banished it, trying to catch it before it hit him in the face.

“Pay attention, you’re here to learn. The girl can play without you.”

“Did you have to throw it at my face?”

“I didn’t. You didn’t notice it until it almost hit you.”

“Sorry. It’s just she kind of reminds me of Di’ii.”

“… Me too.”

“Sorry.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about. Di’ii’s soul will return, Tomilanthus. What will be, will be,” Ari finished, forming another mage globe and tossing it his way.

He caught it, this time steadily, transferring control before lobbing it back. “How can you be so calm about it?”

“Calm? I’m not calm, Tomilanthus. I was devastated when Di’ii died. It hurts almost every day, even still.”

“So how come you don’t show it?”

“Because she’ll return.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes … Don’t you remember the Ar B’ten? Her rite?”

“Well sure, how could I forget? It was beautiful.”

“Yes, it was. I’m not lying to you when I said we sent her soul to rest. The streamer of light you saw was her soul. It will come back.”

“But how will you know it’s her?”

“I won’t. But my soul will.”

“Huh?”

“Our souls formed a connection, Tomilanthus, when hers agreed to be born through me into this life. That is what I believe. I may never know her again, and that hurts, of course it hurts, but her soul will return. And my soul will know and recognize her when it does.”

The games of catch continued, both magical and physical while Tommy thought. He caught one coming in from his left and sent it back without really thinking about it. Ari’s eyebrows rose as his catch and release happened almost instantaneously, like he’d been practicing it for many years.

“It just seems weird, is all,” Tommy said, watching the globe. The sprites game of catch must be picking up, he thought. A lot of chittering going on over there.

“It must, to you. But, Tommy, consider this,” Ari said as she sent another globe his way. “I am barely considered an adult by my people. I could easily live another five hundred years, possibly much longer than that. During that time, I could have many children, but the curse of the elves is that almost none will ever survive being born, and fewer still will live past infancy. I’ve been very lucky to have born two healthy children, both of you surviving your birth. If I let myself descend into depression every time a child is lost, I’ll be doomed.”

“Five hundred years?”

“Well, how old do you think elves live? My father is almost a thousand years old.”

“I can’t imagine,” he said, another globe caught and released, heading Ari’s way.

“That is because of how you were raised. Think about it, Tomilanthus. You know you are half elven. How old do you think you will live?”

“I don’t know. Older than most. Maybe a hundred?”

Ari chuckled. “Easily a hundred. Half-elven children were commonly recorded to live to at least two hundred years old.”

“Two hundred!” Tommy’s Tol surged with surprise, causing his tendril to miss the globe coming his way. The globe hit him, winking out as another globe came in from below. He reached out, connecting to this new one without thinking about it and his Tol pulsed noticeably when he made his connection.

There was an almost audible click as the glowing sphere thudded to the ground beside him, and it was only then that he realized this globe was different. And his realization lasted a split-second more before the globe-made-solid suddenly sucked in his Tol and burst apart, sending dirt and pebbles spraying in every direction. There was a small BAM accompanying the destruction of the globe, followed shortly thereafter by a searing pain in his temples that diminished into a pounding headache while dirt pattered all around.

The silence was profound.

“Yes, Tomilanthus. Two hundred years. And I do believe within that time frame you might possibly learn to pay attention to what you are doing with your Tol.” Ari sighed.

“Saress? A potion please. I think we’re done here for today,” she said, reaching out while Tommy gripped his head.

Heading South

Day 218 – We left today for Brookside. Da’ says we’re back to training, and the new people are …

Donnor and Halbaad clasped hands before the southern edge of the village, the troop lined up behind them and ready to go.

“Safe journey, Commander.”

“You be safe, as well.”

“Remember, Brookside be only two days south of here. The trail is narrow but shouldn’t pose you any problems until you come to the brook itself. There’s no bridge, and the water runs swift.”

“You’d said.”

“Aye, I did.”

“We’ll be fine. Or as fine as we can be. Did Jan leave with the reports?”

“Not yet, tide’s not right. She said she’ll be leavin’ this afternoon.”

“That’s fine. Remember, Moran and Oldsby have about thirty men in Resthaven if you need them. They’re only conscripts, but most of them have seen battle. So, they have some experience along with them being well equipped.

“I’ll remember.”

“And if the ondilaan come again, don’t wait to send word. If they come from down south, worry.”

“Aye. That’s the way yer’ going.”

“Got it in one.”

They stared at each other. Nothing left to be said.

“Well, I guess that’s it then, Halbaad. Be safe.”

“You as well,” Halbaad replied as Donnor turned and walked away.

The newest members of the troop were standing awkwardly in line behind the veterans, most of them holding weapons that had been taken from the ondilaan. They stood out in their plain clothes, not having armor like the rest of them, but they had joined gamely enough and were ready to take the fight back to the invaders.

Donnor had been eloquent though brutally honest with the new recruits, saying they were all volunteers under orders to take the fight to the ondilaan. That they were headed south, and would check on every village if they were able, to make sure they were safe. And that the troop was actively looking for a fight, and wouldn’t avoid one if they could. That they would be gone a long time, likely weeks or even months, and wouldn’t be back this way until their job was done.

A few of the volunteers were taken aback by this, but not one of them backed out. Then Donnor took them on a run, a long, long, run, before coming back to the Shoal dripping in sweat. Everyone who had accompanied him made it back, so everyone was accepted. They’d spent one last night in the village, some of them with their remaining families before falling in with the troop this morning. And as they joined in with the ranks, it was obvious by their expressions that some of them were only now realizing what they were in for.

“TROOP! Face to the right, MOVE!” Donnor ordered as he rejoined the ranks. “Mikus? Keris? Take us out. TROOP! At a walk, WALK! Saress? SCOUTS OUT!”

Halbaad watched as the troop followed Donnor’s commands, slowly marching away. He caught sight of a yellow-haired teen running along with the scouts, surprised by how young she looked. He wondered what her story was as the troop dwindled into the distance, the animals following along behind, the family of sprites at their side.

“Brings back memories, don’t it?”

“Yeah, sure does, Torin.”

“Think they’ll be back?”

“Dunno. But I’m likin’ their chances. Their commander seems to know what he’s about.”

“Aye, there is that. What now?”

“Back to normal. And get Jan moving. I know she said the tide’s wrong, but you know how she is. She’s probably got too far into her bottle last night.”

***

Tommy looked around as they got back on the road, strangely happy to be traveling again. He missed Petal, having gotten used to having her around, but saw her every now and then in the distance. She’d been paired up with her new partner, Ty, one of the halflings under Laren. In any event, Dap had taken her place. And the quiet chittering of the sprites was something new to take his mind off her.

“What are they saying, Dap?” Tommy asked.

“They call out what they see. Your father is not the only one who practices this. The sprites do so as well whenever we travel or camp.”

“I never heard them on the way here.”

“That’s because you probably thought it was an animal. Our speech sounds very similar.”

“It does. I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t know if it would be rude.”

“Well done, Tomilanthus. That shows maturity on your part,” Ari said.

Dap nodded. “It does. But we know that sprite speak sounds like animals to the other races. Some say it’s that way on purpose.”

“Is it?” Tommy asked.

“I certainly don’t know, but my family moved from the deep forests ages ago. We took to the forest’s edge, interacting with the villages in my grandsires time. It’s been years since I met someone from the deep forest. And the old speech from the forest sounds more animal like than my family’s does at home.”

“The deep forest?”

“Yes. What we call where no villages are. Ahton’s ch’ten is from the deep forest. It’s actually surprising he made the journey.”

“How come?”

“Because he’s old.”

Their conversation was cut off as his da’ ordered the troop into a jog. They picked up their pace, a slow, ground-eating rhythm that continued for a quarter hour as was the custom of the troop.

Tonat moved the child to the artock, both clambering up on the platform with stunning agility before they set off. The child smiled, moving here and there around the platform as she gazed about in every direction. The troop eventually returned to walk, Tonat climbing down and emitting a whistling chitter that eventually chased the girl off its back.

“Are you worried that Ahton can’t keep up?” Tommy asked.

“No. Not really. It’s just that it’s time for his binding,” Dap replied.

“His binding?” Tommy asked, looking at Ari, remembering her saying she’d been bound.

“Not the same kind of binding, Tomilanthus. The sprites bind themselves to a place when they age,” she explained. “I believe you call it ‘rooting’, right Dap?”

“Yes, Lady. We spread our roots as we age, feeding the branches of our family for the next season.”

“Rooting? Are you part tree?”

Dap laughed, then chittered to the other sprites who started laughing as well. Ahton looked on Tommy and shook his head before saying something that cause the sprites to laugh even more.

“What?”

“He asks if he looks like a tree.”

“Well, no.”

“Because he isn’t one, Tomilanthus.” Ari waved towards the chuckling sprites and they turned back to watching around. There were still a few periodic whistles and chuckles every now and then, though. “Sorry, you touched on something the sprites find funny.”

“What’s that?”

“They used to be thought part tree. They kept this rumor going for thousands of years. People still think they bind themselves to trees for some reason.”

“You are well learned, Lady,” Dap said.

“We studied about it in college when I was young. Then I asked for a sprite tutor who taught me more, along with some sprite speak as well.”

“Be wary of using it, Lady, you are not very good. Though they appreciated you trying.”

“It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“Umm …”

Ari sighed. “That bad?”

Dap just looked at her before turning to Tommy. “Anyway, when sprites age we bind ourselves to the land. This isn’t anything mystical or magical, but we tend not to wander far from where we root.”

“How come?”

“We can kind of sense the land, the older we get.”

“Really?” Tommy asked, imagining many things.

“It’s nothing to be excited about. It is the dimmest sensation, similar to how you know the sun has risen when you are inside. Or how you know who’s going to walk through a door before they appear. It happens, though it happens rarely, and never when you wish it. For most, we never experience anything at all.”

“Well, that’s disappointing. What’s the point then?”

“When it happens, our sense of the land is never wrong.”

The troop halted, his da’ ordering first rank to train while the rest took up station on guard. Those with Tommy moved towards the training as Mikus started ordering his rank into formation. It sounded like he was going to be practicing curving the line like Mr. Garr had suggested, and he was making sure everyone could hear him while he described how the ondilaan had tried to get around them back at the Shoal. The sprites turned to guard back the way they came, looking out as they chittered among themselves.

“What use is it?”

“Well, until you settle in an area, not much. We all have some sense of it to a greater or lesser degree. For instance, that plant over there? The one with shiny leaves? I can tell it will make you throw up if you eat it when I concentrate on it, but the one right next to it with the purple stem? No clue.

“If I didn’t already know what those plants were, it’d be a great help. But since I grew up around the Serensea, it really doesn’t help very much; I already know what most of the plants are. In the deep forest, it would be of greater use.”

“How so?”

“Well, an elder who laid down his roots would be able to tell a lot about things in a given area, dangerous things as well. It would depend on how sensitive he or she was, but it would be a great boon to any ch’ten in the area.”

“How far can they tell?”

“How far? Only what they can see; It’s not like we can see through stone. But if you mean how far does their rooting extend? It differs from one elder to the next, but usually covers the area where their ch’ten live and range.”

“Wow. So, if you came across a hole in the ground, you could tell what kind of animal dug it and then something about them?”

“No. Plants, Tommy. Only plants.”

“Huh. That’s still magical.”

“The elves thought so, too,” Ari said, watching a bird circling high overhead, “for many millennia. We still work with the sprites of Spritehome to see and experiment. But in all of recorded history, we’ve not found a single sprite to have Tol.”

“None?”

“No. Not a single one, and that’s unusual in itself. I remember my tutor telling me that some of their elders could hold a plant and list everything about it, never having seen it before. Some, near Sirikii, were able to predict blights and other issues within the forest. But not one single elder ever had a glimmer of Tol. It was a mystery, and still is.”

“That elder must have been near their end to be that sensitive,” Dap remarked.

“Huh?” Tommy questioned.

“We get more sensitive as we age. And after we root, our sensitivity increases at a much faster rate. When we die, it is our practice to bury the elder wherever they laid their roots, to return to the land all that they took. The ones from the deep forest have a ceremony to accompany it, but I’ve never seen it. Anymore, we bury our dead like the human’s do.”

They continued to watch Mikus’s rank train, time slowly passing as the wind picked up. His da’ eventually ordered the troop to get going, reforming the ranks before hiding evidence of where they’d been. The sprites looked on and then started chittering to Dap, a long conversation ensuing before Dap eventually turned to Arisaylia.

“Lady, the ch’ten offers to hide the trail. Ahton says that though you do a good job, a better one can be done. He offers to do this as they walk behind.”

“If they want to do that then I won’t stand in their way. I’ll need to get Donnor’s final permission, but I don’t see why it would be an issue. I accept on his behalf.”

“Thank you, Lady,” Dap said, turning to the sprites.

“Tommy, run off and tell your father. Let him and Saress know of the sprites offer and my acceptance.”

“Aye, ma’am.” Tommy jogged up the line, passing the new members as he went. He was greeted by a scattering of ‘Hey’s’ and ‘Oi, Tommy’s’ sounding here and there as he passed. The veterans of the troop craning their necks back to look behind, wondering if anything was amiss with the animals.

“Hiya, Tommy. Everything okay back there?” His da’ asked as Tommy arrived at his side.

“Aye, Da’. Ari sent me to let you know the sprites offered to cover our tracks as we go. They said they can do a better job.”

His da’ raised his eyebrows, then looked back over his shoulder before craning his neck to look around the troop. Finding whatever he was looking for he raised his hand, gesturing for someone to report to him. Shortly thereafter Saress arrived, dropping her hood while she approached.

“Yes, Donnor?”

“Tommy here says the sprites are offering to cover our tracks. Can they do a better job?”

“Definitely. The ch’ten is from the wilds; they learn what I know as babes. The J’al’osil take our learning from them as it is.”

“Good to know. Is Ari waiting on my permission, Tommy?”

“No. She already accepted. She just wanted to make sure you approved.”

“She would know this too, Donnor,” Saress explained.

“Right. Tommy, I’m fine with this. Make sure Ari knows and pass on a thank you to the ch’ten for me. But before you go, you might as well learn what’s going on. It’s about time for Saress to make her report, anyway.”

“Yes, Donnor. Petal is fitting in well and has a keen eye. I’ve deployed three pairs of archers forward along the trail with a pair shadowing along each side of our advance. Think of them like an arrowhead surrounding the troop, Tommy, with the troop being the shaft of the arrow,” she explained, glancing his way.

“So far, we’ve encountered no direct sign of the ondilaan. But there are two wisps of smoke to the south and west. They could be small fires, or large ones that are almost burnt out, but there is no way to tell. We may arrive at their source this evening, but definitely by sometime tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent. From what Keris tells me, one of the new men is from Brookside. We should be passing a settlement this afternoon that he stayed at on his way to the Shoal. There were people there then, and I’m hoping there still are now. Maybe they can tell us something about the fires. Anything else?”

“No.”

“Good. Beyond the offer, anything new going on back there?”

“No. Learning about the sprites, is all.”

“Learn what you can. The ch’ten has every sign of being from far from any settlement,” Donor said. “Anything you learn about nature from them, consider a gift.”

“They say they root when they get old.”

“Yep. From what I understand they almost bond to the earth.”

“Yeah. Apparently, they can tell things about plants.”

“Yeah?”

“Dap says they can sense things, but it doesn’t sound like it’s like magic. More like an intuition.”

“Much more than an intuition, Tommy, and I think Dap might be talking the ability down quite a bit,” his da’ said.

“How’s that?”

“Well, what’s one thing you know about the sprites? That everyone knows? Something we’ve already encountered ... You, me, Mikus, Saress, and Ari?”

Tommy thought about it, not understanding until he remembered Sergeant Moran. “They use poison?”

“Yep. They use poison. You also saw that when we rescued the ch’ten from the loft. Where do you think they got that poison?”

“Dunno, Da’.”

“Neither do I. But I bet you Ahton made it. And I’ll bet you he made it from some plant right near the loft.”

“It would be wise not to take that bet, Tomilanthus,” Saress said, while raising her hood. “The sprites are not very big, nor are they physically intimidating, but they are wise in the ways of the land. I would defer to anything they said about the deep wilderness. Our rear is well protected from anyone foolish enough to approach, unannounced, or unwelcome.”

“What she said,” his da’ said, hooking his thumb her way as she trotted off.

“I didn’t know that.”

“Not many do. And I’m pretty sure the sprites like it that way. Makes them seem all cute and cuddly until you wake up dead.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. Not for any reason I can see. Everything points towards them being totally focused on protecting Ari for some reason. And I’m not going to complain. They’re welcome as long as they want to stay and their presence here is a gift. Even Saress has accepted them guarding your mother, and you know how she is. I haven’t had to worry once since they’ve been with us.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment, studying his da’. “It’s weird to hear you say that.”

“Say what?”

“That Ari’s ‘your mother’. It’s just weird. Do you ever think we’ll find Mum?”

“Yella? It’s always possible, Tommy. You know your mum; always in the forest, had good skills, knew her way around, but I’m not sure. With as silent the ondilaan have been … I’m just not sure. We talked about this, that mum might be dead, and about Ari, too. Is it bothering you? How close Ari and I are becoming?”

“No, not really. But a little.” Tommy glanced at him. “It’s just weird losing one mother then gaining another basically on the same day.”

“Too fast?”

“Too much to wrap my head around.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Tommy shrugged. “It’s good to see you happy, Da’, it’s just weird. I dreamt about her just the other day, mum that is. When Ari was waking me up.”

“Good dream?”

“Just a dream.”

Donnor eyed his son. “I’m here if you need to talk about it, son.”

“I know, Da’. And I know Ari is, too. It’s just weird.” He looked around, catching sight of a hawk or something floating high above, then noticed a wisp of smoke in the distance. “The fires?” he asked, pointing their way.

“Don’t know. I can’t see it yet, it’s too far away. Doesn’t surprise me you can. You, Saress, Ari, and the sprites.”

“Being half elven?”

“Yep. Being half elven.” Donnor put one arm around him, giving him a quick, one-handed hug. “I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.”

“I love you, boy. Now get back there and pass on what we said.”

“Aye, Da’.”

Donnor watched his son go before turning back and walking the line. He was trying everything he could to keep things ‘right’ within his family, but that family now included Arisaylia. And no matter how much he wanted to be done and declare himself for his ilari lover, every day they walked closer and closer to where Lakeside had been. Closer, and closer to finding his wife, Yella.

Where are you, Yella?

He glanced over his shoulder to where the animals were. He could point with one finger to where Arisaylia was, no doubt in his mind even though he couldn’t see her at all. And he knew she was in a good mood, though … bored? … if he concentrated on it. These insights were getting easier to make the longer they were together, to the point that they didn’t even stick out to him anymore. He just accepted them. And it felt … nice.

What’s happening to me? crossed his mind as he too caught sight of the hawk his son had been looking at. It was hard to see that high up, shimmering in the midmorning light as his thoughts turned towards his ilari and the love they shared.

Many hours passed as the troop continued its journey south. They continued their custom of walking and jogging, every now and then pausing to train. Both ranks practiced curving the line, and the new men were spread evenly throughout the ranks between the veterans. They never did pass another settlement before they stopped for the night, Saress finding another place with a small spring before the sun began to set. And Donnor ordered the troop to set up camp at its side, walking amongst the men, making sure everyone was healthy and all right.

They’d stopped in the open this time, the groves of trees they normally camped in being sparse in this section of the world. Their immediate surroundings were more brush-filled meadow than not. The sprites helped them find dry wood so their fires produced as little smoke as possible. And while they did that, he set the new men to train. Mikus was harassing one of the newcomers when Ari walked up.

“You seem tense,” she said in a manner of greeting.

“A bit. Something Tommy said made me think.” Donnor put his arm around her, Ari placing her back against his chest while pulling his other arm around her in the process.

“What was that?” She leaned her weight into him, the crown of her head beneath his nose.

“That it was weird when I called you his mother.” Her hair always smelled of light and life to his senses.

“Is he still uncomfortable with that?” She tried to step away but he stopped her in his arms.

“Some. But I think it’s just a matter of time.”

“Donnor, I’m an elf, and as far as we know you age so slowly you could be one yourself. We have over a hundred years before Tommy even gets close to being old, two hundred if what I remember from college is correct. If I need to slow down for Tommy’s sake, I’ll slow down.”

“I know you will. The problem is I like it.”

“I know you do. Just as I know you spent all afternoon worrying about it.”

“How’s that?”

“The same way you probably know I’m bored to tears. Life, these meadows and grasslands are boring. What I’d give for some trees.”

“Huh?”

“A tree. You know, those tall things with bark around them. They have leaves, I’m told.”

“Not that. How did you know I knew you were bored?”

She craned her neck to look back at him, before turning to watch the men. “The bond, Donnor. Our bond.”

“The bond?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember,” she said, irritation entering her voice. “You know, this ilari thing we keep talking about? I don’t call you that for my health, you know.”

Yup. Definitely annoyed. “Not that,” he said rubbing her shoulders. “But beyond exchanging our vows, I don’t remember any mention of a bond.”

“That’s because there wasn’t one.”

“Then how would I know?”

She giggled. “Stop making sense.”

“Yes, Lady Saliantrea.”

“Dolt.” She put his arms back around her, wiggling back in. “The ritual mentioned we were forming an ilari bond when we promised for one another. I wish I still had the text with me, but they took it from me when I was escorted from the college. I didn’t think anything about it until I came to Lakeside and noticed the change.”

“Yeah. I did too. I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

“Hmmmm. That’s a nice thing to say to a girl.”

“Not so much from a married man. Been so for a while, you know.”

“And I’m betrothed. Had a daughter to another man.”

He smiled, inhaling her scent. “That drives me a nuts, you know. Even knowing you have, I utterly don’t care.”

“And I’m the same. Happy knowing you could be happy, for all those years.”

“Were you really happy?”

“No.” She sighed. “Alaris is a good man, and he’s an asset to his family, but was I truly happy? No. I could never forget you, Donnor. Or Tommy.”

“Neither was I, and it drove Yella mad. She eventually banished all mention of you and the Vale from the house. When it would get bad, Mikey and I would head off into the woods with a bottle. He’d get me drunk, then drop me off the next morning.”

“I was kept cloistered on the estate until I figured out that I’d remain there until all mention of you was gone,” Ari said. “It took years before I was allowed off the family grounds. Tommy was around five when I was first allowed off.”

Donnor shifted his weight. “I want to be angry, but I can’t.”

“I know, I can feel it.”

“How can you feel that?”

“Donnor, concentrate on me and tell me what you feel.”

He did so, her smell surrounding him, his skin tingling with her in his arms. He kept watching out over the men as he held her, Mikus continuing the drill while Keris helped him, both ranks curving their lines as one. He felt something, something deep inside that he could almost touch. He couldn’t tell what it was, it was just out of reach, but he could tell one thing: that she loved him.

“All I can feel is that you love me.”

“That’s true. Took you long enough,” she teased. “That’s the bond, our ilari bond, and I’m sending it all my love for you.”

“How’s that work?”

“I don’t know. It just does.”

“That’s weird.”

“Now you sound like Tommy.”

“Heh. I guess I could do worse.”

“Yes, you could.”

“So, what do we do about it?”

“Nothing, Ilari. Nothing at all.”

“Not curious?”

“Sure, I’m curious. But any exploration of the bond will take time, time and privacy. And I don’t think that’s something we have.”

“Time and privacy, huh? Trying to make Tommy feel even more uncomfortable?”

“Idiot,” she said, craning her neck back to smile.

“Hey, Da’!”

“Yeah, Tommy?”

“The sprites took one look at what we were eating and said ‘No’. Tonat apparently put her foot down, and Dap’s laughing. She took over cooking a bit ago, and dinner’s almost ready. You two coming?”

“Be right there. After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, fine sir.”

Donnor placed his hand in the small of her back as they walked towards the rest of the troop. “Time and privacy, huh?”

“Mm-hmm.” A twinkle entering her eye.

“I think I can arrange that.”

“Good.”

A Surprise at the Ford

Day 219 – We’re supposed to get to Brookside today, and I think it might storm …

They awoke the next morning, rising to a cool breeze along the ground from the west. The west wind was steady, but every now and then a strong gust from the east pushed their cloaks open. The push and pull of the wind made everyone cold, and even the fires didn’t add much heat. Tommy eyed the sky warily, looking for clouds since it was soon the time of the year for storms across the ‘sea.

Changing what was normally done his da’ ordered a hot meal for breakfast, and the fires were built back up while water heated in the communal pot. Tonat chittered to her family, and two of them returned a short while later with various plants and herbs she added to the pot to make a tasty stew. Everyone ate and thanked her profusely while she smiled and looked well pleased with herself.

Tommy took the time to write in his book, and after breakfast they packed up, helping the sprites hide evidence of their camp as best they could. It involved a lot of laughter and hand gestures to get past the language barrier, but everyone had fun with it. And a short time later, they were on their way.

The hot meal certainly helped as they continued south along the trail, every strong gust of wind sending a chill down their necks. More than one person wrapped their cloaks about them since there were no trees on the meadowed plain to provide any cover. And the breeze kept the leather stiff, too, the whole troop sounding like a creaking old chair as they moved.

It was a couple of hours into the march when they came across the settlement they thought they’d reach the day before. It was an interesting structure, arranged in a way Tommy had never seen. It was a house and a barn with some outbuildings, but they were all interconnected forming a rough circle, with everything facing in. And there was only one gate, just wide enough for a wagon to go through. They halted outside while his da’ called out, but didn’t receive an answer, so he sent second rank inside to explore.

Meanwhile, the scouts and first rank encircled the settlement, looking around and periodically calling out to see if anyone was there. Saress came back after a while saying they’d found signs of people leaving through the fields, but no signs of the ondilaan. Then Keris came out, saying it looked like everyone had left. There was an upper room to the house with a tremendous view all around, but he hadn’t seen a thing. Whoever had lived there had tidied up before they’d gone, and Keris reported there were no signs of a struggle or damage he could see.

His da’ ordered the place stripped for supplies. He didn’t look very comfortable ordering that, and neither did a few of the men, but they followed his orders gamely enough. They ended up finding the barrel for water they’d been looking for, along with an entire smokehouse full of dried meat. And after raiding most of the kitchen for roots and herbs they easily increased their supplies, adding almost four more days’ worth of food. Though the artock now looked like it was carrying a castle on its back; the platform stacked high with various things. It was a shame there wasn’t a wagon, his da’ said, only a few hand carts to be found that were all too small to really bother with taking along.

Then his da’ called everyone back into formation, pausing to write a letter he fixed to the door with a knife before they moved off. Tommy was glad they’d left and didn’t stay through lunch, though a couple of the people in the ranks were grumbling about that. It just didn’t feel right sitting in someone else’s house and eating their food like it was their own. Besides, they’d eaten a ration while they were gathering supplies.

Walking through lunch past the farm’s fields, they continued on through the meadows with very little in sight. There were some specks high up in the sky riding the wind, but down near the ground nothing was moving about. It was like everything was avoiding the wind, staying as warm as they could. The correts looked especially annoyed by the cold, tucking their heads under their wings every time the troop stopped.

It was sometime in midafternoon when one of the forward pairs of archers came running back from a line of trees in the distance. The troop halted quickly, Saress joining Donnor at the front of the line, then Mikus and Keris joined them as well, before Donnor waved for Tommy and Ari to come to the front also. The conversation was tense as Tommy got close enough to hear.

“… fifty of them? You’re sure?”

“Aye, Commander. They’re lying about, not far into the trees. If one of them wasn’t snoring, I’d have never known it was there. I can hear running water in there as well. It’s blind luck they’re asleep.”

“Ilari, what’s going on?”

“We lucked out. Lari and Rast here are our forward pair. They stumbled across a pack of ondilaan in the trees, and got out before they saw them. Apparently, they’re all asleep. My guess is they’re camped along the stream Brookside is named for, and I wouldn’t be too surprised if the ford was in there with them.”

“Aye, makes sense. Water, cover, an’ shelter from tha’ blasted wind.”

“Don’t know why they wouldn’t have a watch out though.”

“Does it matter?” Ari asked.

“Guess not. It just seems too easy. Anyway, I’ll take it. Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Form the men into ranks facing the woodline ... quietly. Get Laren and Immer, and get them back here in place along the flanks. Ari, get Alarat and Camm to close the animals up on the back of the troop, then tell Dap what’s going on and get the sprites up on that platform ready to shoot out over our heads.

“When we’re formed up, I’ll lead us out at a walk. I won’t be calling out commands until the battle starts, so pay attention. I don’t want to wake up the ondilaan. When we get to the trees, do what you can to stay in formation.

“But Ari, you follow the trail. Stay behind us and do whatever you need to with your magic. When it comes to that, you know best.

“Any questions?”

A variety of ‘no’s’ sounded, and they all turned away to follow his orders. Mikus and Keris started shooing the men into formation, doing their best to spread the veterans evenly throughout the ranks. Meanwhile, pairs of archers trotted in, moving behind and to the sides of first and second rank, looking intently towards the treeline. Tommy told Alarat and Camm what was going on, and they got the animals moving forward while Ari talked to Dap.

“… so they can shoot over everyone’s heads.”

“Yes, Lady. It shall be done,” Dap replied, saluting fist to chest before chittering towards the ch’ten. Tonat was the first up on the back of the artock, burying the child between bags as she pulled out a bow and some arrows, planting herself firmly over the girl. Ahton and the rest of the sprites clambered up as well, the correts craning their serpentine necks to watch them as they went. Then the correts turned their red eyes on the woodline, seeming to understand that something was coming.

The troop advanced quietly, even to Tommy’s ears, walking slowly forward in formation. He could hear Mikus and Keris talking softly between the gusts, passing orders down the line of men. They both seemed relaxed, his da’ did, too, but he could tell his da’ was uneasy.

As they got closer, anticipation grew. Fear and anxiety started spreading through the ranks, especially in some of the newer men clustered at the far end. They started glancing over their shoulders towards the veterans in the ranks, so his da’ had Keris break ranks and move to the far end to take up station there. This seemed to calm the new men down, Keris echoing his da’s commands and keeping them in formation while they advanced.

The tension slowly grew. The wood was a grove of trees like any other; a mix of leafy trees and evergreens with a variety of plants and shrubs scattered here and there in the mix. One bush stood out from the rest, a winding thing of coarse, thick branches, and shining reddish-orange leaves that were the color of sunset itself. It was a splash of color amongst the otherwise bucolic scene, and Tommy hoped the reds weren’t a sign of what was about to come.

“Place a hand on me, Tomilanthus. We may need to use our Tol for more than healing. I don’t like taking life, but in this instance, it will be easier than if we do not.”

“What can I do?”

“Nothing. You are definitely not ready for this. You have nowhere near the control, but I can still use your Tol before my own. Be ready. Combat by Tol is shocking, like nothing you have experienced.”

Tommy glanced warily at her but took up his normal station, placing one hand on her shoulder. It was awkward, almost having to hug her with one arm while walking beside her. She glanced at him and pursed her lips but said nothing, returning her gaze to the woodline in front of them.

The faint smell of the ondilaan permeated the air, becoming stronger the closer they got to the trees. Now only a few strides away, Tommy looked down the trail and into the grove, the sound of running water heard faintly before them. The tension was high, infecting the ranks as they made their last steps before the treeline. The gusting wind providing a chaotic shushing through the trees, and just as they advanced across the border, someone stepped on a branch. The loud snap shattered the silence and alerted the ondilaan within.

A startled whooOOP sounded right in front of them, then another from off to their right. A panicked cascade of HEHEHEs flooded the wood as his da’ called out. “TROOP! TO ARMS! ENEMY TO THE FRONT! ARCHERS! FIRE AS YOU BEAR!”

“Keep going! Keep going, damn ye’!” Mikus shouted, continuing to advance as the first ondilaan charged into sight. It howled its fury as it ran, desperately trying to reach their lines, another running right behind it. Then Tommy heard a twang from behind him before an arrow appeared in its neck, the warrior stumbling, never once having gotten close.

“GOT SOME ON THE LEFT!” Keris shouted, sounds of combat coming from that way. Laren commanded his group to fire, a staggered T-T-T-T-TWACK of arrows lancing in. Then there was a scream, followed by a celebratory whooOOP in reply.

The troop continued its advance, bowing the line as they’d been taught. The path ahead was clear, not a single enemy on it. The men in front of Tommy were looking nervously left and right as the sounds of combat sounded from deeper within the trees. The sprites behind and above him fired from the back of the artock, at what only they could see, and the snarls and screams continued along with varied shouts before his da’ called out once more.

“TROOP! HALT! LET THEM COME! WATCH THE CENTER!”

The ranks halted, his da’ out of sight somewhere on his right. The sounds of combat increased their pace, Tommy able to see a warrior on his left being brought down and stabbed from multiple angles by members of the troop. Then the pace of the ondilaan’s attack slowed, some of them backing away, yipping and growling nervously as they did so.

“DON’T LET THEM BREAK CONTACT! TROOP! ADVANCE AT A WALK! WALK! IMMER! WATCH YOUR FLANK!”

The line began moving again, the ondilaan snarling as the ranks approached with their spears ready before them. Tommy could hear sounds of splashing water increasing the further they moved into the trees. Nalin was screaming defiantly into the enemy from somewhere off to the left, and Mikus was beginning to chant, the other dwarves joining in.

WHOOOOP! came directly in front of Tommy, the first ondilaan he clearly saw climbing into view. It was a huge female, her multiple breasts hanging down limply in rows on her chest, one of them a grotesque mass of tissue and scars. She carried a long club with something sharp embedded in the far end, decorated with feathers and beads that clattered and swung as she jogged. A baleful growl split the forest as she appeared.

“GET THAT FEMALE! THEY’RE IN CHARGE!” Donnor cried as a host of snarling howls rose up out of the embankment behind her. Twanging bows sang out, arrows whistling through the air as the sprites fired her way. But the rest of the ondilaan with her ignored them, charging around the matriarch as she knocked an arrow out of the sky with her stick.

It was then that Ari’s draw began. A flashfire of need pulsed through Tommy as his Tol was called on and shaped into something hot before being flung out towards the ondilaan. A brilliant shaft of light split the air around him, racing with incredible speed into the ondilaan. It pierced one, then two, then a third one behind that before winking out and leaving all three warriors with holes burnt completely through their bodies. They fell in place, thumping to the ground as one.

The drain was incredible.

Ahton chittered and barked, Ari whipping her head towards him as he spoke. “DONNOR! They’re in the ford! They’re trying to cross!” Ari cried out, her voice a clarion call through the din.

“TROOP! ADVANCE TO THE BROOK! DON’T LET THEM CROSS!”

“MOVE DAMN YE!” Mikus yelled off to his right as Ari once more began her draw.

The warriors in front of them had paused, shocked as their brethren were blasted through, but they were coming full on now. The matriarch was howling, her guttural calls urging them on as they charged. The twanging of the sprite’s bows sounded rapidly behind him as Ari’s draw reached its crescendo once more, the next rod of light splitting the throng.

“DONNOR! THE LEFT IS CLEAR!” came Keris’s voice as another group of ondilaan thudded to the ground, holes blasted through their bodies. The drain was overwhelming; Tommy staggered as exhaustion took him watching more ondilaan moving to take their place. The ondilaani matriarch glared balefully before letting out a tremendous WHOOOOP! charging forward into the fray.

A man in front of Tommy went down, then another, dragged down by a snarling ondilaan doing everything it could to break their lines. Another group of warriors were charging in, halfway to the troop, but the people in front of him couldn’t see. They were battling for their lives, trying to keep the ondilaan from penetrating their lines any further. If the hole in first rank wasn’t closed soon, the ondilaan would break through.

Tommy rushed forward, pushing one of the new men into where first rank should be. He took his place behind him, stabbing out, helping bring the warrior down.

“Lock your shields! There’s another charge!” Tommy cried. And when the ondilaan were only a few steps away, he screamed, “BRACE!”

The ondilaan hit the line, all but bowling over the men in first rank. One of the new men went down, but Tommy and second rank were there.

Tommy cried “STRIKE” again and again, his voice going hoarse as he joined second rank fighting desperately to stop the charge.

“KEEP GOING! THE CENTER’S ALMOST THERE!” his da’ called out. But Tommy paid him no mind as he fought against his exhaustion to keep stabbing out at the enemy.

“Watch out, Ladig!” Tommy cried as the gnome went down, opening a hole in the wall of spears. The ondilaan rushed towards the opening, seeking to split the lines, but Ari’s voice calmly called out from behind.

“Oh no you do not!” she cried as a mage globe shot forward, slamming into the warrior in the hole before bursting upon its chest. A beautiful tinkling rang out, totally at odds with the sounds of combat. The warrior had a moment to look confused while bits of green and gold scattered about, and then a roaring inferno consumed him whole.

The heat from the fire was intense, beating upon those around them as if they were standing in a forge. But even so the troop fought on, continuing its advance, fighting step by step, until they stood at the banks of the ford. Then the troop came to a halt, a mass of ondilaan in the center of the flow still attempting to cross.

“SHOOT THEM! FIRE AT WILL!” Donnor cried. And the archers did their duty.

The arrows were merciless as the ondilaan struggled to cross or retreat, whichever they could; it didn’t matter. Slowed by the waters of the brook they were hobbled, easy targets for those who were firing down upon them. And as the last of the ondilaan in the water was pierced through, the bleeding matriarch stood on the opposite bank, obviously having survived her retreat across the water.

A snarl escaped her jaw, the noise full of threat and warning. Increasing in its ferocity, she howled her defiance with every bit of her being into the face of her tribe’s killers. It was an impressive display; drool slipping from her slavering maw while she flexed her arms, shaking her club at the troop.

Until a beam of golden light flashed out, neatly removing her head.

“It is done,” Ari’s voice came from behind Tommy while the matriarch’s body thumped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The rest of the ondilaan on the far bank scattered, yips of terror accompanying them as they retreated into the wood.

It was then that Tommy noticed how tired he was, and how much he hurt. He looked down, noticing a bleeding gash on his hand, and another one on his leg. Then he stared dumbly at a corpse slowly bobbing its way downstream.

“Mikus! Guard the ford. Keris! The wounded. Ari! Back off the line!” came his da’s rapid orders.

Tommy backed away, joining his mother as the artock was led into motion. Only now did he notice how it was lowing and stomping its feet, the platform swaying noticeably every time it moved. The correts were vibrating in place, their feathers puffed out in a display to make them seem bigger while they looked about, seemingly wanting to fight.

“Where did you go!” Ari demanded as he rejoined her.

“The line.”

“Don’t you ever leave me like that!”

“There was a hole in the line.” Tommy replied.

“I needed you here!” Ari looked like she was about to tear his head off.

“They were breaking through!”

“Enough!” his da’s voice broke through her anger. “Leaving you might have been wrong, but he did exactly the right thing.”

“What are you talking about,” Ari snapped.

“The matriarch was dueling with me over there. Mikus was in command of the right, Keris the left. I was supposed to be in the center, but there was no way for me to get there. He did exactly the right thing; stepping forward, taking command, and maintaining the line. And I won’t have you yelling at him for doing exactly what needed to be done.”

Ari was fuming, glaring at Donnor before spinning in place and stalking off towards the wounded.

Donnor watched her go, annoyed as well, fighting the battle lust that was still raging away inside him. He turned to Tommy. “Go. Go with her and do what you do. We’ll bring the rest of wounded to you in a moment.”

“Why’s she so mad?”

“You scared her; she’s afraid you’ll die,” his da’ said, pushing Tommy into motion before striding away.

Tommy could feel Ari’s anger from paces away, but he kept up his approach until he stood by her side. She was kneeling over one of the new men, hands glowing as she healed a gash in his thigh, utterly ignoring his pain. Tommy set his gear down, taking up his place behind her and placing his hand on her shoulder like he always did.

Her Tol was a maelstrom of anger. Flashing strikes of light strobed throughout her pathways as if they were caught in a storm. Her ire was great, but she reached out anyway, gently enveloping his Tol as she always did while using him to help heal the men. His exhaustion was profound, but they kept at it until everyone was healed, her anger draining away while they worked.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Tommy said after they were done. He was leaning against one of the artocks legs sipping from a waterskin, his head throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

“I am sorry, too.”

“You two patch things up?” His da’ asked, walking up with Saress.

“Yes.”

“Good. We don’t have time for that crap, there’s too much going on to be arguing amongst ourselves. Get yourselves sorted out. Saress stays with you.

“We’re setting up here for the night. With the ondilaan here, I don’t have much hope for Brookside, and I’m not going to try and find out in the dark. We’ve got about two hours of light left, so we gotta make camp here.

“Dap? Get the ch’ten in the treeline looking back the way we came. Mikus? Keris? Barricade this side of the ford. Drop a tree over it or something, I don’t care. Laren? Immer? Push out to the sides and watch the other bank. Make sure there’s nowhere else easy to cross.

“Somebody make a fire! And clean up those gods damned corpses! How many did we lose?” he demanded.

“Two, Ilari. Clean kills. Both were new men. There was nothing anyone could do. They did not suffer.”

“Damn it!” His da’ punched a tree. “They just joined!” he shouted, shaking his hand and looking to where they lay.

“The rest we got to in time. They should be healed by tomorrow.” Ari looked on in concern.

The sprites chittered watching his da’, Dap pausing to answer many questions. And after Dap stopped talking, Ahton dropped to the ground and walked over before standing in Donnor’s way. Placing one hand on Donnor’s chest, Ahton proceeded to speak to him in his tongue before nodding once, and then walking back the way they came. Then the rest of the ch’ten hopped down, nodding towards Donnor before following along after Ahton.

“What was that all about?”

“Ahton said it speaks well of you that you are angered by the loss of your men, and that you control your anger and think. You give good orders, you fight well, and your family fights well at your side. You are worthy of your mate, and he will follow you.”

Donnor looked back and forth between Dap and the sprites. “Thanks?” he called after them.

“Thanks are not needed, Commander. He acknowledges you as being equal to the Lady, a part of her whole. You have increased your standing in their eyes.”

“I always knew I could make something out of you, Donnor,” Ari quipped.

“Oh, shut up, princess.”

An Unwelcome Tale

Jan was not a happy fisherwoman.

Despite what that lout Halbaad wanted, she wasn’t going to sail her vessel whenever he wanted her to. Who cares if the reports to Redtail took a day longer to get there? They’d get there when they got there, and she’d hand them to that stupid, stuck-up elf of Maorilan’s, and be gone. Did she get anything out of it? Noooo. All she got was a thank you, a free meal at the Happy Cup, and that was it.

Having to spend a day at sea dealing with whining farmers who couldn’t take the rocking of her boat was not something she looked forward to. She’d lost her man to the sea and she’d dealt with it. The stupid farmers could suck it up and deal with it too. And she wasn’t going to head out to sea if the conditions weren’t right. That’s how she’d lost her man in the first place, and she wasn’t keen on dying to join him.

But even though she’d tried her best, even letting that lout Halbaad get her into a shouting match, she’d eventually caved and left the Shoal the day after those crazy people marched south. You wouldn’t find her marching towards the enemy. Gods, no. Only an idiot did something like that. And she was pretty sure she remembered raising a bottle towards their stupid backs while they walked away.

Hal yelled at her for that, too. Stupid jerk.

Leaving the Shoal in some of the strongest winds in days just to get away from her cousin, she headed out onto the Serensea. Her anger dwindled the further she got from the land, the ‘sea calming her as it always did. Her man’s memory teased her the longer she sailed, his voice and laughter singing to her in the waves. And so, she sailed all day, imagining she was closer to him the further she went. Stopping on a speck of an island when it was almost too dark to see, she raised a cup in his memory, then she rose with the sun, making it to Redtail with the annoying farmers sometime before lunch the next day.

The place had changed, she realized, as the idiot farmers got off her boat. She hadn’t been there in a little over a week, the last time being when she’d dropped off another group of refugees who thought they’d have a better chance with Maorilan than they did with Hal. She’d stopped for a drink up at the Cup that time, and heard that the lord was sending out a lot of his men, but that was it. Waiting there until that stuck-up elf showed up, he took her letters, handed her some more in return, offered her a bottle of imported wine, then wished her well on her journey back to the Shoal.

At least that creepy shadow of his hadn’t been with him that time. That damned hooded shadow of his never said a word, never once showed their face, always keeping it covered up by that stupid damned hood. She knew that damn shadow of his was stuck-up as well, but something always told her to keep her mouth shut about it whenever the shadow was around.

Stupid stuck-up elf.

Stupid shadow.

But this time, was she allowed to stay at the Cup? Noooo. The damn elf and his guard all but arrested her a couple drinks after she handed off her letters, hustling her up to the Hold itself. And now here she was, stuck in this damned room in the tower, no idea what was going on, completely sober, and unable to get a drink anywhere.

Damn Hal and his stupid letters.

The door opened behind her, and despite what she wanted to do, being her own woman, she rose expectantly.

A guardsman entered, fully armed. “Jan, of Varmen’s Shoal?”

“Aye?”

“Come with me. You are summoned before the lord.”

Jan choked and sputtered, the guard eventually coming in and taking her by the arm to lead her out through the door. “Hey! Watch it!” she shouted, before noticing another guard in the hall. He raised his eyebrows when she tried to fling off the hand of the one who led her. “I didn’t do nothin’!” she cried.

The guardsman banged his fist on his breastplate in a certain rhythm that echoed down the hall. “You are summoned before the lord. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Your choice.”

She fumed. Damn Hal and his stupid letters! But she calmed down after hearing multiple doors open, and a lot of feet coming her way. Four more guardsman turned the corner looking ready to fight, though their weapons were sheathed. They took up station around her and the two original guards, looking on expectantly.

“There a problem here?” one of the new guards asked, eyeing her up and down.

“Not sure. We’re figuring that out now.”

“Where you headin’?”

“She’s been summoned by Maorilan. Doesn’t seem to want to go.”

This triggered the rapt attention of all present, the men almost seeming to dare her to refuse her summons.

“We could always pick her up. Don’t seem too heavy.”

“Could. She’s not under arrest though.”

“Damn. Well, miss? We walking? Or are we carrying you?”

Jan was fuming. Damn Hal! Damn that elf! And damn these stupid guardsmen! No damned way some man was going to drag her anywhere. She didn’t trust herself to speak, waving one hand down the corridor and trying to burn the smiling guardsman alive with her eyes.

He smiled back, not affected in the least.

The rest filed in, two in front, four behind, climbing stair after stair until she had to be in the very highest reaches of the Hold. They stopped on a richly appointed floor before a door that was polished to within an inch of its life, being guarded by even more guardsmen standing smartly at attention on either side.

The guardsmen spoke, one of them disappearing through the door, then they all stood there in awkward silence while music softly drifted from beneath its frame. She was amusing herself by glaring at the guardsmen when the door opened once more.

An older woman appeared before them, her hair severely coifed in a bun atop her head. She wore an elegant dress, delicately embroidered in rich tones with fine thread. The woman took one look at her and pursed her lips before coming to some decision.

“Jan, of Varmen’s Shoal?”

“Aye?” she replied, trying to maintain her anger but curious despite herself.

“I am Tessa, head of staff for Lord Maorilan. You delivered the missives a short time ago?”

“Don’t be knowing what a missive is, but if you be meanin’ Hal’s damn letters, then, aye, that be me.”

Tessa winced with Jan’s swearing but kept gamely on. “You are being summoned before Lord Maorilan and another. The other is a prince of high rank and station who is acutely interested in your story. And he wants to hear what you have to say right now, without delay.”

“Well, fine. But why we be havin’ ta’ do it here? We could be doin’ it down at the Cup, which was where I was hours ago havin’ a drink!”

Tessa paled. “Gods be damned! Watch your tone! The prince will hear!”

“Hear? What do I care what he hears? Besides, who can hear a damn thing besides us, right here?”

“Because the prince is an elf, you idiot! He can hear every word you say right through this door!” Tessa whispered severely, glancing over her shoulder at the door in question. “He’s here with an army, and the reason he’s here is in your report! Now shut your damned mouth! Be polite! And answer his questions!”

Jan’s mouth hung open as the stupid hag glared at her, stunned she’d gotten angry enough to swear.

Tessa spun and snapped her fingers before rapping smartly on the door and opening it. The guard moved to Jan’s side, not quite grabbing ahold of her, but right ready to do so while Tessa announced them.

“Jan, of Varmen’s Shoal, Lord Maorilan.” Tessa glared over her shoulder before wiping the expression off her face. Then she walked stately forward, Jan and the guardsmen following along behind.

The room they entered was large with a few couches and chairs scattered about, upholstered in rich cloth. There were paintings on the wall and a bookcase. And there, off to the side, was a serving table with a selection of wines and cheeses from what Jan could see. Coming through an open door was the sound of music, a woman’s pretty voice scaling up and down along with the tune, some rich ditty that society people listened to.

Before her sat a whole host of people, all focused intently on her. And she didn’t like that, not one bit. She hadn’t been this uncomfortable since her mum had made her put on that stupid dress to marry her man. But where she had given her mum lip then, there was no way she was going to open her trap now.

Lord Maorilan sat slightly to the left of center, the thin golden circlet she’d seen on him at a feast years ago resting on his brow. He looked older than the last time she’d seen him, and he was watching her intently, his piercing grey eyes taking her in.

At his side was someone even more intimidating. There was an elf there on his left, her right, perched on his chair like a predator. He had blond hair so fine it drifted on a non-existent breeze, probably stirred up by her entering the room. And his shining blue eyes were fixated on her while she came to a halt before them, never once leaving her face.

The elf frightened her watching her like he was, just like a hawk to a hare. She couldn’t help herself; she shivered.

Tessa curtsied low before moving off against the wall. Then the guards banged their fists to their chests, saluting the lords. There was a long pause before one of the guards nudged her and whispered fiercely, “Show some respect, girl!” before Jan remembered to curtsey, embarrassed by how clumsy she was, never mind wearing pants. She kept her head down, her eyes lowered, determined not to say a word and feeling the elf’s eyes on her like the weight of the sea itself.

“Tessa, a stool for Jan. We may be here a while.”

“Yes, m’lord.”

“Jan, of Varmen’s Shoal?” Lord Maorilan asked.

Jan sneaked a peek through her eyelashes before looking quickly back down. She swore there were sparks coming out of that damned elf’s eyes. She hated it, but she had to admit; she squeaked. There was another long pause.

“Nessa Farlesdar? I believe Jan here is unused to the presence of one of your station. Should we move this to another venue?”

Jan studiously focused on the floor at her feet. No way was she looking up. Tessa sat something down behind her, discovering it was a stool when she was nudged to sit.

“No, Pawdrig, my interest is great.”

“I see. Could you perhaps not scare my villager? Or at least not scare her more? I don’t believe she can speak at the moment.”

“I shall try,” came the melodious reply. It felt as though a weight was lifted from her shoulders as the singer’s voice hit a new note, the harmony it created with the music trying desperately to lighten the tension in the room. It was only partially successful.

“Jan? You may raise your eyes. You are not under arrest, and are not in trouble. However, the reports you brought with you have created quite a stir, and we need a firsthand accounting of what you have seen. Do you understand?”

Jan raised her eyes, taking in her lord and the elf beside her. The elf’s eyes were still on her, as predatory as before. She worked her mouth, trying to say something, and another squeak came out.

“Tessa, something to fortify Jan here?”

“Yes, m’lord,” she replied, moving to the sideboard and the selection of wine there.

It was then that Jan noticed the others in the room. Standing at Lord Maorilan’s side was that knight of his, sword at his waist, arms crossed as he looked down at her. Tintafel was there as well, stupid elf, leaning up against the wall. At the elf lord’s right … What was his name? Far something? … was another male elf, standing in the same position and manner as Maorilan’s knight. And behind that one was a richly dressed elven woman, older, sitting on a small couch with two younger elves at her side.

Another elven man stood behind the sofa wearing strange robes, and he was watching her intently as something was placed in her hand. Every single person in the room was staring at her. She smelled wine and took a long, shaky, drink.

“Now then, you are Jan? From Varmen’s Shoal?” Maorilan asked.

“Y-yes, sir. Sire. Lord.”

“Any will do. And you brought the reports from Halbaad Garr this morning?”

“Aye, sir.”

“And were you present during the battle five days ago?”

“Uh, yeah. They fought there, they did.” The elf raised one delicate eyebrow. “Uh, sir. Sire.”

“And can you tell us about the battle?”

“Uh, sure. Sir. What ye be wantin’ ta’ know?”

“Why don’t you just tell us what you saw.”

“Ummm, okay?” Jan glanced around, everyone’s eyes still riveted on her. “Where do you want me to start, sir?” She shakily drained her glass.

“Wherever you will Jan. Tessa, some more wine for our messenger.” Tessa moved once again for the wine.

“Uhhh, sure. Sir. Ummm. The furry bastards … err, the ondilaan, sir, they be showin’ up a couple o’ days before the fight that night, hootin’ and hollerin’ they were, causin’ quite a ruckus. Lord.”

She took another drink from her cup, her hands still shaking as she did so. She couldn’t help herself; the damned elf’s eyes never once left her face, barely blinking. She focused in on Lord Maorilan to the exclusion of all else.

“Hal had us buildin’ shite … err … things Lord, between the houses fer’ a while, so the furry bas … uhhh, ondilaan, couldn’t get in. We sat pretty while they messed up the fields of those dumb bas … err, farmers, but they pretty much were jus’ makin’ noise.

“They be startin’ ta throw rocks and such when tha fightin’ men done showed up, bangin’ at wha’ we built, so ta’ speak. Hal was tellin’ us ta’ get ready fer’ them to try and leap wha’ we built when that soldier boy hollered out.”

“Soldier boy?” The elf questioned, his voice deceptively quiet as it split the room.

Jan ducked her head. “Uhhh, yeah. Ummm, sir. Lord. Prince. The soldier boy. That one in charge.”

“Continue, Jan,” Lord Maorilan said, glancing at the elf. “Tell us what occurred.”

“Ummm, the soldier boy be yellin’ and had a whole bunch a’ people wi’ him. The furry bastards … sorry, Lord … ondilaan, ran at ‘em and they had a big fight. An’ Hal led the old squad out, and they all killed them furry bastards good. Ondilaan … sorry, sir. Lord.”

Jan took another drink, emptying her cup once more. Lord Maorilan waved at Tessa who filled her cup with more wine. Tessa was glaring fiercely at her as she backed away, her expression hidden from the lords. Jan felt like a rabbit in a hole, and took another drink.

“Was there anything unusual during the battle, Jan?”

“Uhhh, no. They bled like they always do, sir.”

“Perhaps not in the fight itself?”

“Oh, aye. Yer’ talkin’ about that magic lady and her boy. Ain’t ye, sir?” There was a stir amongst the elves, and she felt the prince’s eyes bear down on her once more.

“Her boy?” the elf asked.

“Uhhh, aye? Her boy? That one she be teachin’, Lord? They magicked us up real good after the fight. Hands a glowin’, healin’ people left an’ right. Was a sight to see. She kept that lad of hers with her while she done it, too. Makin’ them crazy lights around them all the time.”

“Crazy lights?”

“Oh, aye. Ain’t seen nothin like it, never. She be makin’ crazy lights during the fight, glowin’ like a star she was. Then she an’ the boy be makin’ ‘em too when they be wakin’ up. Always poppin’ them lights back an’ forth between ‘em, sittin’ on their duff.”

“Can you describe her?”

Jan took another drink. “Oh, aye. Pretty lass, she be. Skinny-like, red hair, green eyes, dressed real nice-like all the time. Needs ta’ eat more, she do. An’ they be callin’ her ‘the Lady’, those that be comin’ wi’ her.”

“Did you catch her name?”

“Oh, aye. She be called Air-eee-sail-eee-ahh-somethin’. Be real firm about it, too. She be gettin’ real mad about all the ladyin’ goin’ on, ye see, yer’ lordship, sir.”

Jan took another drink, finally feeling the effects of all the wine. The buzz helped her relax, and as she did so she noticed the elves were in quite a tizzy. There were lots of glances going back and forth, whole conversations being said with their eyes.

“Any other names come to mind? Anyone stand out?”

“A’yup, Lord, sir. That soldier boy, he be Donnor. He say he be one o’ yer’ commanders, Lord, from way down there at Lakeside. An’ cousin Hal be sayin’ he be believin’ him, too. His boy be Tommy-something, right nice lad, good lookin’, an’ that bonny lass is always sayin’ his name funny-like. Then there be a dwarf and another man who be yellin’ all the time, makin them fools goin’ wi’ ‘em do this or that dumb thing, all damned day long.”

“Going with them?”

“Oh, aye. We’re packed full in the Shoal, we be. There be a ton who be wantin’ ta’ go home. A couple ‘o them be joinin’ the soldier boys, they be, an’ headin’ off down south. Damn fools. Hal says they be headin’ off to Brookside, they be.

“And how many?”

“Oh, gods, I no’ be countin’, yer’ lordship. I no’ be good wi’ me numbers, any a way. But they be leavin wi’ more than they be comin’ in wi’.”

“They do?”

“Oh, aye. That bonny lass be healin’ any an’ all. Even fixed me bum knee here, she did, hands a glowin’ all the time. Craziest thing I ever did see. But she can be workin’ on anyone she be wantin’ to, I say. Ain’t never heard of them magic people helpin’ us poor folk. An’ her man was helpin’ out too. Heck, he fished half the afternoon, he did, sharin’ his catch wi’ any an’ all.

“Her an’ her man be made fer’ each other,” Jan said with a smile, remembering, taking another drink. “Be flirtin’ wi’ each other the entire time, they are. Pretty together, too, them an’ their boy. They be makin’ a fine couple, probably soon ta’ marry if they ain’t already. Know what I mean?”

“That will be all, Jan,” Lord Maorilan quickly interjected. The silence on the elven side of the room was profound. “Is there anything else you wish to know, Nessa Farlesdar?”

The elf’s eyes bored into Jan, seemingly wanting to gut her like a fish. Her hands started shaking again as he studied her, his eyes fixated on hers. Only an idiot would miss that he was furious, and Jan was no idiot.

“Nessa Farlesdar?”

The elf blinked. “How did you arrive?” he asked with deceptive calm.

“Uhhh, by boat, sir, Prince, yer’ lordship. It be my man’s when he passed, an’ I been runnin’ it since. Do a good job, too. Sir. Lord.”

“And how many does it hold?”

“Just be me an’ the two boys when we be fishin’, yer’ lordship. But I been able to pack in an even dozen if they not be worryin’ about getting’ too cozy. Been bringin’ in those people who be runnin’ from them furry bastards to the Hold that a way.”

The elf fell silent, his eyes unfocusing as he descended into thought. One of the elven lasses was crying, the soldier boy behind her rubbing her back. The entire room was studiously not looking at the prince. The silence deepened and spread, for many long moments.

“Nessa Farlesdar, is there anything else?” Lord Maorilan was watching him closely, glad the light of his magic had left his eyes.

“No. Nothing.”

“Jan, you may go. Tessa, see she gets paid for her time. Something of note.”

“Yes, m’lord,” his head of staff said, gathering the boat captain to her feet.

“Jan?” Alaris softly called out, freezing Tessa and her in their tracks.

“Aye, my lordship, sir?”

“Do not leave. A party will be returning with you to Varmen’s Shoal. You will be well paid.”

Jan looked back and forth between him and Lord Maorilan, obviously not liking that announcement in the least.

Lord Maorilan watched Alaris for a moment, judging his mood. “Tessa, a room for Jan. And something to eat.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Tessa said, turning Jan forcefully away from the room.

Pawdrig caught one furious glance on Jan’s face before a few of the guards followed her and Tessa out of the room. Everyone heard Jan shouting “Whaddaya’ mean I can’t leave!” before the door closed, firmly shut by the singer who’d slipped out of the room behind them. And the shouting continued, diminishing slowly the further Jan was led away from the room.

“Alaris? A party to return?”

“Yes, Pawdrig. A party to accompany your villager there back to her village.”

“And the party’s intent?”

“To apprehend my wife.”

Lessons in Leadership

The troop remained at the entrance of the ford through the night, accompanied by the ondilaan’s stink. They’d dragged the corpses into one communal area before night fell, but none of them were burned after the bodies were stripped. The smell of the remains permeated the camp, despite the breeze.

The troop had been primed to be attacked through the night, but nothing came, and Tommy almost felt like he was back in Resthaven while standing guard overnight. He’d been exhausted, but did his duty, taking his turn until relieved. But at least it hadn’t been very long, Mikus and Keris ordering the shifts to only be a couple of hours each.

In the morning they broke camp. His da’, Mikus, and Keris deliberated about crossing the ford in an intense council. Apparently, it was a big deal; a huge risk knowing there were ondilaan still on the other side. In the end, second rank with their larger members crossed first, making their way warily across the stream while the archers stood watch. And after they set up on the far side, they stopped for the animals to cross next, then first rank following along behind.

It almost seemed silly since no one attacked them during the crossing, but the leaders remained tense. The members of the troop watched warily out, with Keris on the far bank pacing back and forth trying to look everywhere at once. Relief spread after the crossing was over, with scattered talk beginning as the men relaxed, but the leaders remained wary and quiet.

Saress ordered every one of her archers to scout down the trail, staggering how they left while the ranks reformed into their normal columns. Then Mikus and Keris led them off.

Their walk was short.

Brookside was only about a half an hour from the ford, hidden around a bend in the trees. Situated inland from the Serensea, it sat directly on the banks of the brook, upstream from where they’d just crossed. And burbling happily, the flowing water wound its way around the village center, marking its northern edge.

A series of rapids preceded a calm, deep pool right beside the village, before returning to rapids once more. Small dinghies were scattered here and there along the bank, and Tommy could imagine the villagers fishing and playing there. A fish jumped as he looked, and then another.

But none of the villagers would ever fish these life-filled waters again. The body of one of them was caught against the rapids that departed the pool, and then Tommy noticed another one off to the side. He studied the corpses in silence, the water lapping up onto them as the current continued its journey east towards the ‘sea. Then he looked at his waterskin, having filled it downstream last night.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Brookside had done its best to fortify the village, but it was nowhere near as much as Resthaven or the Shoal had accomplished. It showed. It looked like they had made simple fences, the kind like people used to keep their animals in. Simple posts had been pounded into the ground with green branches woven through; the branches stacked tightly one on top of the other, forming an almost woven wall.

It looked stronger than what was normally used in pastures, taller too, but it was still a paltry barrier to even the smallest ondilaan Tommy had ever seen. And the fences weren’t complete, wide gaps remaining between the houses. That was were where the ondilaan had gotten in; their tracks, scat, and stench concentrated in those areas. Why they had chosen to do things that way was beyond him, and Brookside had paid the price for their mistake.

Donnor halted the troop a short distance from the edge of the village in the trees, there being no fields here. He looked upon Brookside for a long moment and then sighed. Speaking to Mikus and Keris, he ordered the troop into the village, and then the leaders split the men up into pairs or threes, having them explore everywhere they could. It didn’t take long for the sounds of retching to be heard, and Tommy followed Camm around the corner of a cottage to see what remained of the villagers piled high in the center of the buildings.

Partially eaten.

“The lost gods be damned,” Keris quietly cursed. He stood there looking at the pile, seemingly having to force himself to take it all in.

“Keris? Keris! Turn away,” Ari called. “Don’t let it haunt you.”

“My family comes from here, Lady. It’s been many years, but I still have cousins down here … Had,” he trailed off as a tear tracked down one cheek.

“Oh, Keris.” Ari moved forward, wrapping him up in a hug.

Keris’s face firmed, the tears still coming as his face transitioned from harsh, to angry, then flat. “I have to know,” he announced. “Thank you, Lady Arisaylia, but I have to know.” He gently pushed her away and then started dragging bodies off the pile, looking at their faces one by one. A few of the others moved to join him.

Donnor placed a hand on Ari’s shoulder, shaking his head, and led her and Tommy away as the sad scene developed behind them. Tommy heard one of the men with Keris say, “Oh, my Bonny. Why did you stay?” before Tommy moved around the corner of another house, taking the weeping man from his sight.

“Leave him. This is not cruelty on my part, Ilari, he needs to see it with his own eyes. The rest of them do, too. Let him be. Let them mourn.”

“Nisa Saliantrea, Donnor is right,” Saress added quietly. “Let them be.”

Ari didn’t like it one bit, looking from Donnor back the way they came. But though her face displayed worry and heartache, she stayed at his side. Moving further into the village, his da’ continued to gently lead her further away from the mountain of grief. They found Mikus in the village center.

“Mikey?”

“Aye, Donnor.”

“Keris is down. He had family here. He’s checking the pile of bodies.”

“Oh, shite.”

“Yeah. Others are too. I’m not going to rush him, or them. So, we’re going to be here for a couple of hours.”

“Maker. This be no place ta’ be settin’ up camp. There be so many holes, it be like a warren o’ rats.”

“Oh, we’re not. Maybe till lunch at most.”

“Aye, tha’ be alright then. We found tha’ headman’s house. It be filled wi’ papers an’ books ta’ tha’ ceiling. Ye’ll be wantin’ ta’ go there. There be a big covered porch, too. We can be bringin’ anyone we’re findin’ there, but I no’ be thinkin’ we’re gonna’ find any.”

“I don’t think so, either. Set the watch, and stay to the village’s edge.”

“Aye. C’mon lad, ya’ get second rank.” Mikus said, looking Tommy in the eye.

“Me?”

“Aye, you. There somun’ invisible in front o’ ya’?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. C’mon. I canna’ be leadin’ everyone while yer’ da’ and Ari be readin’ wha’ we found.”

“Mikus? Tell Saress to get her archers out and concentrate on the western and southern approaches. I’ll get the ch’ten to guard our backs while you get Tommy set up.”

“Aye, Donnor,” Mikus said as he grabbed Tommy’s arm and dragged him away. They walked towards the water, finding Saress crouched on a rock near the stream. Situated as she was, her perch offered an excellent view across the water.

“Saress. Donnor be wantin’ ya’ ta’ get yer’ people south an’ west. Tommy here’s gonna’ be watchin’ Keris’s. Keris be at tha’ pile, said he be havin’ family here.” Saress closed her eyes and then nodded, dropping to the ground and trotting off. “Alright lad, let’s get with yer’ people.”

“Mr. Gemhands, what are you doing?”

“Puttin’ ya’ in charge.”

“Me? I’ve never been in charge of anything in my life!”

“Too bad. Ya’ take charge in a fight, ya’ get put in charge when there be no one else.”

“But what do I do?”

“If ya’ shaddup, I’ll be tellin’ ye.”

Tommy blinked as Mikus half glared at him, then turned away. “Well at least I don’ be needin’ ta’ teach ya’ tha’. Good. Point fer’ ya’.”

“Point?”

“I said, shaddup.”

Tommy shut up.

Mikus smirked. “Alright, yer’ knowin’ these people because ya’ been trainin’ wi’ ‘em every day. They be knowin’ ya’ too, and they be likin’ ya’ whether yer’ knowin’ it or no’. So, yer’ no’ gonna’ be havin’ issues wi’ these people no’ followin’ yer’ orders.

“We’re gonna’ be splittin’ up tha’ duty around this hole. We need ta’ be guardin’ where tha’ ondilaan may come, an’ we need ta’ keep searchin’ fer’ anything tha’ may be found. I be takin’ tha’ south, ya’ be gettin’ tha’ west, tha’ water watches our north, an’ yer’ da’ be gettin’ tha’ sprites ta’ be watchin’ back tha’ way we came.

“Ya’ remember yer’ patrol back in Resthaven?”

“Yes?”

“Yer’ doin’ tha’. But instead o’ standin’ watch, ya’ get ta’ be makin’ sure they be doin’ it, not you. Keep ‘em in pairs, keep ‘em moving, and keep ‘em lookin’ out.”

“How do I do that?”

“Yer’ a smart lad, figure it out. I’ll be givin’ ya’ a hint: ya’ canna’ be doin’ it sittin’ on yer’ duff.” And as Mikus finished speaking, they arrived at the first group of Keris’s men.

“Canner? Sollip? Keris be busy. Tommy here’s takin’ over.” The two men focused their attention on Tommy, eyeing him while Mikus continued to speak. “Take him around where yer’ at.

“Tommy, set a watch and a patrol. Don’t be havin’ anyone outside tha’ village, an’ keep ‘em alert. Two o’ yer’s need ta’ help wi’ searchin’, so send ‘em back ta’ yer’ da’. Then keep watch, an’ be singin’ out if yer’ seein’ anythin’.”

Tommy blinked, working his mouth while still catching up to the fact that he was now in charge. “O-okay?”

“Ya’ just messed up. One, don’ be soundin’ girly; makes tha’ men think ya’ no’ be knowin’ wha’ yer’ doin’. Two, ya’ no’ be askin’ where yer’ da’s gonna be, so I no’ be tellin’ ya’. Do better,” Mikus finished before he walked off.

Tommy could have sworn Mikus was grinning as he left, but he couldn’t be sure. He blinked at Canner and Sollip, then sighed, working his shoulders. “I guess I’m in charge.”

“Guess you are.”

“Guess I better see where everyone is.”

“Guess you should.”

He sighed. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The two took Tommy on a short tour of the western end of the village, pointing out where second rank was. Keris had twelve people after losing one of the new men at the ford; half were new, and half were veterans. And a couple of them were back at the pile, having come from Brookside in the first place.

The rest were in two groups standing a little apart from each other along the edge of the village. Some were leaning against the houses looking out, while the rest of them were looking through whatever they’d found. They looked bored; the veterans talking amongst themselves while the newcomers clustered together.

“Uhhh, okay. Mikus needs two people to head back to keep searching.”

Everyone looked up at Tommy and then went back to what they were doing.

“I don’t know what to search for. Anybody do any searching?”

“Aye, Tommy, I done some.” Haleran said, raising a hand. “Used to help the hunters, I did, back home.”

“All right, then you should probably go,” Tommy said, his eyes alighting on one of the newer men. He was standing with another newcomer, both looking nervous and uncomfortable. “What’s your name?”

“Jenus, Tommy.”

“Jenus, go with him.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, that leaves seven of us. Where’s the best places to look out?”

“We got a place here where the fences don’t go. Can walk right through there, half the rank, easy,” Gart said.

“That’s not good. Anywhere else?”

“Got a garden over there between the houses,” Larn called from a little bit away. “Nothin’ but a garden fence. It’s painted pretty, but it won’t stop a thing.”

“Nothing else?”

There was silence as everyone looked back and forth. Eventually, Martok spoke up. “That’s it, Tommy. The rest have those stick-woven fences blocking the way. They’re mostly waist high, but I dunno if they’d stop the ondilaan.”

“You’d know, you’ve fought them as much as I have. Ummm, we can’t have the big break unguarded. It’d be just like the shack back in Resthaven; they’d run straight through. Gart? You’re the biggest. Take the break in the fence. Take Haleran and … you? What’s your name?”

“Fan.”

“Take Fan, too.”

“Aye. Can I have Larn?”

“No. He’s the next biggest and he about knocked me down with his axe the other day. My arm hurts just thinking about it.” Larn grinned. “Larn, you got the garden. Take Martok with you.”

“Aye, Tommy.”

He saw Karn and Nalin walk out of the village from the corner of his eye. They looked around, nodding to Tommy’s group, then turned and walked back the way they came.

“We need someone down there where Mikus is running his patrol. Is there anything down there?”

“Nothin but fence and houses,” Larn answered.

“That one house down there has a broken window. Shutters torn clear off, some of the window’s frame too,” Canner put in. “Looks like they came in through the window, but it has a good view”.

“Okay. Canner? Sollip? The house is yours. Stay in there and look out. Make sure Mikus’s people know you’re in there when they come by.”

“Aye Tommy.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”

Tommy got a chorus of ‘aye’s’ and ‘yesses’ as second rank moved off to where Tommy had assigned them. He watched them go, then realized he was standing there by himself with nothing to do. He was looking back and forth wondering how he was going to get a patrol going when he noticed Mikus leaning up against the wall of a cottage nearby, a big grin plastered across his face.

“Ya’ got ‘em where ya’ want ‘em?”

“Uhhh, yes?”

“Ya’ askin’?” His grin got wider.

“Umm, no. They’re where I want them.”

“Good, let’s go see what ya’ done.”

Mikus had Tommy lead him around the western edge of the village, showing him where his men were assigned. Mikus pressed him on why he’d chosen one place over another, and Tommy talked about what he remembered from Resthaven. How they had been assigned one place to watch from, and then a route to patrol. Then when the fighting started, the ondilaan ran through the open places into the village behind them. With the holes in the fence, he wanted people to block where the ondilaan could run through.

After they finished checking on everyone, Mikus spoke. “Makes sense bein’ wha’ yer’ knowin’. It’ll do,” he pronounced. “No’ tha’ best, but no’ tha’ worst. An, ain’t much ya’ can be doin’ wi’ tha’ rest o’ yer’ rank back sortin’ through tha’ blasted pile. Put somun’ in charge, prob’ly Gart, an’ then come back. We need ta’ be seein’ yer’ da’.”

“Aye, Mikus,” Tommy said, trotting off to Gart and letting him know he was in charge. Then Mikus led him not to his da’, but to his own section of the village, pointing out where first rank was deployed and the reasons for it. Tommy noticed Deya and Feya were split between the Karn and Turred, both of the twins periodically casting glances at one another. Then they went and found his da’ elbow deep in scattered parchment, sitting in the headman’s house.

“How are we for the moment, Mikus?”

“We be jus’ fine. The south is well protected; got fences an’ barricades ta’ be stoppin’ any approach. Tommy got a great big hole over ta’ tha’ west ya’ can be drivin’ a wagon through if yer’ wantin’ to. He be set up as best can be. Won’t be stoppin’ a legion o’ me clan, but it’ll do fer’ now. Left Gart in charge.”

“Good, keep an eye on him too. He has good instincts. Saress checked in a bit ago. We’re basically surrounded by a grove of trees. Why they didn’t cut them down, we’ll never know, but we have cover. And her archers have a good view to the south and west.”

“Tha’ be good.”

“Damn right it is. This place is a mess,” Donnor said, waving a disgusted arm towards the mountains of paperwork scattered about. “We’re not turning up much, but we did find out the headman’s wife kept a diary. Ari’s reading that now trying to find out what went on. I’m hoping that’ll keep her busy because Keris found some kids in the pile, and I don’t want her seeing that. We also found a wagon; Camm is seeing if we can hook it up to the artock.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah. It’s a big one. Probably been sitting here for a long time, seeing as it’s sunk into the ground a little. Anyway, if it’s good, we’re going to transfer the artock’s load to it. It’ll take time, but it’s not like anyone needs us here in a hurry.”

Mikus spit. “Aye, there is tha’.”

“Tommy? Mikus? Head back to your ranks. Check in with me is every two hours. If we’re still here, have your people eat rations in place for lunch. I’m going to keep your people to help load the wagon if it’s good. Questions?”

“No.”

“Get to it.”

Mikus led Tommy away, his da’ already distracted by whatever he was reading. “What did he mean by ‘check-in’?”

“Right. Ya’ need ta’ be keepin’ track o’ tha’ time. I’ll help ya’ wi’ tha’. We be comin’ back here every two hours ta’ make sure nothin’ changed an’ there be nothin’ new ta’ be done.”

“Oh.”

“All right. I be leavin’ ya’ here. Stay wi’ yer’ people. Walk between ‘em. Make sure they’re bein’ okay. An’ sing out if ya’ see anythin’. I’ll come a runnin’ if I hear any fightin’. Any questions?”

“No, Mikus.”

“Good. Off wi’ ya’, then.”

Mikus turned and walked away, leaving Tommy by himself to walk to where second rank was deployed. It was strange being in charge, he realized, with everyone in his rank depending on him.

He checked in with Gart to let him know he was back, and let him know what the rough plan was. Then he moved on to where Larn was, doing the same thing. He put an end to the bored digging they were doing in the garden, using their spears as spades. Remembering what a pain it was to keep the blade sharp, he passed that wisdom on, saying they might as well just stop before they made more work for themselves sharpening their blades this evening.

Canner and Sollip were down at the house taking turns looking out while poking around and seeing what they could find. They weren’t having much luck, though Sollip had a fancy new knife sticking out of his belt. Canner was teasing him about not stabbing himself in his manhood with his new sword; the knife’s sheath noticeably long. Tommy rolled his eyes and left, Sollip arguing with Canner about the virtues of his new find.

Tommy wandered back and forth among his men, patrolling the western edge himself and bored out of his mind as the morning dragged on. He’d almost forgotten how dull guard duty was, but at least there wasn’t the underlying tension like there’d been back in Resthaven. And that thought reminded him of walking his patrol that one night, the uneasy feeling and strange pressure he’d felt right before the attack.

At least there wasn’t any of that now, the sounds of the day otherwise normal despite all the destruction around. He looked around at the damaged homes, the blood, the signs of whatever had happened here, and it brought the battles he’d experienced back to the mind. He shivered, looking off into the trees and trying to clear his head.

He was playing around with his Tol, moving it here and there out of sheer boredom when something in the trees caught his eye. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, but whatever it was seemed to be watching him in return. It was some kind of animal, he realized, walking a little further while trying to get a better view into the trees. It moved and turned out to be a bird, a large bird, with speckled brown plumage and piercing amber eyes. It watched him, seemingly studying him in return, with a wild intelligence before turning its head sharply to the side.

Tommy followed its gaze as Karn and Nalin walked into view, continuing their patrol of the southern edge. They walked closer to the tree where the bird had roost, the bird eyeing them warily as they approached. Then it took flight with a powerful stroke of its wings, Tommy noticing a flash of orange from large triangular feathers along the wings’ trailing edge. And it quickly flew off into the forest, weaving between the trees and disappearing from sight as if it had never been.

“Did you see that bird?” Tommy asked.

“What bird? You’re not seeing things we can’t see again, are you?” Nalin complained.

“No.” Tommy grinned. “Just a bird up in the tree. It flew off that way.”

“Then yer’ seein’ more than we are, lad,” Karn put in. “I can’t wait ta’ be leavin’ this place. Nothin’ here but the dead,” Karn spat, looking at all the damage around them.

“Me, neither,” Nalin said, slapping Karn on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s finish our route. See ya’ later, Tommy.”

“See ya’,” Tommy said, absently, still staring off into the trees. I wonder what kind of bird that was, he thought, figuring he’d ask Ahton about it when he had the chance.

Sometime later Mikus grabbed him and they reported nothing was happening to his da’. His da’ had nothing new to add either beyond confirming the wagon was usable and they were transferring supplies. Saress was there and asked about how the ranks were set up. He got a nod after he told her about his rank, but that was it. Then they returned to the villages edge, Tommy taking up walking back and forth, doing his best to stifle a yawn, while every now and then looking off into the trees. The most exciting thing to occur was Larn finding some carrots, and he was munching happily on them while passing the time tossing rocks out into the dirt.

About an hour later, Keris walked up with the other members of second rank that had been at the pile. He looked haggard and worn, they all did, and tiredly met Tommy’s eyes with their own. One of them had vomit on his tunic and didn’t seem to notice it was there.

“I’m back, Tommy. Show me where we’re deployed,” Keris said, his listless voice totally at odds with his normally friendly manner.

Tommy led him around the edge of the village, showing him where everyone was. Keris commented little, grunting and nodding at what Tommy said. When there was nothing left to say, Keris had the two with him take up a patrol between the guard points and got them on their way.

“Tommy, you are relieved. Head back to your da’; he and Ari want you there.”

“Aye, Keris … You, okay?”

“No. But I will be.”

Tommy eyed him for a moment before clapping him on his shoulder. Keris looked beaten, and Tommy had never seen him so down. Tommy walked back to the village center, seeing the artock being relieved of its burden, one package at a time. The correts seemed jealous, and were looking on. He caught sight of the pile of bodies being put to the torch as he walked through the door of the cottage his da’ was in.

“I’m here, Da’.”

“Keris relieve you?”

“Aye.”

“How was being in charge?”

“Weird.”

“It always is. Anything stick out?”

“Ummm, no. Saw a strange bird, but that was about it. In the end, when everything was done? It was boring. I was trying to find things to do.”

“That’s good, Tommy. Boring is good.”

Tommy eyed his da’ as he turned back to the papers before him.

“Pick up a stack, Tommy, and start reading. These papers were strewn everywhere when we came in, so they’re not in any order. We’re looking for anything that can tell us where people came from, where they went, or anything at all about the ondilaan. Anything about supplies hand to me.

“The headman here used to be a merchant, and was a crazy note taker. I swear he wrote everything down, even the color of his underclothes. This is taking forever, and he used some kind of shorthand I’ve never seen. We’ve got this stuff, while Ari is looking at the diaries and everything else we found in the other houses.”

“Gods. This is going to be boring, too.”

“Hey, Tommy? If things are exciting, people are dying. Sure, this is going to be boring, but boring is good.”

Tommy stared at the scattered stacks of parchment stacked haphazardly about, then thought back to the battles he’d fought. Then he looked out through the door to where the pile of bodies was catching on fire, remembering Keris’s face.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’d deal with the paper.

Boring is good.

Decisions

Day 220 – Brookside was destroyed, and everyone there was dead. We’re pretty sure we killed most of the ondilaan that did it, but a couple got away last night at the ford. We stopped at a …

“Look, there’s just no good way to go, no matter what we decide.” Donnor was leaning back in his chair, exasperated as the meeting continued. “I don’t want to zigzag around the Serensea either, but we can’t go cross country with the wagon. The ground’s too soft.”

They’d stopped for the evening at another homestead a little less than a half a day from Brookside, heading west. Donnor had been in the headman’s house reading report after log, and note after tally, in the dead man’s shorthand, trying to figure out the way the notes were organized. He’d eventually realized that lunch had come and gone when Keris and Mikus made their most recent check-in, saying that they’d fed the men.

With the dead from Brookside already put to torch and currently engulfed in flame, there was no real reason to stay. So, he had Tommy gather up the mountain of disorganized paperwork, pile it all on the wagon, and got the troop underway. Why the man couldn’t have had just one single log, kept in a neat, orderly timeline, Donnor would never know. And the years of logs and papers they’d found scattered haphazardly about were driving him nuts.

Donnor found himself imagining an officious, pompous, ass of a man with a high whiny voice objecting to every inquiry he made. But he did his best to put it out of his mind when he realized what he was doing. Cursing a dead man for his method of organization wasn’t going to help anyone.

The men and women of the troop had been happy to leave, especially Keris and those who’d gone through the bodies looking for friends and loved ones. Donnor kept an eye on him, doing his best to show he was there without invading his grief. Keris seemed to appreciate it, clasping Donnor on his shoulder when he’d last checked in. But Donnor’d had to shoo his ilari away twice during their march, Ari just not understanding the man needed to be left in peace. They’d kept up their routine of practicing as they went, every rank taking their turn, and Donnor pretended not to notice Keris doing everything he could to spend his time alone.

When they’d come to the homestead around sunset, the troop was happily tired from the day. This one was a farmhouse, barn, a large building that ended up being grain storage, and a slaughterhouse; all enclosed by a wall. It was similar to the one they’d passed south of the Shoal, with one main entrance and a gate big enough for the wagon to pass through. This homestead was abandoned, too, but where they hadn’t known what had happened to the one before, what had happened here was unhappily clear.

From what Saress and her scouts had been able to tell, the force they’d defeated at the ford had originally come this way. Their tracks had come in from the west, and they’d approached the homestead in stealth. There were signs here and there of forced entry, the most obvious being the broken-down door to one of the bedrooms upstairs, but the people living here had been taken completely unawares. And, it appeared that it had happened maybe two or three days ago, the remains of the ondilaan’s stay not as fresh.

Since this place wasn’t littered with bodies, blood, or the scat of the ondilaan like everywhere else they’d been, Donnor ordered the troop to stay here for the night. And with Tonat happily taking over the homestead’s kitchen to make dinner for them all, the leaders met in the house’s central room to decide what to do next.

“Aye. I be hearin’ ya’, but headin’ west just be dumb.”

“Mikus, just because Harper’s Creek was burnt to the ground doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go there,” Ari interjected. “There could still be survivors. I wish she’d written down her name, but the wife’s diary said the survivors were still wandering in from there a week ago.”

“Yes, Lady,” Keris said. “But the destruction of Harper’s Creek happened over a week prior to what those papers said. A lot could have happened since then. The chances of anyone else being alive down there are almost nil.”

“We don’t know that. They could still be hiding down there just like the ch’ten was up here in the loft.”

“Sure,” Keris continued, tiredly. “But if they were, they’d be just as dead as my cousins’ back in Brookside.” Keris waved a hand towards where the village had been, his face grim. “I don’t want to see any more piles of half-eaten bodies.”

“Oh, Keris …”

“Tha’ be a point right there, but I be havin’ another. We be doin’ ourselves no favor by headin’ west. We’re knowin’ these ondilaan be comin’ from tha’ west, right Saress?”

“Yes. The group from Brookside at least. The tracks say they came in from the west two or three days ago, but that is all.”

“Tha’ be enough. If there be more, we’re headin’ straight fer’ ‘em.”

“You shying away from a fight, old man?” Donnor asked.

“Yer’ full o’ shite, an’ ya’ know it. Ya’ know I no’ be scared o’ no fightin’, ya’ idiot human. But headin’ there jus’ be dumb.”

“Why?”

“Ya’ forget about tha’ road?”

“Damn. Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“Right. Always be knowin’ ya’ had rocks in yer’ head. Halbaad been sayin’ tha’ road be goin’ from Torensdell ta’ Resthaven. Who cares if it’s bein’ kept up anymore, tha’ ondilaan be followin’ it.”

“You don’t know that,” Ari said.

“Aye. No, I don’. But tha’ ondilaan were prob’ly attackin’ Resthaven from where tha’ road been comin’ out. They came ta’ tha’ Shoal from tha’ west, where Halbaad know tha’ road ta’ be. They attacked here an’ Brookside from the west, where we know tha’ road ta’ be ... It don’ take a lore master ta’ be figurin’ it out.”

“No, it doesn’t. And that’s a real good point,” Donnor agreed.

“Yeah, it be. An’ we can be headin’ south ta’ Harper’s Creek, then away down ta’ Lakeside. Be turnin’ there ta’ make fer’ Torensdell, then hit tha’ rest on tha’ way back.”

“But Mikus, if there are more ondilaan on the old road, we’re the only force in the area to challenge them.” Keris tapped the map they’d found, slowly drawing a line with his finger as he traced the route where the road should be. “Lord Maorilan needs us to fight them to take the pressure off his western flank.”

“Aye, but we be needin’ ta’ keep headin’ south.”

“Why? From what the Lady read in that diary, Harper’s Creek is gone. And we know Lakeside is, too. We don’t know a thing about the villages west of here.”

“No, we don’. But it only be two days’ ta’ Harpers Creek, then three, three and a half, ta’ Lakeside.”

“So? So what? There’s nothing left of Lakeside! You said so yourself. I get it’s where you came from, but there’s nothing there. It’ll be just like back in Brookside; nothing left but the dead. What’d you do? Forget your favorite pair of underwear?”

Mikus sat back, throwing a glance Donnor’s way. They both knew Donnor’s spear was back there along with Mikus’s things, and Donnor noticed Tommy and Ari’s silent understanding when he looked their way. They still hadn’t told Saress and Keris about stashing their arms and armor down there, and he was feeling especially awkward about it now that he realized.

“Look. It doesn’t matter really; the wagon can’t go through the forest,” Donnor said.

“So, we dump tha’ damn thing.”

“We can’t, Mikey. We need it for supplies.”

“How’s tha’? We still be havin’ tha’ blasted tower ta’ attach ta’ tha’ giant bloody cow’s back. Stack it back up again.”

“It won’t work.”

“Why no’?”

“You don’t think I guarded those caravans for all those years without picking up on how they run, do you? There’s fifty-four of us now; we left Resthaven with thirty-five. We picked up the ch’ten, all eleven of them, and then twelve more at Varmen’s Shoal. Sure we took losses, but supplies for over fifty is too much to pile on the artock’s back unless you only want to have a day or two of food.”

“Aye, there be tha’.”

“Besides, the ground is soft the closer you get to the ‘sea. The path between Harper’s Creek and Brookside travels right along shore, and Arnet said it’s basically a fen. And, it’s the beginning of the autumn storm season; if it rains, the terrain will only get worse. And the path is narrow on top of everything else. I can’t imagine it’d be easy to get the wagon unstuck.”

“No,” Mikus said, stroking his beard.

“Ilari, what’s to the west of here then?”

“Well, if we head southwest, we hit Silverlake in about two, two-and-a-half days. We’ll have to pass the old road somewhere along the way, so we can figure out where it is when we do. Due south of Silverlake is Windyspring, then following the creek east from there you hit Lindendale and then Harper’s Creek.”

“Halbaad said the old road went through Lindendale. Right, Commander?”

“Commander? You upset with me Keris?”

“Sorry, Donnor, force of habit. This reminds me of one of Arnet’s and Sir Laigan’s briefings.”

“No problem. But, yeah, he did. He said it started in Torensdell and went straight up to Lindendale before turning north through a couple of small woods. If we head straight to Silverlake, we’ll probably pass through the edge of one of those woods he was talking about on our way there.”

“What’s in Silverlake, Donnor?”

“I dunno. I never left Lakeside if I could help it, Ilari. Do you know, Keris?”

“Not really. They farm there; pretty heavily like most of the villages down here from what I’m told. But beyond that and fishing the lake, I’ve never heard of anything that’s stuck out.”

“What’s the lake like?”

“Crystal clear from what I’m told. I had an old barracks mate who came from there. He said they fished on it just like they do on the Serensea. Apparently, it’s pretty to look at. But beyond that, it’s just a lake.”

“Tommy, do you have a list of our supplies?”

“Aye, Da’. Been keeping it in the book like you wanted.”

“How are we for supplies then?”

“Ummm. I don’t have the finished tally from what we took from Brookside, so I don’t have a complete list. But I can tell you we’re going through meat a lot faster than before.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, we have twenty more mouths to feed. Saress, do you think there’s any hunting to be had around here?”

“No, Donnor. We could try, but this area is not rich in wild things. Tracks are sparse.”

“Well then, that just takes it.”

“Da’?”

“He be thinkin’ abou’ supplies, lad. An army be movin’ on its stomach.”

“Huh? What army?”

“He’s talking about us, Tomilanthus. Without enough supplies, the troop cannot move; we’ll have nothing to eat. What are you thinking, Donnor?”

“I’m thinking we have to head to Silverlake. The wagon needs hard ground to move on, and the further we get from the sea the harder the ground gets. We need meat and supplies. We can raid any abandoned settlements we come to, but they won’t have enough for what we need.”

“The settlements won’t have fresh meat, Strike Leader. The ondilaan eat it whenever they find it.”

Keris looked at Saress quizzically, but Donnor kept talking.

“Right. So, we go to Silverlake, see what we find, then fish the lake. Spend a day or two stocking up and help out the village, smoke whatever we catch, then head back to the old road and continue on our way.”

“Think anybody’ll be there, Commander?”

“I don’t know, Keris. I’m hoping there’ll be.”

“Me too.”

“And if you call me commander again, I might leave you there.”

Keris smirked. “Yes, Commander.”

“Ass.”

“I don’ be likin’ sittin’ pretty, waitin’ around an’ fishin’, though.”

“I know, Mikey, but we need supplies. What else can we do?”

The room quieted as they thought. Ari was watched him intently, then shook her head. “Ilari … you just want to fish.”

“Well, yeah. Who doesn’t?” He grinned.

“You’re impossible.”

“You love me for it,” he said, giving her a flamboyant wink.

“Okay, you two lovebirds. We’ve got children present.” Keris hooked his thumb at Tommy.

“Hey!”

They all laughed.

“Right. Enough of that,” Donnor said, still grinning. “Let’s break this up, make sure the troop is settled in, and turn in for the night. What are the watches?”

“Keris be havin’ first, me tha’ middle, Saress in tha’ mornin’.”

“Fine. Ilari? Can you take Tommy and get a good tally of our supplies before you train with him this evening? We need a clear idea of where we stand sooner rather than later.”

“Sure, Donnor.”

“Then the rest of you should probably get some sleep. Saress, can you walk me around the watch stations before you turn in? And I want your opinion on how Petal is settling in.”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

“That reminds me. Keris, tell me what you know about Gart when we come back.

“No problem, Donnor.”

“Good. Let’s do it.”

The meeting broke up and Donnor left with Saress. Petal was fitting in just fine, having teamed up with Ty, a halfling hunter that had been with the troop since Redtail. Both Ty and Saress agreed she was a fine addition to the scouts, not needing any instruction with a bow at all. She was actually teaching them things, and they taught her the battle craft she needed to know in return.

Donnor returned to the farmhouse after checking on the rest of the troop, and went back to reading the voluminous notes they still hadn’t gotten the whole way through yet. Sitting in the room he’d taken as his own on the second floor of the house, he leaned back against the wall behind him while sitting on the bed. Piles of papers were strewn across the bed all around him, and he was reading them by the light of a candle sitting on a stand at his side. He’d taken this room because it had its own fireplace, a luxury for the common folk, and a small fire burned there taking the chill from the room.

It appeared the headman from Brookside didn’t like the mayor of Silverlake. No great surprise there; Donnor was pretty sure the man hadn’t liked a soul. The records of trade between the two villages were full of snide comments about things that were lacking or wrong. It all seemed fine to Donnor from what he could see; everything listed in neat rows of reasonable prices and quantity. But when he read another listing complaining about the price of a root found in the lake being a quarter penny more than it should be, he tossed the page into the fire, adding to the ashes already there.

It was a couple of candles later that Ari poked her head in. She looked tired, but gave him a warm smile before moving some papers and sitting down at his side.

“Been looking for you. Studying hard?” Ari asked.

“Heh. Just reading these endless notes. Do you know this guy complains about a quarter penny? By the gods, he was a miser. I don’t like to speak bad about the dead, but there has to be someone out there who doesn’t miss him.”

Ari chuckled, tucking her legs underneath her. “His wife was the same way. She took great pride in being the headman’s wife, and reading her diary is like reading a plot to take over the world. You should hear how she described her closest friends if you could even call them that. Shrew this, harlot that … it’s a descent into spite I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

“Oh, gods, I was hoping you were having a better time of it than I was.”

“Ha. No. But it’s okay, Ilari. In any event, I am through.”

“Learn anything?”

“Beyond gossip? Not really. The last refugee from further south arrived a week ago, with no one new since then. Not a word about the ondilaan.”

“Oh, well. Where’s Tommy?”

“Finishing his tally of the supplies. We took a break a couple of hours ago to practice his Tol; he just started back up. Donnor, you really didn’t do a very good job of teaching our son his letters.”

“Hey. I did the best I could.”

“Hmmm. He writes like a child; you read and write like a palace scribe. You didn’t help him by shorting his education.”

“Ari, what would you have me do?” He leaned back. “Tommy and I ended up in a fishing village that we never left. There was no trade except by boat, no travelers passing through, and we needed to hide. It was perfect. You lived there for a while … who was he going to write? Yella thought I was crazy for forcing him to learn his letters in the first place; she could barely read at all. But at least she humored me about it.”

“Donnor, it’s just stunning for me to see him so lacking when I know how good at it you are.”

“Well, thanks, I guess. You done criticizing me for the decisions me and my wife made years ago?”

She moued. “Ouch. Life, Donnor, I’m not trying to start a fight.”

He worked his shoulders. “I guess I just took it a little personal. It was a hard time, Ari. You weren’t there.”

“Tell me about it?”

“I’d rather not. Decisions made; time’s gone by. It’s in the past, Ari. Let’s leave it there.”

“You sure?”

He looked into her eyes, studying her. “No, not really. I’m really not sure of anything.”

“Can I help?”

“You already do. Just by being here.”

She smiled at him, that special smile she gave him whenever they were alone. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say just the right thing at exactly the right time.”

“I dunno. Lucky, I guess.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Anyway, he should be picking it up easy enough.”

“He is, it’s just slow. Forcing him to keep the record for the troop is helping. He hates it, but it makes him work.”

“That’s why I did it.”

“I thought so. But it will be a long time before he’ll ever learn elven.”

“How’s that?”

“It’s a completely different language, Donnor. It’s not like you taught him my tongue.”

“Well, there is that. Yella would have killed me.”

“Didn’t like elves?”

“Didn’t like you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. It didn’t help I could never forget about you. Did you have the same problem with your betrothed? Always talking about me?”

“You wish, you cad,” she said, poking him. “Anyway, problems with Alaris knowing about you? No. Our courtship was arranged by our families. I’m certain he knew all about you, or at least heard enough rumors to understand.”

“How’s that?”

“Huh. I guess you wouldn’t know. You never really lived the elven life, did you?”

“No. The most exposure I had to your life was our time together. You know that.”

“Yes, I do. And I have some good memories of it, too.” She smiled.

“Me, too.”

“Anyway, my father quashed any rumors of our time together and Tommy’s birth, mercilessly.”

“How come?”

“Old-fashioned.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, ‘ah’.”

“I take it I wasn’t good enough?”

“No. That is a bit of an understatement.”

“A bit?”

“Kind of like saying the sun is a little warm.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Yes. You never did meet him, did you?”

“No. Only that one master from the college when they hired me the first time. Then, only the paymaster after that. I think he worked in the college’s storeroom.”

“That would explain it. My father is old and has old-fashioned ideals. That includes elves not marrying non-elves.”

“Yeah, I guess that would be a problem.”

“Yeah.”

He put his arm around her. “So, this Alaris guy? Who is he?”

She smiled. “Jealous?”

“A little. I mean, you did have a child with him.”

“Dolt. You were married too. It’s not like I don’t know you slept with her.”

“Heh. Yeah, we did. We were trying to have another child, never could have one though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I still have Tommy.”

“Yes, we do. He’s a blessing.”

“Yes, he is.” He put his arms around her, pulling her into him. “Do you think you would have married the guy?”

“Alaris? Yes. We announced our betrothal almost two years before I left.”

“Ouch. Bet that’s one unhappy elf. You say goodbye?”

“Life, no, Donnor. I was all but a prisoner in the Vale. I wasn’t going to say goodbye, and I wasn’t joking when I told you how I left. I seriously wore my riding clothes to the central market and just walked away. I hope Falia didn’t get into too much trouble.”

“Falia? Why’s that name familiar?”

“My maid? You met her. She always came with Salia and Erella to the Awyrllyn when we went there. The one who was always setting up our picnics? Taught you healing? Tawny hair?”

“The older one? The one who used to tell me to mind my manners all the time?”

Ari laughed. “Yes, that’s Falia. If I remember right, you splashed her for that, too.”

He grinned. “Yes, I did.”

“She was totally annoyed by you, but I think she loved you in her own way.”

“Loved me!”

“Not like that, you idiot. Falia basically raised me since my mother died. She knew I loved you, and so she did too.”

“You love me, huh?”

“You know I do.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know.”

“Humph. Anyway, so you were about to marry him and you walked out on him? That’s tough.”

“He said something I didn’t like.”

“That’s it?”

“There might have been a little more.”

“Remind me not to piss you off.”

“Hmmmm.”

“And you’re still betrothed?”

“I doubt it. There’s a ceremony we went through when we promised for one another. It makes a kind of bond between us, but it’s nothing special.”

“A bond?”

“Not like our bond, silly. Kind of like an invisible magical mark that says we’ve considered becoming one.”

“You kinda already did, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“Di’ii?”

“Life, Donnor, I slept with him. I thought I was getting married. Get over it.”

“Kinda hard.”

She huffed. “Men.”

He sat quiet for a while, but couldn’t help himself. “So, this mark?”

“Life, Donnor! This is kind of cute, but it’s annoying as well.” She turned, half glaring at him. “It’s a mark. You can see it if you have enough Tol, or concentrate on trying to make it seen. It’s a declaration of intent. Nothing more.”

“Is it there right now?”

“No.”

“Good. How did you get rid of it?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “I didn’t. All I would have had to do is a simple working in his presence, and it would have gone away.”

“Then where’d it go?”

“I have no idea,” she said, examining the back of her right hand. “But it means our betrothal is off. Anyway, it’s been gone since we left Lakeside.”

“That long? How do you know?”

“This really bothers you, doesn’t it? Yes, that long. I haven’t felt it since that night.”

“What night?”

“That night on the boat?”

“Oh. That night.”

“Yes, ‘oh’.” She was grinning. “Why does it bother you so much? I’m not upset about Yella.”

“Ari, Yella’s probably dead.”

“Ouch, Donnor. I’m not trying to make light of your loss.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Anyway, Tommy and I were talking about it, and I’m all but sure she’s gone. We probably won’t even find her body. Alaris isn’t; dead, I mean. And I don’t want to run into an angry man who’s looking for the mother of his child.”

“Life, Donnor. The Vale is hundreds of leagues from here, and it’s been over a year. Besides, he’d never leave the Vale. Him and his father are just as sure to never leave the Vale as my father won’t.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Good.”

He sat quietly, enjoying holding her in his arms and feeling much more secure. She seemed to enjoy it as well, laying her head back into his shoulder. He felt like she was a part of him, and he felt that something she’d pointed out to him the other day come to the fore. He studied it, poking at it with his thoughts.

“Stop that. It tickles.”

“Stop what?”

“Poking at the bond.”

“You can feel that? I was just thinking about it.”

“Well don’t think about it so hard. I’m comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable too.”

She looked up at him, turning her head, her breath on his neck. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as she studied him, his skin tingling wherever they touched. She stared long into his eyes.

“Donnor, I’d like to stay.”

“Stay?”

“The night. With you.”

“Hmmmm. I’ll think about it,” he teased.

“Pretty sure I can convince you,” she said, turning into his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin. She hugged him, wrapping him up in her arms.

“That’s cheating.”

“Nope. Not unfair in the least.” He laughed as she snuggled in. “Hmmm, you’re warm. This is nice.”

It was nice, Donnor realized, the spreading warmth of their bodies relaxing and comforting him. “Ari, do you remember that night on the boat?”

“Hmmm?”

“The night where we first talked?”

“Yes. That was pretty nice, too.” He felt her smile.

“I regret something about that night, though.”

She pushed off, looking up at him. “What’s that?”

“I really wanted to kiss you that night.”

Her face softened as she smiled up at him. “I really wanted to kiss you, too.”

“I think I need to make up for that.”

“It’s not like we haven’t kissed since then.”

“I know. But I feel like I have to make up for it, anyway. I don’t like to miss an opportunity.”

“Hmmm. I’m thinking you might have an opportunity now.”

“I do?”

“Yes. Yes, you do.”

“I love you, Arisaylia Saliantrea.”

“I love you too, Ilari.”

“I think I’d like you to stay, too ... If you want to.”

“I want to … And I also want you.”

He glanced at her lips as she delicately wet them with the tip of her tongue. A smile of promise crossed her face, her eyes dilating as that feeling inside him grew hot, pregnant with promise and need. And as he leaned down to kiss her, she slowly closed her eyes, parting her lips to meet his own.

“Da’! I got the tally done like you wanted,” Tommy said as he opened the door.

Donnor jumped and leaned back from their kiss, a little annoyed by his son’s terrible timing. Ari looked ruefully at him, pushing away and sitting up in bed while smoothing out her dress.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“You got it, Da’. Oh, hi, Ari. Dap is looking for you. Tonat burned her fingers cleaning up after dinner. He wondered if you could heal it for her.”

“Sure, Tommy. I guess I’ll go see her and then turn in for the night. Goodnight, Ilari.” She gave him a long, slow smile. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Arisaylia,” he said as she left, Ari pausing for one final look before disappearing with their son. He blew out the candle after getting ready for bed, lying down and trying to get some sleep. But he ended up lying awake long into the night, staring at the fire. The feeling of her body’s heat was still on him, and the image of her parting lips refused to leave his mind.

Her ghostly presence, haunting his dreams.

The Dogs of War

It had been an eventful day in the Hold, though not all of the day’s events had been welcome. After the fisherwoman’s report the day before, Alaris returned to his army a towering pillar of fury. He was curt to the point of being rude, though not insultingly so, and Pawdrig feared he would leave. But he did not, forming a party of two sixes, as he called them, and sending them off with Jan in the morning.

The woman looked like she’d desperately wanted a reason to be upset, but the prince just kept putting one shiny piece of gold in her hand after another while her jaw opened further and further. Eventually, Pawdrig could have fit his entire warehouse in her mouth, and she nodded dumbly at the princes’ instructions: Take the party of elves to Varmen’s Shoal as quickly as possible. Stop for no reason, including death.

Jan left with her pockets bulging, and Pawdrig and Sir Laigan watched the strange party depart from his office window. He didn’t understand the makeup of those who went with her, and Alaris had used all his skills with courtly words to avoid naming its members. But certain observations could be made while they slowly sailed away across the ‘sea.

The three women who had accompanied Alaris through every meeting thus far had gone along on the journey. The one Pawdrig pegged as not being a guard looked strangely intent, though obviously didn’t want to travel by boat in the least. With them was a man in rich robes, the same one who had been there the day Jan had made her report, always seeming to be standing apart and staring off to the west. The others deferred to him noticeably, and gave him his space.

Along with them were eight others, every single one of them moving with a deadly grace. It looked like a strike team of the king’s guard, and they were all armed for war no matter how hard they tried to conceal it. But there was no hiding the fine elven mail shimmering in the morning sun when the wind opened their cloaks. And they took along little baggage; only a few packs between them.

Along with their party, Maorilan sent missives for both Resthaven and the Shoal to be especially on guard, as the reports suggesting the ondilaan were using the old road were worrisome. His father had told him the road went all the way to the Tang’mato and beyond, during ancient times. And though it was now completely overgrown, in the southern reaches it was still as clear as the day it was laid. Whenever that had been, he thought, glancing towards the map.

Later that morning Arnet had arrived, announcing his presence with his troop’s horns. Pawdrig sent Sir Laigan on horseback to intercept him, knowing full well the dangers involved. And his knight was able to prevent a disaster, the hotheaded Arnet deploying his forces in response to an approaching detachment of elves.

Pawdrig dispatched multiple runners to the elven army, assuring Alaris that he was trying his best to prevent any misunderstandings. He never did get an answer; Sir Laigan ordering Arnet’s men out of battle formation to return to the Hold apparently before a response could come. But while his troops were doing so, the prince’s party approached as well.

Pawdrig would never, never again, put Arnet in any situation where delicate negotiations were taking place. Sir Laigan eventually had to yell at the man to get him to shut up, Arnet fuming while attempting to bar entry to the Hold. But as Lord Maorilan hurriedly descended into the courtyard, his shouted commands for Arnet to hold finally got through. Explaining in heated words, Pawdrig brutally pounded into his head that the elf standing before them was a crown prince of the Vale; a friend and ally.

Arnet looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue before slamming to one knee, begging the prince for forgiveness. Alaris never did quite answer; his slippery words acknowledging an offense had been made and an apology given, while never once saying whether or not the apology had been accepted. Arnet picked up on that technicality loud and clear, and remained pale whenever the prince was around for the rest of the day.

And he retained his pallor long into the afternoon, the Nessa and his party in attendance while Arnet gave his report. Pawdrig learned about the loss of so many of his men, only thirty-three remaining out of the seventy-seven deployed. And while learning that, Arnet expressed his skepticism about Donnor’s version of events of what had transpired in Resthaven. Grudgingly, he reported that over two hundred ondilaan had been killed, the plethora of swords and axes he returned with lending weight to the tale, but Arnet couldn’t bring himself to believe the victory had been won by mere conscripts and villagers, no matter the evidence presented to him. He confirmed that part of the town had been destroyed, the damage being mainly to houses and outbuildings, and then finished by reporting that Donnor had somehow retained most of his men, thirty-five of them heading south over a week ago despite Maorilan losing so many of their own.

He moved on to outlining the events that had occurred as he’d heard them, repeating the villager’s tales. Sergeant Moran had been poisoned during a mutiny; Arisaylia reportedly healing him and dragging him back from death. The villagers had reported she’d healed many of them as well, of any injury or ailment no matter how small. And he described how they all but worshipped her, reporting they were referring to her as ‘the Lady’ whenever she was around.

Arnet was worried that her popularity would be an issue and had tried to put an end to it, but there was no changing the villager’s minds. So, he suggested that a royal visit was necessary, recommending that Pawdrig travel to Resthaven with a detachment of the Redtail Guard. If Lord Maorilan would just tell the people he had sent Arisaylia there in the first place, it would lessen her importance and return him to his rightful place in their eyes.

Alaris’s party did not respond well to Arnet’s suggestions, and Pawdrig hurriedly changed the subject before any other offense could be made.

Then Arnet went on to describe the two battles that Donnor’s irregulars had been involved with, as he’d heard them. How the first battle had been ended by some event he’d never quite been able to get a good answer to; something having to do with lights that caused the ondilaan to retreat. Then a few days later, there had been another battle in the night that had been won by men who’d been healed. This being something he could lend credence to, Sergeants Moran and Oldsby describing a set-piece battle that ended in the fields.

Arnet went on for some time dissecting the poor decisions made by those who’d been there, but in the end agreed that they’d done the best they could. He concluded that Donnor showed some promise as a field commander, but needed to be trained desperately. And that Moran and Oldsby should be reassigned as quickly as possible, both of them getting too close to the populace there.

With the elves present, Pawdrig couldn’t call him out for being an idiot, but by the lost gods he wanted to. And by his knight’s thundering expression, Sir Laigan was fighting the urge as well. The knight’s frown was a mixture of fury and disappointment as Arnet concluded his arrogant report.

Then the elves questioned Arnet late into the afternoon. They dissected this or that minute thing, always returning to the magic Lady Saliantrea displayed. One of the elves lost patience with him, S’tol Batari descending into an unintelligible clamoring of elvish after being unable to get the answers he sought. But whatever insights into Arisaylia’s magic they were looking for, Arnet could not say, obviously not being interested in her magic in the least. Eventually the prince used his own powers to make a selection of magical lights, questioning Arnet if he had seen anything like them before. Arnet paled, but was interrupted before answering when a new issue arose.

Shouts of alarm echoed throughout the Hold as his guardsmen raced into the hall. They were after a group of armed elves, and it took some time to reassure his men he was not under attack. But the tension remained high as the reason for their interruption became clear.

The ondilaan had arrived.

After a quick consultation, the Nessa sent his people to return to the army while he and a select few asked to use the tower. Sir Laigan offered to take the field with the guard, but the prince demurred, saying that Redtail should preserve its forces. The prince offered to handle the attack and called on Redtail to man the walls in case his forces needed to fallback. Pawdrig agreed, dismissing Arnet to order his men to arms and alert the town to the coming attack. Then climbing central tower to its roof, they looked out into the pass and the scene developing there.

At first it was hard to see, but Pawdrig picked out the hoard as it descended from the pass. They were an unclear mass of shapes, not quite able to be seen in the distance, almost like a fever dream across the fields. And they numbered in the hundreds, no end to them in sight as far as he could see.

The elves deployed to meet them, breaking their camp and spreading out across the mouth of the pass in stunning precision. A series of horns went out from their lines, their high-pitched cry echoing off the surrounding hills. And Pawdrig had his men sound their horns in reply, the high and middling pitch of the horns piercing the day.

Their challenge was met at first by silence, but then a chant could be heard. The basso sound seemed to focus on the Hold itself as it descended from the pass, pressing itself upon their chests. It was as if the very ground itself was growling at them, raising the hairs on the backs of their necks. And the thunderous din constantly grew, until Pawdrig feared for the numbers set against them.

The sound continued as the engagement commenced, a volley of arrows striking forth. Flaming streaks of light shot from the pass, shrieking as they came. It was as if a waterfall of flames descended upon the waiting elves, Pawdrig never having seen anything like it before. Hesia gasped at his side, reporting that magics could be felt in the flames at even this distance. But the elves with the prince were unmoved, calmly looking on as the flames descended upon his men.

Then something occurred in the elven formations. The fire from the ondilaan landed in and around them, not having much effect as far as Maorilan could see. The elves responded, firing their own volley of arrows back into the horde. And the arrows of both sides flew back and forth for many long minutes, the growling continuing as a figure dropped here and there whenever they were pierced through.

But as time moved on, something became clear. The elven archers appeared to be much more accurate, and could shoot at a much greater range. And as Pawdrig picked out more and more figures dropping to the ground amongst the horde, the ondilaani forces backed away. Breaking contact with a marked indifference to their losses, they returned to the pass, never once having lost their discipline.

Alaris turned to him as the ondilaan broke contact, meeting his eyes for long moments before turning to the elf at his side and passing orders in his tongue. And as the afternoon progressed into evening, a tense silence descended upon the Hold. The elves reporting the ondilaan were massing in the pass, just out of range.

Hours had passed since he’d last eaten, and Tessa had food brought to him on the tower. He’d barely done any justice to it, nibbling nervously as night fell, no matter the elves apparent victory earlier in the day. Alaris shared the reports of his men while he ate, passed on by some mystical means to the S’tol at his side. The elves could see hundreds of ondilaan littering the pass, and the ondilaan in turn watched the elves, not intimidated in the least.

And as night progressed, the two armies sat still. The ondilaan becoming shadows, then more and more indistinct as darkness fell and the clouds obscured the moons.

An eerie silence settled over the land, and then a low sound grew. Starting so indistinct it could barely be heard, a threatening snarl swelled in the night. Then with a single, lone, HEHEHE, a thundering noise began. And when it did, red lights flared amongst the elven lines.

“S’tol Da’an, a tan dian’aie,” Alaris said.

“Nessa Farlesdar, what’s going on?”

“A moment Pawdrig,” Alaris said as the richly robed elf at his side clapped his hands together. A red-orange light built between his hands, becoming almost as bright as a star, before flashing out high overhead, leaving afterimages in its wake. It broke out over the battlefield, lighting up the night.

A high horn sounded, cutting through the din, then many more sounded in return. Then a series of sounds like swiftly flying birds rushed out from the elven lines, hissing across the field. It was impossible to tell what was happening in the dark, but whatever it was, it was accompanied by the sounds of ondilaan howling in the night.

“Nessa Farlesdar … What is going on?”

“Maorilan, you can see for yourself.”

“Alaris, I can’t see a damned thing.”

“My apologies. I forgot your race’s deficiencies with sight. I shall rectify the issue. S’tol Da’an? Lenden Ar. Pawdrig, you may want to close your eyes.”

“Ku, Nessa,” the elf said.

Another light began to build between the mage’s hands. This one was white, blindingly so, and Pawdrig shut his eyes against the glare. He opened them as the star of light leapt from between the mage’s hands, streaking out into the sky.

A triple tap of horns sounded from the darkness below, then spots of light began to appear before the pass. The lights grew and then shot up from the ground and into the sky. There they burst, floating in the air as high as a hawk, their soft gentle illumination revealing the ranks of the elven army.

And the horde before them.

Where he had spent the first hours of the night not being able to see, the soft light of the elven magics now shining down from above exposed the ondilaan below. They were sprinting towards the elven lines as fast as they could, in numbers that appeared endless. A screaming wave of bestiality was cresting over the terrain, terrifying to behold. But the elves stood fast as the wave rushed towards them, using the distance between the two armies to slaughter the enemy.

And slaughter them they did, the enemy being winnowed away as they came.

From what Pawdrig could see, the elves fought unlike any army he had ever studied. And since the elves of the Vale hadn’t fought a battle in almost a thousand years, no one really remembered the tactics they used. But Pawdrig would never forget the efficiency he saw in the fields before him, and the terrifying effectiveness of the army of the Vale.

The ranks of the elves were spread out, not tightly packed together as they should have been. And it seemed as if every elf out there was armed with a bow. They fired shot after shot into the onrushing horde, and it was as if the ondilaan were moths, blindly running into a fire that was eager to consume them. And though they ran fast trying to reach the source of the fire as quick as they could, they were not fast enough to escape the flames of the elves who burned them.

As the ondilaan closed, individual horns sounded here and there amongst the elven ranks, and then the formations split. The elves that made up the first rank filed orderly through holes that developed behind them, moving to line up in the rear. Then those holes closed, the bows never pausing while the movement was underway. Arrows flashed out in a torrent into the face of the ondilaan as they charged. Then a short time later the horns sounded once again, and the next rank rotated through.

This went on for many minutes, the elves continuing their orderly rotation, slowly backing away from the horde while it closed. Then a double tap of horns sounded from within the elven lines, and new formations stepped through. Newcomers poured through the open spaces in the lines, taking up station before the firing elves. These new formations were spread out, wide spaces between the individual elves from what Pawdrig could see. And though the arrows continued to fly through them and into the enemy, the fire now seemed to be limited to the areas between these fresh formations of elves. The archers seemed to be funneling the ondilaan towards these new formations, and the ondilaan seemed willing to go to escape the concentrated fire of the elves.

A moment before the two forces met, the horns of the elves sounded as one, and something truly incredible was there to behold. With shocking clarity, the ground before the elves pulsed and shimmered with a delicate green light. Then rippling like a wave, it washed into the oncoming horde. The ondilaan caught within the emerald flow seemed to fall as one, stumbling over one another before the elves. And as they tripped and fell, they piled up, stalling the charge.

And then with a cry clearly heard from within the Hold, the elves charged. The enemy now prostrate before them. And there was slaughter there in the dark.

The elves rushed in, their lines intermingling for many long moments before the elves retreated, leaving corpses in their wake. The screams of the dying ondilaan echoed across the terrain as a huge cry went up from the horde, the ondilaan still on their feet doing everything they could to catch their retreating foes. Here and there they succeeded, slaughtering the elves from what Pawdrig could see. But every time they did so, the next amazing thing occurred.

Blinding flashes of light flew out from the elven lines. It was as if the elven army was a thundercloud shooting forth lightning from within its ranks. Deafening crashes and thunder echoed across the land as Pawdrig’s eyes were struck again and again with the afterimages of flaring lights. New screams were had, new cries to behold, as the lightning continued whenever the ondilaan were able to overtake the forward lines. And the flashes became more and more frequent as the horde continued their charge in.

Soon the entire front of the elven army was engaged, the screams and cries of the elves were distantly heard amongst the snarls and howls of the ondilaan. Combat continued for many long minutes; the orderly ranks of the elves pressed hard by the slavering horde. A symphony of chaos was there, shrieking its discordant song in the night.

It was then that a great cacophony went up from the ondilaan, Pawdrig hearing their beastly throats crying out as one. Haunting whooOOPs echoed strangely across the pass while a smattering of malevolent lights, flickering like candles, appeared within their ranks. Then arrows launched from their lines once more trailing fire, and the fire descended like thousands of falling stars into the ranks of the elves.

“Makon dar, S’tol!” Alaris commanded, the richly robed elf launching a hasty streamer of yellow light into the sky. It streaked out from the tower trailing a high-pitched scream, the noise catching the attention of everyone below. And as the noise penetrated the battlefield, the elven horns sounded once again.

A misty light began to appear here and there over their formations, and it slowly became solid while taking on a crystalline appearance as it grew. Where one of these sections touched another, they combined, forming a dome that shimmered like glass over the army. However, the protective dome did not form whole, and there were many breaks in its cover.

Where the flaming arrows struck the crystalline pane they flashed and flared, ending their existence on contact. But where the arrows got through, the elves died, the flames seemingly excited and eager to kill them. Their bodies were like burning candles, lighting up a window in the night.

The horde caught sight of the dying elves and a great cry went up. Snarling voices of victory beat upon the elves of the Vale, finding pleasure in their deaths. The intensity of the charge increased, the ondilaan pouring forth from the pass in an orgy of destruction. They seemed to revel in it, and there was no end to them in sight.

“An’tor’da.”

“A tala da, Nessa?”

“An’tor’da.”

“Ku, Nessa.”

“Pawdrig, you may wish to close your eyes.”

“What is going to happen,” he asked, not shamed in the least by his quavering voice.

“Something not seen in an age,” the prince replied blandly, closing his eyes and spreading his arms wide.

Pawdrig looked at him curiously as the light from the mages grew upon the roof of his tower. Their hands glowed red; just as the prince’s had done days before. There were no sizzling droplets this time, but even so, the light was the same. A baleful molten radiance that built and continued to grow.

Pawdrig looked out, catching sight of similar pinpoints of light amongst the elven ranks. The ondilaan were pressing the elves harshly, almost breaking through in places from what he could see. The elven archers were firing into and through their own ranks in a reckless attempt to help out in any way they could, but the elves were losing ground. The snarls and screams from the battlefield continued to grow as the pressure from the mystical working increased.

Then as the sounds of battle pounded upon the tower the light waxed to blinding. And just as the ondilaan began breaking through the elven lines, the prince cried out, “An’tor’da!” The sound of his voice echoing strangely through the air.

The lights surrounding the mages’ hands flew out over the battlefield, reflecting off the crystalline domes below. They colored the lightning still coming from within the ranks in its baleful glare, turning the armies red before them. Then as Pawdrig watched, the individual streaks combined, becoming a demonic bar that descended upon the horde. It struck a short distance from the lines.

And horror occurred.

A rippling cacophony of detonations progressed from far to near in front of the elven army. Tremendous explosions rippled across the field, echoing again and again as the sound bounced off the walls of the pass. Wherever the blasts occurred, bodies flew, colossal flashes of light immolating those that weren’t flung piteously away. And the shattered pieces of the ondilaan began raining down upon the battlefield like crumbs, falling from the mouth of some beast that was feasting on their dead.

The hellish light dimmed, the thunder slowly echoing away as the prince and his mages staggered against the crenellations. But where they were faltering and exhausted by whatever they’d done, the elven army stood strong. Fighting somewhere still below them, their horns sounded as the clash of combat continued. And as the light from those baleful fires came to an end, the screams of the ondilaan could be heard. Their warriors fleeing from whatever they’d witnessed, running pell-mell from the apocalypse that had become.

There was a trench in the ground where the bar of light had struck, fully a company wide in places, and stretching across the pass. It was deep, very deep, and the area around it was charred and churned as if some great hand had reached down and lit a fire where it had been. Ash and dust were falling all around, a cloud forming as he watched that blanketed the field. The desolation of the land was a scar on life itself, a testament to the horror the elves had wrought on everything that he could see.

Paling, Pawdrig cast a wary eye towards the elves around him, then focused on the prince who was currently glaring out into the field. The man was under tremendous pressure, having come here to obtain the woman he considered his wife, the same woman who was interested in another man from everything Maorilan had seen. This was a man who was angry, and had an army at his beck and call that could do what Maorilan had just seen.

He motioned to Sir Laigan with his eyes, the knight nodding in complete understanding. There was no doubt in Pawdrig’s mind that they shared the same thoughts, the moment striking them both with startling clarity. And as they watched the prince clench and unclench his fists, the threat was clear.

The ondilaan continued their retreat, being routed from the field. The elves continued firing on them but did not advance, standing their ground as the space between the armies grew. The forward ranks of the elves killed the ones remaining behind, before their horns sounded once again and they retreated back behind the archers. The crystalline panes above them diminished into a mist that drifted away as if it had never been. And as the soft lights over the battlefield dimmed into nothingness and ended Pawdrig’s ability to see, he caught sight of robed figures being carried or helped towards tents in the rear.

Darkness fell, and then a great cry went up.

WhooOOP!

HEHEHE! HEHEHE!

AaaaOOOOO!

SLAM!

WhooOOP!

SLAM! SLAM!

OooooOOOOO!

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

The snarling chant rose to crescendo; a howling that shattered against all who bore witness. The sound was deafening, striking fear in everyone who heard it, before it was pierced through by a punishing howl.

OOOOOOoooooo!

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

A snarling growl came forth, sounding from thousands of throats. It echoed in the air itself, coming out of everywhere and everything, resonating throughout the pass. Then it slowly faded away; the sound haunting in its memory. An eerie silence descended, an infectious disquiet there in the dark.

OOOOOOoooooo! came a final haunting howl.

The silence was profound.

Alaris paused, then spoke with the elves before turning Maorilan’s way. He met Pawdrig’s eyes, studying and seeming to judge him, and then quietly spoke.

“Lord Pawdrig Maorilan, ally of the Vale, the enemy remains. And as much as I do not wish to, it appears that I must remain as well.”

Moving On

The troop left the homestead the next day, marching almost due west with the wind at their backs. Saress had her archers farther out than normal, saying something about getting beyond their scent, but beyond combining the pairs of archers into groups of three or four, the troop made its way like it normally did.

Tommy had a new adventure, though, and he was currently experiencing it as he walked beside Keris at the head of the line. He was Keris’s shadow today, observing what he did and how he led second rank. Keris had been speaking for what seemed like hours about the minutiae of leading a group of men and, to be blunt, it was the most boring thing Tommy had ever been forced to listen to in his life.

“… so, every hour or so, you need to walk back the line and check on everybody.”

“Yes, Keris.”

“Make sure everyone has water and is drinking.”

“Yes, Keris.”

“And make sure to pick your nose at least once.”

“Yes, Keris.”

“Oh, and take the dragon for a walk.”

“Yes, Keris.”

“Otherwise, he makes a mess on the floor.”

“Yes … huh?”

Mikus burst out laughing, his great belly laugh breaking through the scattered talk in the ranks.

Keris grinned. “Boring you, am I?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean …”

“It’s okay, Tommy. It’s not like anything I’m teaching you is important.” Mikus laughed harder. “Where did you stop paying attention?”

“Ahhh …”

“It couldn’t have been that long ago ...”

“Ummm ...” Tommy blushed bright red. There were tears coming from Mikus’s eyes.

“Tommy?”

“Uhhh …” Tommy looked back and forth between him and Mikus. “Keris … I think I’m going to shut up now.”

Mikus was failing miserably to bring his laughter under control while members of the troop craned their necks to see what was going on. “By tha’ maker, lad, ya’ shoulda’ seen yer’ face!”

“You okay up there?” his da’ called.

“Aye, Commander. We’re having a little fun with Tommy.”

“No problem. He bored?”

“You could say that.” Keris grinned.

“Did he fall asleep?”

“Not quite, but the dragon needs to go on a walk later.”

“Keris!” Tommy complained.

“Oh, gods.” His da’ chuckled. “What were you teaching him?”

“Watch cycles and check-ins,” Keris replied, glancing back the way they’d come. Tommy noticed he’d been doing that a lot since leaving Brookside.

“Well, no wonder. That’s as boring as watching plants grow.” Keris nodded.

“I think he went out on ya’ when ya’ were startin’ in on times and such, Keris.” Mikus started chuckling again. “But I still be want ta’ be seein’ him pickin’ his nose up an’ down tha’ line.”

“Sure,” Keris said, thrusting his chin. “Off you go, Tommy. Get picking.”

Tommy screwed his face up and Mikus started laughing again, Keris joined in. There’s no way I’m doing that!

“Maker, lad. If ya’ keep tha’ up, I’m gonna’ piss me pants!”

“Don’t get to upset, Tommy,” his da’ said, still grinning. “We know it’s boring.”

“Why do I have to learn it then?”

“Well, you keep stepping up to take charge,” Donnor answered. “If you’re going to be doing that, you’d better know what you’re about.”

“I don’t want to be in charge.”

“Good. That’s the first sign we made the right choice.”

“We?”

“Yep, we. The troop is getting big enough that we need to start identifying other people who can take charge in a pinch. We’re getting run a little ragged.” He gestured to include Mikus and Keris.

“How’s that?”

“Because o’ everythin’ tha’ be needin’ ta’ be done, lad,” Mikus answered, wiping his eyes. “In me clan, every rank has its leader, an’ every leader has their second. Tha’ way, they split tha’ things needin’ ta’ be done between ‘em.”

“It’s the same way for the Redtail Guard,” Keris said. “We get assigned in pairs, and you and your mate do everything together. Every tenth pair has a corporal in it, every twentieth a sergeant. Then every hundred men has a senior sergeant.”

“It’s roughly the same wherever you go, Tommy,” his da’ concluded. “The point is, we need to identify leaders to help out getting things done, and you keep stepping up when it’s needed. I’m proud of you, boy.”

“Thanks, Da’.”

“No problem. Anyway, keeping the schedule Keris is teaching you about is important. Beyond showing the men you care, which some commanders don’t, it prevents problems.”

“How’s that?”

“Because ya’ be findin’ out abou’ problems before they bite ya’ in the arse,” Mikus put in.

“What he said. That’s one of the reasons you see me, Keris, and Mikus walking the line every now and then: To see if anything’s wrong. Besides the fact that I actually like most of these people, that is. I mean, they volunteered to follow me all the way down here. The least I can do is check up on them.”

“Wish all commanders felt that way, Donnor,” Keris said.

“Yeah, well, I can only do me.”

Keris grunted. “So anyway, Tommy. Since your da’ here explained it, there’s not much more for me to say. These lessons are important, and they’ll make you a better leader, better than Brookside’s headsmen, anyway,” he trailed off, glancing back over his shoulder. “Anyway, it’s about time to walk the line, so you better get going.”

“Okay, Keris.”

“And don’t forget to pick your nose.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tommy walked away leaving his da’, Mikus, and Keris, chuckling behind him. He’d gotten over his initial embarrassment, but he still didn’t like to be teased. Canner and Sollip were right behind them and had probably heard the whole thing, and Tommy’s fears were confirmed when he noticed their wide grins. Sollip was at least trying to hide his by wiping his nose, but Canner was failing miserably.

“You shut up, too,” Tommy told them.

“Get going, Tommy. If you stay up here, I may piss my pants like Mikus is,” Keris said.

This started off another round of laughter, Tommy deciding to start at the end of the line and hopefully not be a target for a while. He could hear Mikus and Keris joking back and forth as he walked away, something about finding a dragon to keep as a pet. He chose to ignore that, along with the laughing glances coming his way.

The last one in line was Larn, and Tommy stopped to talk to him to make sure he was okay. Him and Werin, the man in front of him, were talking about logging, something about how logs were split into planks. Tommy waved to Ari and the sprites as he stopped to listen, picking up that Werin had been one of the woodworker’s helpers back in Brookside. He asked how they were doing, both saying they were fine before going back to their conversation.

Ahead of them was Martok and Hartok, and he finally got to ask a question he’d been wondering about ever since they’d left Redtail. It turned out that they were indeed related, close cousins as a matter of fact. Hartok wasn’t a leatherworker, though, he was just a simple farmhand whose homestead had been burnt down near Harper’s Creek. They were talking about people they knew, nothing wrong with either of them.

Ahead of them were three of the men who’d joined at Varmen’s Shoal. Caynen, Ost, and Rordin were all originally from Brookside, all farmers, and all subdued. Ost had lost the girl he’d been courting in Brookside, talking to Tommy about how pretty his Bonny was like she’d pop around the corner at any moment. He’d gotten her family’s approval on the match, but they hadn’t married yet. And she’d chosen to stay with her family in Brookside when he’d left to go north to avoid the ondilaan.

Caynen and Rordin had worked the same farm as Ost, and knew each other well, all having grown up with each other. Caynen worked the fields while Rordin had been a pig keeper, and all three of them were friends. Caynen and Rordin were eying Tommy as Ost started talking more and more about his lost Bonny.

Tommy didn’t understand why it was so funny to push people into pig’s slop, but apparently it was, and Rordin asked Ost if he remembered when it’d happened while he laughed. He got a tiny grin out of Ost as Caynen piped in, talking animatedly about something someone else had done ages ago. Tommy eventually caught on to what they were doing when Caynen gestured with his chin further up the line, and Tommy nodded and left while the duo continued doing their best to cheer up their friend.

Gart was next, walking by himself and scratching his head with the tip of his spear, something he always seemed to be doing now and again.

“Aren’t you worried you’ll cut yourself?”

“Oh, hi, Tommy. No, me skin’s tough enough.”

“How come you’re walking by yourself?”

“Ain’t got much to say.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Tommy looked at Gart, taking in his tinted skin. He swore it looked green from time to time, but whatever color it was, it was darker than his own. He screwed up his courage, looking up at the towering man.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.” Tommy just looked at him. “Sorry, what do ya’ want to know?”

“How come your skin’s that color?”

“Ya’ don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Huh. I figured it made the rounds by now.”

“Huh?”

“Well, I’m not as lucky as you.”

“Lucky?”

“Sure. I mean, at least you got elf.”

“Gart, what in the name of the lost gods are you talking about?”

Gart looked at him, screwing up his thick brow while he did so. “You really don’t know, do you?” Tommy just looked at him. “I’m half-blooded, too. Just like you.”

“Really? That makes three of us. Saress is part askilat.”

“Huh. Didn’t know that. Explains the hair.”

“Yeah. What are you?”

Gart frowned, then sighed. “Part orc.”

“Orc!”

“Aye. Shout it to the mountaintops, why don’t you.”

“Gods, Gart. How’d you get to be part orc?”

Gart grinned. “Born that way.”

“Really.”

He cracked a smile. “Yep.”

“Seriously. How’d you get to be part orc. There aren’t any orcs around here.”

“Nope. Closest tribe I’ve heard of lives in the mountains north of the mines. No, my family’s from way off in Ancilar.”

“Ancilar? Where’s that?”

“Months north of here, on the other side of the Peaks.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Born here.” Tommy pinched his lips, and Gart chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it. Naw, it was me great grand-nan who come south, ending up in Harper’s Creek.”

“Long story?”

“Nope, a short one. She kept moving until she found somewhere that didn’t care so much about the color of her skin.”

“Like yours?”

“No. Me nan said she remembered her. She was the first, you know. Truly half an orc. Her skin was green, like a dark-colored plant. It’s lost some of its color over the years, the skin of me family.”

“Faded?”

“No. With every generation born it thins in the blood, nan says. The blood is truer in me brother. He’s greener, has the teeth too.”

“Teeth?”

“Yeah, the teeth.” Gart pulled his lip down exposing thick teeth, including two that were bigger than the rest. “Orcs have tusks, you know. We don’t. Me grand-nan had them, but none of us do. We all have the teeth, though.”

“Huh. So, what’d you get out of it?”

“Trouble.”

“Huh?”

“Tommy, does anybody you know like orcs?”

“Well, no.”

“There ya’ go. Outside of Harper’s Creek, anybody who sees me just thinks I’m an orc and causes a fuss. And if I get upset about it, it just proves their point. I wouldn’t have left the Creek, but me nan asked me ta’ go.”

“How come?”

“Ta’ get help. Our farm was at the base of Rocky Point. You have to know where Rocky Point was. You fished, right?”

“Yeah. We used it as a navigation point.”

“Right, just about everybody does. Anyway, when the rumors about the ondilaan started, nan sent me off to the Hold to ask for help.”

“Why you?”

“I look the most human.”

“Did you have any luck?”

“You remember how the Hold was, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There’s your answer. It was stock full of refugees, and no one had any time for ‘the orc’ askin’ for help.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’. That’s why I said you were lucky. At least you look human.”

“I didn’t even know I was part elf until after we got to the Hold.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Long story?”

“Aye. Very long.” He looked over his shoulder towards Ari while thinking about his da’. “Not mine to tell.”

“Huh. You know, you’re all right, Tommy. I figured you’d be stuck-up, not really havin’ talked to you since joinin’ up.”

“Why’d you join?”

“Wanted to get back home.”

“The reports my da’ and Ari were reading said it was destroyed. Harper’s Creek, that is.”

“I know. Me nan might have missed it, but I don’t know. Our farm was about a day south of the Creek proper.”

“Think they did?”

“Might have. Trust me, me family knows how to hide. There’s not many of us, and we’re wary. Only the people around the Creek really accept us. Me nan’s husband came from Lindendale, the next village up, but beyond that we don’t travel much.”

“Because of the skin?”

“Because of the skin,” Gart agreed.

“There has to be some good from it. I mean, I’m finding I see and hear better than my da’. Apparently, I’ll live longer, too. Saress can smell out pretty much anything, says her reactions are quicker. What’s different about you?”

“That’s pretty direct.”

“Sorry. I mean you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but there has to be something good about it. It can’t be all bad.”

Gart eyed him for a moment, before nodding. “I’ll say it again, Tommy. You’re all right. Not many would say that.”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. Anyway, yes, there are some good things that go along with it. I’m bigger for one, anybody can see that. But my entire family is bigger, and we put on muscle easy, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Me nan has arms as big around as your thighs. Could pick up a pig in one hand.”

“Wow.”

“The other is we’re tough, beyond just the skin. We don’t take injuries easily, and when we do, we heal quick enough. Though, it does leave scars. Big ones.”

“That’s neat.”

“Only you’d think so. Whatever your nan does when you and her heal people keeps ‘em from comin’ out. The scars, that is.”

“Huh.”

“Oh, and my family’s big. All the girls havin’ twins or triplets all the time. Not all the babies make it, but it’s rare one don’t.”

“I thought you said there weren’t many of you.”

“I meant half orcs. I got a big family. There’s nineteen of us back at the farm.”

“Wow. It was only me, my da’, and my mum back home.”

“Yeah. Pretty typical for a human family. Surprised you don’t have any brothers or sisters, though.”

Tommy shrugged. “Never thought about it. What’s it like having a family that big?”

“Busy.” Something caught Gart’s attention. “You’d better get back to walkin’ the line, I can see Keris looking. Probably wondering what you’re doing.”

“Ugh. They’re training me to help him and Mikus.” Tommy shrugged. “More work.”

“Heh. You’d be good at it.”

“Yeah, right. Talk to you later, Gart.”

“Yup.”

Tommy walked further up the line, Haleran, Jenus, and Fan next. He spoke with them for a while, the two newer men asking about the events that happened in Resthaven. Haleran was giving them a pretty accurate report, not embellishing it in the least, while Tak from first rank was walking beside him, egging him on to tell a better story. Haleran was spending most of his time correcting what Tak was saying and looked annoyed at having to do so, while Jenus and Fan looked back and forth between the two of them utterly confused. Not one of them needed anything so Tommy shook his head and finished walking the line. He skipped Canner and Sollip, though, deliberately ignoring their grins when he returned to Keris’s side.

“Took you a while.”

“Aye. Got talking to Gart.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s a good guy; part orc. Was asking him about it.”

“He say anything?”

“Yeah. He said quite a bit actually. I learned a lot.”

“Huh. He’s pretty quiet; doesn’t say much and stays in the background all the time.”

“He’s probably worried. His family didn’t have an easy time of it from what he said. Came all the way from Ancilar.”

“He did?”

“No, his great grandmother did, by the way he tells it.”

Mikus spit. “Prob’ly a rape from one a tha’ tribes in tha’ pass.”

“Huh?”

“Yer’ da’ worked tha’ route: caravans from Sirikii, ta’ Ancilar, an’ beyond. The caravans be goin’ through tha’ pass there, an’ common folk be usin’ it too. The Peaks be full o’ tribes o’ orcs an’ other things, an’ tha’ blasted orcs like ta’ be rapin’ ‘ya before they eat ya’.”

“What!”

“Aye. An’ tha’ people up there be hatin’ ‘em rightly fer’ it. My folk been hatin’ tha’ orcs with a fury fer’ as long as we can remember, tha’ bastards always be tryin’ ta’ get inta’ me clanhold. Anyway, it be explainin’ wha’ he’s doin’ down here.”

“How’s that?”

“If ya’ look like an orc, ya’ be an orc in Ancilar, an’ anywhere else around there, too. His kin woulda’ been hunted down jus’ fer’ tha’ color o’ their skin.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, Tommy, he’s not,” Keris replied. “In the Hold we knew all about there being a family of half orcs in Harper’s Creek. People worried about them, too, but we knew better. I heard Lord Maorilan’s grandfather put an end to most of the talk about them not long after they arrived, and they’ve been there for a couple generations now. They work hard, never cause trouble, and mind their own business. But every now and then some idiot wants us to go kill off the ‘orcs’ that live in the forests down there, so the guard always checks in on them whenever we patrol that way. The mayor from Harper’s Creek loves them, that’s one of the reasons why we never paid the complaints any mind.”

“I can’t believe it. I mean, besides the fact that he stinks when he sweats, he’s a nice guy.”

“To you, Tommy.”

“Aye, ta’ ya’, lad. But there be a whole world a’ people out there who be lookin’ fer’ an excuse ta’ be hurtin’ som’un jus’ fer’ bein’ different.”

“That’s horrible.”

“Aye. But it be tha’ way o’ tha’ world, an’ ya’ can only be in charge o’ yerself. Can’t be changin’ anyone who already be thinkin’ tha’ way.”

“I never knew.”

“Aye, I be knowin’ ya’ don’. Why do ya’ think we stopped in Lakeside in tha’ first place? Beyond it bein’ outta’ tha’ way, tha’ people there were acceptin’ me an’ me family. It’s no’ tha’ way everywhere else in tha’ world.”

“Huh.”

Conversation dwindled off, and Tommy spent the rest of the day at the front of the line learning about this or that thing. The fact that Tommy needed to walk his dragon made the rounds, spreading quickly throughout the troop. And everyone poked a little bit at him, all in good fun, which he eventually got over as the day went on.

Later in the day they started approaching the edge of a forest that disappeared off to the north, the tops of the distant trees swaying in the breeze. Birdsong grew around them as they got closer to the wood, with flocks of small songbirds leaping into the air as they passed. The fluttering of their wings reverberated through the air as they swung this way and that, the birds winging away from the troop and heading off towards the trees.

Saress smiled watching the birds take flight. She’d been walking at the front of the line for a while now, ever since coming back to report the approaching woods. And she’d been quiet, just like she always was, walking along at his side and listening to Keris continue his instruction.

“You like the birds?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. Their lives are simple and free,” Saress replied.

Tommy looked at the retreating flock, catching flashes of color from time to time in their plumage. “Is that blue?”

“Yes, Tomilanthus. They are called blue tips in your tongue … birds of the meadows ...”

“Huh?”

“They live in the meadows around here. There was an aviary in Sirikii, I learned about them there.”

“What’s that?”

“What is what, young mage?”

“An aviary.”

Saress chuckled. “You do have a lot to learn, don’t you?” She grinned, quirking an eyebrow. “An aviary is a giant cage of bars so fine as to be like thick hairs. Trees and plants are inside, along with fountains of splashing water. The caretakers keep birds of many types and colorations inside the cage. Some go there to study, others to simply sit and find peace.”

“Sounds pretty.”

“It was. I spent much of my time there while not on duty.”

“Aye, no surprise there,” Mikus drawled.

Tommy looked back and forth between the two. Mikus’s grin getting bigger the more Saress’s ears bent.

Saress pinched her lips, looking imperiously at him. “Something you want to say, Master Dwarf?”

“Oh, don’ be getting’ yer’ knickers in a twist. Ya’ gotta’ admit, it be funny.”

“At least I could see over the rail.”

“Oh, damn. Ya’ wound me.” Mikus grinned while clutching his chest. “No’ another jest at me height. What’s a dwarf gonna’ do?”

“Hopefully trip and fall while you’re paying attention to other people’s conversations.”

“Meh. At least I don’ have tha’ far down ta’ go. How’d they tear ya’ away? Give ya’ some ‘nip?”

“No one would dare,” Saress replied, looking balefully down at grinning dwarf.

“Ya’ look a little piqued, now tha’ I think abou’ it. I bet tha’ sprites could be findin’ ya’ some.”

“And I can find some rocks for you. Do they remind you of home? Family? Your head?”

Mikus laughed.

Saress made a big production out of choosing a rock in the path, the path being littered with stones. Then she exaggerated stepping on one of them, twisting her foot on it while she did so. “Oh, no! There went another one … I think I killed it. A countryman of yours?” she asked, sweetly.

Mikus laughed while Saress grinned. “A good one, lass. Though I still think I’ll be gettin’ tha’ sprites ta’ get ya’ some ‘nip in tha’ mornin’. Yer’ a bit testy, need ta’ relax.” He grinned.

“What are you two talking about?” Tommy asked, thoroughly confused.

“Are ya’ dense, lad?” Mikus asked, incredulously.

“Ignore him, young mage.”

“What?” Tommy asked.

“She’s bein’ half cat!”

“Askilat,” Saress mumbled.

“Huh?”

“A cat? Spendin’ her time where they be keepin’ birds? Needin’ tha’ ‘nip ta’ get in a good mood? Ya’ no’ think tha’s funny?” Mikus demanded.

“Again, ignore him young mage. The dwarf thinks he’s clever. There’s not much room for brains in a head that small.”

“Oi. I think her tail be lashin’. Watch out, lad, she bites,” he said, another grin splitting his face.

Saress hissed at him, then grinned.

Keris came back from walking the line. “You two at it again?”

“Aye. I offered ta’ get her some ‘nip, but she keeps refusin’.”

“By the gods, Mikus. Really?”

“Needs ta’ be feedin’ her addiction, she be. She’ll be gettin’ mad if she don’. Besides, she gets all cute-like rollin’ aroun’ on tha’ ground after sniffin’ tha’ plant. We need ta’ be gettin’ her some.”

“I’ll roll you around on the ground if you even come near me with that plant. You’d be more at home down there, anyway.”

“Oh, aye. Ya’ offerin’?”

Keris put his face in his hand, covering a grin. “Knock it off you two. There are children present.”

“Ach, it’s okay, Keris. Saress’ll be rollin’ him around on tha’ ground after me, once she be sniffin’ tha’ nip. She’ll be purrin’ an’ tha’ like while she do it, too. It’ll do tha’ boy good.”

Saress pursed her lips, then deliberately pulled her dagger and started cleaning her nails. Mikus grinned, then grinned some more when she rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that,” she said. Mikus laughed.

“Is he after you again, Saress?” Donnor asked, walking up.

“He wouldn’t know what to do with me if he got me.”

“That bad, huh?”

“I been thinkin’ I could be teachin’ ya’ some while we be rollin’ aroun’.” Mikus drawled.

“Pretty sure you wouldn’t measure up,” Saress quipped.

“Damn. Straight ta’ tha’ heart wi’ tha’ one.” Mikus grinned.

“They’re at it again, Commander.”

“I’ll ‘commander’ you Keris,” his da’ said. “Damn guardsman always being official … Anyway, go see if you can find us a place for the night, Saress. Preferably in the trees, if you can.”

“Yes, Donnor,” she said, rolling her eyes at Mikus one last time.

“An’ don’ get lost lookin’ fer’ yer’ ‘nip!” Mikus called after her as she trotted away.

“She’s going to stab you, you know,” Donnor said.

“Eh. She be too uptight. Been needin’ ta’ relax.”

“Still say she’s going to stab you.”

“Aye. But it’ll be fun till it happens.”

Donnor shook his head. “Tommy, Ari’s asking for you. Head on back and let her know that if Saress stabs Mikus, it wasn’t my fault.”

“Hey!” Mikus complained.

Tommy grinned. “Aye Da’.” He heard his da’ say “… you started it,” as he left, Mikus protesting his innocence.

“Have you had a good day?” Ari asked as he walked up.

“Aye.”

“I heard it was a little boring.”

Tommy eyed her. “A little …” Ari grinned. “Not you too.”

One of the sprites walked up to Tommy, grinning. Then the sprite patted him on the shoulder and chittered to him for a while, while the rest of the sprites laughed.

“What did he say, Dap?”

Dap chuckled. “Chabat says the ch’ten has decided they are honored to guard the mother of the great dragon walker.”

Tommy groaned while the sprites laughed, Ari tittering along with them. “That is so unfair,” he grumped.

“Tomilanthus, it is an uncomfortable truth that when one achieves greatness, those inspired by your deeds grant you titles and names …”

“Seriously?” Tommy protested.

“Tell me, Tomilanthus,” she asked, innocently, “how did you get the dragon to take to heel?”

Tommy glared at her while the sprites laughed again, Dap having translated the entire thing.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”

“No, probably not,” Ari said, laughter dancing in her eyes.

“Damn.”

The troop came to a halt, the sprites chuckling and chittering back and forth in their tongue. Tommy was doing his best to not stay grumpy when Canner trotted back.

“Lady? The commander asks that you try to be more quiet.”

“He does, does he?” she asked, arching one eyebrow.

“Yes, my Lady. We’ve found the road.”

The Old Road

His da’ decided they were not going to camp in the woods. They stood at the forest’s edge for about a half an hour before the decision was made, remaining in column while Saress and her people scouted amongst the trees. Tensions rose as everyone wondered what was going on since Donnor had everyone stay as quiet as they could, but it turned out there just wasn’t a good place to make camp. So, his da’ positioned everyone up against the trees to help block the wind for the night.

After watching the fires blow and struggle in the breeze, Ost taught them a new trick. He dug a large wide hole about as deep as his boot in the meadowed plain, and then a smaller one an arm’s length away. He connected the two by digging out a tunnel just big enough to stick his arm through underneath the ground, then used the dirt he’d removed to pile up around the edges of the larger hole. Then, he filled the bigger one with sticks, and used a shovel to carry burning branches from another fire to add to it.

The flames caught quickly, burning merrily below the level of the ground while the wind gusted above. Saress paid close attention, the rest of the men did too, and soon every fire was moved into pits like Ost’s. The man received many thanks for teaching them this new trick, and the troop gratefully warmed their hands against the wind.

While all this was going on, Mikus and Keris set the watches, doubling their normal size in response to what they’d found. Every watch group had at least one archer and two spears, and his da’ concentrated most of them just inside the forest’s edge. Because not a bowshot, maybe a bow shot and a half, from where they camped was where the old road ran.

The road itself was definitely overgrown, with small saplings growing up out of the track here and there. Tommy was surprised to see the saplings weren’t bigger, and said as much to Dap. Dap translated that the hard-packed earth of the road slowed the spread of nature’s attempt to reclaim it. So, what Tommy expected to find, a completely overgrown track that was barely discernable from the forest around it, was not what was there.

The road was wide, easily wide enough for the artock’s new wagon, and maybe even another one as well. And it appeared at one point in the past there had been attempts to line the edge of the road with stone. But the stones were scattered and missing now, Tommy tripping over one of them and almost falling face first into the signs of the ondilaan’s passing.

Those signs were their scat, and their scat was everywhere. Many, many feet had trampled the grass that was attempting to reclaim the road, and it looked like they’d randomly cut into the trees as they went. Some of the trees had fallen, some were scarred, while other were clawed as if an animal had marked its territory. And as Tommy gazed north and south along the road, he could see the same random marks haphazardly scattered about as far as he could see.

There was a lot of chittering going on as the sprites moved back and forth to examine the tracks. “Donnor, Ahton suggests we scout the road,” Dap translated.

“I agree. Saress, do you speak sprite?”

“No.”

“Dap, go get Lari or Rast and bring one of them here; Saress, you’re going to need a translator. Once they get here, you go one way with some sprites, Ahton will go the other. Go quietly and go unseen for about an hour, then get back here before it gets too dark.”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

Dap returned with Rast. Then Ahton and Saress split the ch’ten, each taking their halves and trotting off along the road.

“Why’d you send them, Da’?”

“Between them, they’ll never be seen unless they want to.”

“Huh?”

“Sprites are all but invisible in the woods, Tommy,” Keris said. “We keep trying to get Pipit to volunteer some of his people to help the Redtail Guard as scouts, but he always declines.”

“Pipit?”

“Pipit Brightleaf? The sprite representative to Lord Maorilan? I’m pretty sure he was at the meeting while you were at the lord’s table, back when you first got to Redtail.”

“Yeah, he was,” Tommy agreed, remembering the friendly, tawny-haired sprite.

“Anyway, in the woods and natural places they blend right in; they barely have to think about it from what I’m told. Lord Maorilan has been trying to get them to help us out for ages, but Pipit always declines.”

“How come?”

“How would I know? I’m just a guardsman, Tommy. I mean, rumor has it there’s some kind of treaty between us and the sprites of the northern forests, but I have no idea what it is. They mostly just bring in meat a couple of times a year and warn us about wandering beasts.”

“Oh.”

“But these sprites? The ch’ten? They’re wild.”

“They are, Keris, but don’t tell them that. They might poison you,” his da’ joked. “I don’t know much about sprites, but I do know they don’t like to be called ‘wild’.”

“I’ll remember.”

“Aye. But tha’ wild sprites be sly, tha’s fer’ sure. Be like tryin’ ta’ see tha’ wind. Look there,” Mikus pointed. “Can ye even be seein’ ‘em?”

“No,” Keris looked south. “But they’re long gone, Mikus.”

“Nope. Look now.” Mikus gestured, and a clump of brush stood up becoming a member of the ch’ten while the sprite moved cautiously forward. Tommy noticed the sprite only moved whenever the wind blew, then stopped when it stopped. Then the sprite became a bush once again when he paused to look out over the meadow. He’d decorated himself with grass and leaves, the foliage sticking out of his clothes in random directions that seemed completely natural whenever he stopped moving.

“Damn. That’s amazing,” Keris remarked.

“Aye. An’ he be barely tryin’. Prob’ly only grabbed tha’ stuff as he went.”

“Wow. Can they teach all of us to do that, Da’?”

“Sure. You got a year?”

Mikus grunted. “Yer’ havin’ too much on yer’ plate as it be, lad. Tha’ sprites be naturals at movin’ through tha’ wild places. Sure, they can be teachin’ ya’, but it be hard ta’ learn.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Had a friend who was a ranger fer’ me clan. Lived wi’ ‘em fer’ three seasons before they were sayin’ he was havin’ tha’ basics down.”

“And we don’t have that kind of time.” Donnor paused, looking south in silence. “Mikey, this road worry’s me.”

“Aye. Be like a great mountain o’ a sign sayin’ ‘go this way’.”

“Yup.”

They all stared and watched, listening to the wind. Tommy looked for the sprites but didn’t see anything except a path of trampled grass that disappeared into the distance that marked the road.

“Keris? Are you sure this road isn’t kept up anymore?” Donnor asked.

“Yep. The local people use it to take their wares to Varmen’s Shoal or Harper’s Creek, to ship to the Hold. You can see the cart tracks over there. But keep it up like it was? Clear all the way to Resthaven? No. Halbaad wasn’t kidding; it’s completely overgrown in places. You remember the woods around Resthaven.”

“Yeah. But Keris, this looks like a lot more ondilaan than we ever fought went through.”

“Well, we basically fought an army.”

“No’ even close, Keris. No’ even close.” Mikus spat.

“Huh?”

“Lad, tha’ bastards we were killin’ in Resthaven would no’ even make a company o’ tha’ host.”

“You’re kidding”

“No, he’s not.”

“Donnor, the entire complement of the Redtail Guard is only two hundred men when we’re at full strength, and the guard hasn’t been at full strength for years. We protect this entire area. The mine guards add a hundred more, but they only escort the caravans to Devalket and patrol the pass. That’s a huge amount of people under arms.”

“For this area, sure.”

“Huh?”

“Me clan be havin’ thousands under arms, Keris. All tha’ time. Every day o’ tha’ year.”

“What for?”

“Ta’ keep wha’ be ours. Tha’ orcs be wantin’ what’s ours above ground, tha’ goblins be wantin’ tha’ same below. Not a year goes by we’re no’ fightin’ somun’ somewhere. They no’ all be battles an’ war mind ya’, but it be fightin’ all tha’ same. Why you be thinkin’ yer’ king always be sendin’ men down ta’ Akreesha?”

“I dunno. The major houses always complain about it from what I hear. I figured it was just because it’s on the southern edge of the kingdom.”

“An’ it be. But it be an ancient fortress tha’ be kept up as best yer’ king can do, an’ full ‘o yer’ king’s soldiers it be. They be there ta’ fight, an’ fight they do … every year.”

“We all do, fight that is. The ondilaan aren’t the only ones who raid.”

“Aye, but do ya’ be hearin’ abou’ tha’ fightin’ down near Akreesha?”

“Well, no.”

“No, ye don’. An there be reasons fer’ tha’, too. But Donnor here can be tellin’ ya’ more about tha’.”

“I can, but this conversation is getting a little far afield. Gentlemen, I want reinforced watches tonight, all night, and a lot of them. The ondilaan can use this road to move quickly, and they seem to prefer the night as it is. I don’t want any surprises.”

“Aye, Donnor.”

“I’m hoping there’s an obvious path or road to Silverlake, but I’m worried about Silverlake if there is.” Donnor sighed, looking off into the distance. “Those fire holes Ost made sure help decrease our presence,” he mumbled.

“Aye. Tha’ they do,” Mikus said.

“Tommy head back and ask Ari if you can keep the lights down during your practice tonight. I don’t want anyone seeing us out in the open. I’m going to stay here and wait for Saress and the sprites to return.”

“Ye worryin’?”

“You know me.”

“Aye. C’mon lads, let’s head back.”

Mikus led them back to the troop, leaving his da’ standing in the middle of the road, staring off to south. Despite his da’s mood, the troop seemed in good spirits with talk and banter going on all around. A couple of the archers were off to the side shooting at bundles of grass, while Gart and Larn were showing some of the newer men how best to hold a spear.

“I better go deal with that,” Keris said, looking at Gart.

“Aye. I better be doin’ tha’ same,” Mikus said, eyeing Nalin with Feya and Deya. The three of them were sparring in turns, stabbing out at each other with the butts of their spears. Kordin was picking himself up off the ground, sputtering while Deya tittered, apparently having knocked him down.

“I’ll see you then,” Tommy said.

“See you, Tommy,” Keris replied for both of them as Tommy walked back towards the artock.

Tonat and the little sprite girl were there, the child happily tossing another mage globe in the air. Ari was watching the girl play with a gentle smile on her face while Tonat fussed with something in the pot.

“Ari, Da’ asked if we could keep the lights down when we practice tonight. The old road’s right over there; maybe half a bow shot through the trees.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “It looks like a ton of ondilaan went through.”

“Anything recent?”

“He didn’t say. Saress left north with some sprites while the rest went south with Ahton. Da’ said for them to turn around and come back in an hour. I’m pretty sure he’s going to stay there until they come back.”

Ari pinched her lips, looking off towards the road through the trees. “He’s worrying.”

“Mikus said the same thing.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do about it now. Tonat is making dinner, so why don’t you update your chronicle while we wait.”

“I’d rather not.”

“I know you don’t, Tomilanthus. But you also know you should.”

“Ugh. Fine. Let me get it off the wagon.”

Tommy moved to the wagon, rooting through it before remembering that it was still in his backpack right there on his back. Feeling like an idiot, he returned to the fire, putting his pack down before opening the protective case. Taking out his book, he dipped his quill into the ink and began to write.

Day 221 - We are camping for the night at the edge of a forest. The old road is a little ways through the trees, and it looks like a lot of ondilaan used it. We are keeping the lights down because da’ is worried about the ondilaan seeing us. He’s on the road now, waiting for Saress and the sprites to return. They are scouting the road, and I wonder if they’ll find anything. Tonat is making dinner again, and it smells good.

It was annoying having to keep the record, but at least he wasn’t making huge ink blots on the pages anymore. And he didn’t need to ask how to spell things as much, which usually got Ari annoyed.

He was about to write more when the sprite girl ambled up and held out her globe, then chittered to Tommy pointing at his book. She smiled and plopped down beside him, poking one finger at his quill while she looked at him expectantly.

He studied her while she made finger motions towards his book, chittering away. “Ari, do you know what she’s saying?”

“I think she wants to draw.”

“Huh.” So, he cast some sand on what he had written, waited a moment for it to dry, then turned to the last page. Then putting the empty book on the ground in front of the young sprite, he handed her the quill. The girl chittered happily, then plunked the quill into the inkwell and started sloppily scribbling away all over the page.

Tonat rushed over frowning, sharply whistling and barking at the young girl. The girl froze, but Ari calmly said, “It’s all right, Tonat.” Then she chittered brokenly, before repeating “It’s okay.”

Tonat looked dubiously towards Ari, but scrubbed her hands on her cloth before sternly instructing the girl about something. The girl nodded, face serious, before delicately dipping the quill back into the ink. Then she stopped, looking at Tonat for permission before receiving a nod, then she went back to drawing, much neater than before.

“I think Tonat is worried about your book.” Ari smiled.

He noticed Tonat back at the pot, stirring and keeping an eye on the girl. “I think so too. Can’t I just give her the book?” he asked. Ari just looked at him, so he sighed. “Fine,” he complained.

“Since it looks like your writing is done for the night, let’s get some practice in.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, without being able to make any light, our options are limited. Let’s work on protecting ourselves during tonight’s Tol’An. Saress and I have been discussing it, and have some ideas. Come, sit.”

Tommy moved over to Ari, sitting in front of her and touching his knees to her own. He settled in, getting comfortable as the sprite girl chittered happily away beside them.

“Okay, let’s begin. I’ve noticed the easiest way to force control is to smother your pathways with my Tol like a blanket, all at once. It’s similar to a binding, at least the one used on me, but there are noticeable differences. Saress suggested trying a tactic of the J’al’osil for you to use to combat it. Attempt to pierce my Tol in random places by striking hard and fast at what I do. Concentrate your efforts on small, pinpoint attacks, and strike out randomly. Then push your Tol out through any breaks you see. This may prevent me from being able to overwhelm your pathways and take control … but we’ll see.

“Again, attempt to stop me. I realize your control is limited, but this practice is building your pathways very quickly. No one in the Vale trains this way so we’re learning as we go, and even I am learning things. Oh, and if your Tol does what it did before, allow it to happen. I’d like a chance to examine it, if I can.”

“Sure, but I’m really not doing anything. It just happens.” Tommy shrugged.

“You have to be doing something, Tomilanthus, at least on some level. Your Tol is you; it’s not separate from you. Come, let us begin.”

And with her final statement, he felt the warm waves of her Tol reach out to him. He did the same, reaching out and allowing her to enter him while she allowed his Tol to enter her in return, and they sat there for a time, relaxing while surrounded by their comingling Tol.

It was odd to think he’d only been doing this for about a month now, Tommy thought. And as he inexpertly travelled his inner pathways, he could pick out the changes that’d taken place. Where his pathways had been meandering streams of light before, they had some order and sense to their flow now. Some had even begun to take on structure and definition in places, no longer just randomly appearing as they had been. It reminded him of something, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, so he flashed his Tol to get Ari’s attention to ask her about it.

“Ari? What’s this?”

“Hmmmm? That? That is one of your pathways.”

“I know that. I mean this part, here. Why is it different?”

“Definition, Tomilanthus. That is the definition we are striving for when we practice.”

“How’s that?”

“Have you ever known someone who is very strong?”

“Sure, Gart is.”

“Yes, excellent example. Can you see Gart’s muscles?”

“Sure, they bulge out. Heck, he’s more muscular than anyone I know.”

“Correct. What you are seeing is basically your Tol’s muscles developing. The definition in your pathways is a sign of that happening.”

“But I’m not doing anything. How’d it do that?”

“Oh, but you are, Tomilanthus. You are. Every time you help me, you are exercising your Tol. Every time we play catch with the globes, you exercise your Tol. And every time we do this, you are exercising your Tol.”

“Huh. I remember you saying that, but I thought I was just to working on control so I don’t hurt myself.”

“That is correct. The definition, however, is a result of our practice. But there is more to it. See here.” Ari flashed her Tol near one of his pathways. “This one is near your core. See how it narrows? The narrowing prevents the smooth flow of your Tol. Now look here.” Another flash. “Here your pathway is taking on definition. See how it’s wider? More defined? This allows the Tol to flow free.”

Tommy looked at this inner system of lights and sighed. “I have a lot of narrow bits.”

Ari smiled. “Yes. But everyone who is just starting out does.”

He looked through their connection, seeing the wide crystalline rivers of her inner labyrinth of light. They were almost blinding to look at when compared to his own, all of them shining with the greenish-gold radiance of her Tol.

“How long did it take you to get yours set?”

“I will tell you a secret, Tomilanthus.” She gently smiled once more. “I am still setting them, and I always will be.”

“Huh?”

“Tomilanthus, we can stop now with what you’ve done. Your pathways are minimally set, and as long as you never use your Tol again you will be fine. But the problem is, you can never use it. And you are powerful, my son; your potential is tremendous. For you to never use your Tol again would be like the sun never rising, or like trying not to breathe. You use it without thinking about it. All the powerful ones are this way.”

“What are you talking about? I don’t do anything except when I’m with you.”

“Yet you used it just moments ago.”

“Huh?”

“To look inside me; to look at my Tol and my inner pathways. That was you actively using your Tol, and you didn’t even think about it, you just did it. There are people who have studied for years who still can’t do what you did. That is what I meant when I said you do things without thinking about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Seeing people’s pathways is that big of a deal?”

“To do it without knowing how? Yes. To just see what you have? No. But it still uses your Tol, and you are doing it without realizing it.”

“Huh.” He smiled. “That’s great!” He thought about it some more. “Maybe I really can do this.”

“I’m sure you can.” Ari smiled. “Which is why I’m teaching you, and why we practice. But come, Tomilanthus, we still have more practice to do. Gather your Tol here.” She pulsed her Tol near his core.

“But if I’ve been doing things without realizing it, I wonder what else I could do.” Tommy grinned, bouncing his Tol around inside them. His Tol ricocheted off of one of Ari’s pathways as he bounced around, a shower of sparks flying from the impact.

“Stop that,” Ari said, distractedly. “We must practice. Bring your Tol here,” she requested again, pulsing her Tol once more.

Tommy grinned, forming a mage globe inside him. The heck with practice! I want to have some fun, he thought. Sparks flew as he bounced off her pathways here and there, running amok inside her. So, she formed her own globe and chased after him, a slight annoyance emanating from her Tol.

“Tag,” he teased, bouncing his globe off of hers before darting back into his body. He led her on a merry chase, sparks flying everywhere as he flew around inside their bodies, his globe crashing recklessly over, under, and through their pathways. He laughed as he bounced of her globe and darted away once more.

“Don’t get too confident, my son, you have a lot to learn.”

“Huh? You said no one trains like this and we’re learning as we go. This is fun! Watch this!” Tommy said, looping around a pathway and then speeding past her globe.

“Just because no one trains like we do, doesn’t mean there’s nothing I can do. I think it’s time I showed you what studying and hard work can achieve.”

He took a quick turn around his core, the distance between them growing. “Ha! Come on. Chase me! You’re not even trying. Bet you can’t catch me!” He grinned.

“Oh, Tommy, you have so much to learn,” Ari said, shaking her head.

He could feel her Tol building, a lot of Tol, before she quickly closed the distance once more. “Uhhh, Ari?” he asked, retreating as he tried to figure out what she was doing. She sure is using a lot of Tol ...

“Things that come too easily …” She sighed, shaking her head. A new tone had entered her voice that reminded him of how Mum sounded when he was about to get in trouble. He backed his globe away as whatever she was doing built towards its crescendo, then an endless multitude of globes appeared in the greens and golds of her Tol.

“Ari?” he repeated nervously, darting this way and that, trying to find a place to hide.

“Sometimes lessons need learned …” she said, one of her globes flashing out and striking his own in a quick shower of sparks.

“Ari?” he squeaked. That hurt!

“… Lessons about our limitations ...”

“Owww!” he exclaimed as another globe hit him.

“… So, we don’t get cocky.”

“I’m not getting cocky!” he protested as his globe streaked away, trying to avoid the armada that was now pursuing him.

“Come now, Tomilanthus, there is no reason to get excited. It’s only a game.” Her forces were splitting up, trying to surround his globe.

“Ari!” Tommy objected as he tried to dissolve his globe, but Ari dis something that prevented him from doing so. He was forced to scramble away as another globe came in.

“I like this game,” she mentioned, grinning while she chased after him. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Suddenly, a squadron of green and gold globes flew towards him, the slightest pinch accompanying each one that struck his globe. Tommy jetted away, bouncing off his internal pathways in a shower of sparks while more green and gold globes moved to intercept.

“Ari!”

“Do try to get away.” Ari grinned, eyes twinkling.

He could feel her Tol laughing at him while she hunted his globe down. Countless green and gold pinpoints of light flew all around, chasing him like a swarm of bees. His smoky globe desperately danced and darting about, careening recklessly off their inner pathways accompanied by showers of sparks.

His Tol rose up inside him, a dark thundercloud in the distance. It seemed annoyed like it was upset at being awoken, but it did absolutely nothing beyond look at what was taking place. Then it was as if it crossed its arms and shook its head at him, not defending him in the least.

“Ari! Owww!” he complained, feeling betrayed as another flotilla of green and gold lights descended upon his globe. A barely perceptible sliver of light flew from her globes, each one followed by a pinch every time it made contact. He scrambled away, running from the silvery sparks shooting from her globes.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you? I must say, I really do enjoy this game. It’s educational,” she teased.

“Ari!”

“Yes, dear?” she said, distractedly. “I never thought to do this with a globe before … I wonder …”

“Owww! Ari! Stop! I don’t know what I’m doing!”

“It’s just a game.” She smiled.

“I can’t do this!”

“Come now, Tomilanthus. You told me just a bit ago that you could.” Her armada was everywhere, countless silver sparks shooting his way.

“I’m not ready for this!” he cried, trying to find a place to hide.

“That hasn’t stopped you before.” She smiled as rods of golden light started flashing by, accompanying the silver sparks.

“Ari!”

He ducked under a junction in his pathways, taking shelter where he could. Another rain of silver sparks flew in, several striking his globe. Then a barrage of golden bars struck the pathway he was hiding under, ringing it like a gong. The impact buffeted his globe, knocking him out of his hiding place, so he squirted away.

“This is fun, Tomilanthus. I wonder why we never did this in college …”

“Owww!” he complained as a barrage of sparks struck his newly exposed globe. He darted off in a panicked flight, her armada shooting silver and gold light everywhere. He swore he heard the dark thundercloud of his Tol sigh in disappointment while it disappeared back to wherever it came from. Thanks!

“Do try harder, dear,” Ari said sweetly. “I wonder what will happen if I do this …” she said, tapping a finger to her lips.

“Ari!” Tommy scrambled away while she grinned, an armada of light chasing after him.

Sella

“Sella, girl. You’re back.”

“Hello, Dira,” she said. Sella was exhausted and shut the door behind her with a dull thump.

“Shhhhh! Faltor’s asleep.”

“Sorry.”

Sella’d been hoping Dira wasn’t going to be there, sick of the way Dira had been looking at her. Gods, why couldn’t she leave me alone? And she’d been feeling that way ever since Ari, Donnor, and Tommy had left, all those weeks ago.

She’d gotten the room they all shared from Daris Sintletin, owner of the Happy Cup. Sella’d started out by singing in the inn, waiting tables, and generally helping out, but now she was being called on to sing in the Hold as well. It was doubling her duties, and she was working long hours almost every day as a result.

Sella was convinced her feet were about to fall off, removing her slippers so she could sit. And she hissed when she pressed her thumb between her toes. All she’d wanted was some time alone. At least downstairs in the inn she felt wanted, she’d never really felt that way at home.

“Where have you been, girl?” Dira whispered. “We’ve been worried sick.”

“The Hold.”

“Again?”

“Yes, Dira. It’s what I do.”

“Your place is here! What’re you doing at the Hold?”

“Singing for the lord.”

“The lord? That’s twice in two days!”

“Aye. That right demanding bitch of his household, Tessa, she’s having me sing to him and that elf prince whenever they meet.”

“Watch your language!” Dira hissed, glancing at her son. He was sleeping soundly, and Dira waited a minute before speaking again. “You’ve met the prince? I’ve never seen one of the fair folk besides Arisaylia.”

“They’re fair folk all right, Dira. They all are.” She smiled, remembering the dresses some of the women who escorted the prince wore. “The prince is a pretty one, too.”

“You watch yourself, Sella.”

“And why’s that, Dira?” she asked, rubbing a knot in the arch of her foot.

“They won’t be putting up with your ways there.”

“My ways?”

“We all know your ways, girl. You’ve done good by us with your singing and helping out around here, but I’m not forgetting your ways.”

“You don’t know a thing,” Sella muttered.

Dira watched her in silence, cocking an eyebrow before she huffed. “You use men, girl. We all know it.”

“Use them?”

“Aye, use them.” Dira glared.

“I always knew you were a bitch, Dira.”

“Better a bitch than … whatever you be.”

“And just what is that?”

Dira just rolled her eyes. “You’d know better than me. Singing for the prince and the lord …” Dira shook her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Two more pretty targets for you to use before you throw them away.”

“Damn you, Dira, I don’t use men! How can you think that?”

“Because you act like it!” She glanced towards Faltor. “Thrusting your chest in the men’s faces. Letting them feel your legs, your arse. Wearing those dresses that show what the gods gave you.”

“I like to feel pretty!”

“We all do! But there’s being pretty and then there’s you!” Dira gestured, waving her hand up and down her length.

“Damn you, Dira! Do you want to go back to the warehouse? Did you like it? I work myself to death to keep this room! Do you know how hard it is to keep one? Especially now, since that battle the other day?”

“No.” Dira sighed, pinching her lips. “Nobody wants to be going back there and we’re all grateful, but by the gods I don’t like how you’re earning it.”

“Then stop complaining. I do what I have to. Besides, it got you that job in the kitchens.” Sella huffed, doing everything she could to keep from screaming. There was no way she’d ever convince her, and there’d never been.

“Do what you have to, huh? And you’re not enjoying it? Not even a little bit?” Dira sneered. “That’s shite. I’ve seen the way you smile at them, stringing them along.”

“I don’t string anyone along!”

“The gods you don’t! You don’t even have the shame to avoid the ones sitting right beside their wives! Singing to them like you’re promised!”

“I sing! Who cares? It’s all part of the act!”

“The act?” Dira chuckled, snidely. “Smiling those smiles of promise like you do. Like a lover you look at them! Their wives at their side! Don’t you have any shame?”

“Shame? For what? A smile?

“Aye, a smile. Phaw. One of those smiles the reason why you’re coming in so late? Spent the night with a new ‘friend’, did you? Shopping for better room?”

Sella’s eyes went cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean.” She paused as Faltor shifted in his sleep.

“No, Dira, I don’t. Say it. Put words to it. I dare you.”

Sella was furious, glaring at Dira, thinking back to the way it had been back in Lakeside. How the other women had stopped talking whenever she came around, then started whispering whenever she left. At least Sella had always been welcome at Yella’s house; Yella’s family never treating her any different. Ari never did either, now that she thought about it, and she’d never forgotten the time Ari told her she was pretty.

“I won’t be saying any such thing. What you do with yourself is your own business.”

“What? Can’t say it to my face? Can’t say you think I’m sleeping with every man out there? Sharing their sheets to get my way?”

“You’re saying it, not I.”

“Is that what you think of me?” Sella demanded.

“It’s not just me!” Dira snapped. “They all know!”

“What! What have you done? Are you spreading rumors like the rest of those bitches back in Lakeside?”

“You shut your damned mouth! And I don’t have to, bless their poor dead souls.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You do it to yourself!” Dira’s face flushed with anger. “Spreading your legs for anything with a cock! Been doing it for years! They already know!” She thrust her hand towards the common room.

“I do not!”

“Keep your voice down! Yes, you do! I know you’ve had it rough, girl, being passed from house to house since your mum and dad died, but you don’t have to do what you do! And you didn’t have to sleep with old man Hart to get him to take you in!”

“Hart!” She stared at Dira incredulously. “I didn’t sleep with Hart!”

“That’s crap! And you’re knowing it, too! You barely had your first moon blood when he started strutting around with you at his side. And there you were, staying at his house and serving his beer! He was three times your age!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

“Bloody fish guts you didn’t! Wearing those dresses of yours to make your tits hang out …” Dira’s voice dripped with derision. “You didn’t sleep with him? Hah. You think we didn’t know?”

“I didn’t sleep with him!”

“That’s shite! Crap and shite! And damn you lying about it, too!”

“I’m not lying!”

“Mom?”

“Hush now, Faltor.” Dira’s gentle voice was totally at odds with the glare she gave Sella. “We were just talking, dear. I’m sorry we woke you.”

“It’s okay, mom. Oh, hi, Sella. Can you sing me a song?” He knuckled his eyes then rolled over, looking at her sleepily.

“Sure, Faltor. Which one do you want?”

“The one you sang that night to the elf with the fancy clothes. The one at the feast.” Faltor yawned.

“Which song was that?”

“The one about the boy and the pretty girl. The funny one,” came his sleepy voice.

Dira frowned, and Sella knew full well she’d listened from the kitchens that night. The only song that fit Faltor’s description was a bawdy ballad she’d sung while strutting about, teasing everyone in the room. Sella smiled, remembering the rapt attention of everyone there, but Dira was fuming. She was staring at her with that sick, sneering, better-than-thou smile that all the women had worn back in Lakeside.

“How about a different one, Faltor?”

“Okay, Sella.”

She began to sing a song her father used to, ignoring Dira completely. It was about a pretty father bird who did what he had to, to feed his nest. Ignoring all the other birds who wanted him to fly and play, he gathered his worms to feed his young. They teased him while he worked, helping his mate raise his chicks till they were big and strong. And when they were older, the family flew off to a better land, full of sunny skies and warm, gentle breezes. The family of birds lived on in peace and harmony, to the end of their days.

She hadn’t intended it, but it reminded her of what she’d been doing for them these past few weeks. It was a long song, her soothing voice resonating around the room as the melody meandered on. Dira watched her, studying her as she sang, and Faltor fell back asleep. And Sella thought about what she was doing while the final notes of her father’s mellow song brought the tension in the room to a close.

Sella finished and stood, wrapping her shawl back around herself and gently kissed Faltor on the cheek. She decided to take the lyrics to heart; there was no way she was staying here tonight.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“What nonsense is this? Your bed’s here. I don’t like your ways girl, but your place is with us.”

“Is it?”

Dira eyed her. “We’re all that’s left, girl. Me in the kitchens, Faltor running messages. They got Mr. Geller working the fields even with his bad knees, and Mr. Silvertongue is telling stories for the guard while he’s chopping vegetables. Even with you and your ways, girl, you’re one of us. We’re all sleeping here. We’re all that’s left.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“What? Another boat’s come in?” Dira asked excitedly. “They found survivors?”

“No.”

“Someone got rescued? Someone left behind? You have to know something. What did you find?

“How would I know?”

“Because you’re the only one of us going anywhere near the lord!”

“Aye ... sleeping and whoring with him to hear you tell of it. Playing around with any man who’s got a coin in his pocket and the thought in his head. Are you interested in the size of our lord’s manhood? Maybe Sir Laigan’s? Arnet’s? Maybe that pretty little elf prince, while we’re at it? Not getting enough for yourself, Dira? Jealous?”

“Damn you, Sella! My man is dead!”

“And so is my entire family!”

Dira sighed, pinching her nose. “For the sake of the gods, girl, just tell me. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t want to know.”

“That’s right, Dira, you don’t have any idea what I’ve done. And I wouldn’t tell you if you did. Stay here, listen to your gossip, do whatever it is you want, I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going to go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“At least tell me what you mean!”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only one who knows! Damn you and your ways, girl, but we’re all that’s left! At least tell me something!”

Sella glared at her, hating her for her opinions, her judgements, all while trying to hold onto her temper. She’d been fighting with the other women all her life, ever since learning how to use her figure to help her survive since her family had died. Their deaths leaving her, barely twelve, without a single place to lay her head.

It was amazing how easy it was to get a man to give her what she needed. All she had to do was hint, but never promise. A smile here, a glance there, a quirk of the corner of her mouth just so, a hand gently placed upon an arm. Leaning over just a little too far, standing a hair too close, all while staring directly into their eyes. All for a favor, a meal, a place to sleep, maybe a dress to wear.

Damn the women of Lakeside always thinking she was sharing her sheets with any and all. And damn Dira as well, one of the ones with the highest opinions of herself out of all of the women there. Always sweet as can be whenever people were around, but treating her like dirt whenever she was alone.

But Sella knew what it was like to be alone. And she wasn’t going to leave without telling Dira what she knew.

“It isn’t someone new.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Tommy, Ari, and Donnor … they’re alive.”

“What?” Dira blurted in surprise.

“Exactly what I said. Now, goodbye,” Sella answered as she firmly shut the door. It had been weeks since they’d last seen them, and they’d thought they were all dead. But she’d been stunned, and strangely … pleased? … when she’d learned they were alive from Jan.

She moved her way down the hall, ignoring Dira calling her name. Descending into the common room, she waved to a few patrons who were calling to her and then headed for the bar, wondering where she was going to stay. And there she caught sight of Daris, and she hurriedly wiped her face before the kind woman could see.

“Bless me, Sella. You been crying, lass?” the owner of the Happy Cup, asked. Sella just looked at her, fighting her forming tears. Daris tutted, dragging her behind the bar and back into the kitchen. Unris looked up as the two of them walked through on their way to Daris’s private apartment, and Daris told him to mind the bar before she firmly shut the door.

“Now what be going on?”

“Nothin new,” Sella said, determinedly fighting her tears.

Daris studied Sella’s face, taking in her defiant look and the harsh set of her jaw. She’d seen this look before on other girls, and even on herself all those years ago.

“Matron Greentree calling you out?”

“What?”

“Telling you, you been whoring?” New tears blossomed in Sella’s eyes. Daris sighed. “I thought so. Let me guess, you left, don’t be going back, and don’t be having a place to stay.”

Sella’s lip quivered, totally indebted to this kind halfling matron who’d become like a mother to her. Rough, blunt, and brutally honest when not out in the common room, Dira was incredibly fair. She just told Sella what she expected her to do, what would be good enough and what was not, and then let her be. And she didn’t hesitate to call anyone out when her expectations weren’t met, either. Daris kept her promises, stuck to her rules, and never once changed her ways no matter who challenged them, not caring in the least how high or low her challenger was. And she didn’t seem to care at all about Sella’s past, treating her just like everyone else.

Sella loved her for it.

“Aye. I thought so. Only been a matter of time. I don’t be knowing your past, girl, and I don’t want to. But every girl like you who uses her body to get her way is thought of the same.” She quirked her eyebrow at Sella, looking her up and down, and then sighed. “And now it’s your turn.”

Daris stared at Sella, deep in thought, before coming to a conclusion. “Come with me, lass.” Daris said, grabbing her hand. “You’ve done alright by me for weeks now, working and singing till you’re asleep on your feet. You’ve proved your worth. There’s someone who’s owing me a favor, been owing me for many a year. I think I’ll be reminding her of it.”

“For me? No. Don’t use a favor for me.”

“Shaddup, girl.” Daris smiled. “It be my favor, not yours. And I’ll be doing with it what I please. You got anything of yours besides what you’re wearing? Money? Clothes? Another dress?”

“No. Everything I own I’m wearing right now.” She fingered her locket, the only thing of her parents that remained. New tears ran down her cheek as the fact hit her.

“A shame, that. Come on. Unris? Mind the bar for a bit more. I’ll be back.”

Daris kept an iron grip on Sella’s hand as they exited the Cup and walked out into the night. Sella slowed her pace so as not to outrun the halfling woman, while Daris surprisingly turned towards the Hold, leading the way. Sella’s hesitancy was warring with her curiosity as they approached the gate.

Torches were blazing along the walls, the gate guard more numerous than it had been since the battle two nights before. And the guard questioned Daris closely after stopping them while Sella nervously shifted on her feet. But Daris ignored her fidgeting, saying something to the guard that allowed them to pass.

“How’d you get through? I always need an escort.”

“Never you mind, girl.” Daris said, maintaining her iron grip. They walked through the tunnel and into the courtyard, then turning away from the stair, they moved around the base of the Hold to a small door on the opposite side from the gate. Daris rapped a peculiar rhythm on the door which opened a moment later, and an armored guardsman was there studying them expectantly.

“Tessa,” Daris stated. “Do you know where she is?”

“How would I know?”

“I don’t expect you would,” Daris replied. “Can we wait for her? In her quarters perhaps?”

“Aye. That’s allowed.”

“Then we’ll meet her there. Thank you, Guardsman. A free drink for you at the Cup.”

The guardsman smiled as Daris led Sella into a rough, low-ceilinged tunnel and then further into the hold. They passed a room partially filled with weapons, a dwarf there muttering to himself while running something over a blade. A middle-aged woman in servant’s clothes, carrying what looked like laundry, nodded to Daris as she passed them by. And the walls changed to being less rough, but still plain, the further they walked into the Hold.

Finally, they came to a plain wooden door with a sprig of flowers tacked to it. Daris knocked and waited, but when no one replied she opened the door and led Sella inside. They entered into a plain double-cell; two small rooms that were open to each other, with a central door. It looked like it was originally intended for two occupants, but had been converted to be used by one. There was a simple bed and a stand on the right side of the room with a pitcher of water on top. And besides a chair and a lit candle, that was all that was there.

But the other side was eye-opening to Sella, with one dress after another hanging there from a plain wooden bar. Every color and cloth imaginable hung there, all neatly cared for from what she could see. Shoes from formal to casual were lined up underneath as well in every conceivable style, forming complete outfits. There was a dress for every situation, and shoes for every event.

And beside them was an ornate desk, with a mirror almost as big as she was. Fine candles stood under the mirror, surrounded by a selection of paints, rubs, oils, perfumes, and simple jewelry of every imaginable design. It was more than Sella had ever seen in her life, and her eyes were drawn to it.

She moved to inspect what she saw, running her hands along the dresses, feeling the softness of the cloth. Lifting a sleeve here, touching a blouse there, she ran her fingers along lace so fine as to be spiderwebs. Every dress had a matching pair of shoes underneath, and she saw matching jewelry as well. And she was lifting one tiny necklace to look at it, a bust of a young man dangling from its delicate chain, when the door opened behind her. She froze.

“Daris? What are you doing here?” Tessa asked warmly.

“It’s good to be seeing you, girl.” Daris smiled, hugging Tessa around the waist as the head of Redtail Hold’s servants hugged her back in return.

“You could have come earlier, it’s the dinner hour for you! You know Unris can’t keep up, what with the refugees and all.”

“I think he’ll be okay. Besides, I be needing you.”

“For what?”

“For a place to stay.”

“You own an inn!” Tessa laughed. “You don’t need my help. Even with that army out there, you have all the rooms you need.”

“Aye, but I be needing one more tonight.”

Tessa frowned, then sat down on her cot while Daris hoisted herself into the chair. “For who? You know we don’t have much room.”

“Her.”

Tessa glanced over and her eyes widened, obviously noticing Sella for the first time. Sella stood frozen at her dressing table, then jerked her hand back from the chain. Tessa frowned.

“What are you doing back there?”

Sella worked her mouth, no sound coming forth.

“Never mind. She has a room Daris, she stays at the inn.”

“Not anymore.”

“Really?”

“Really. Having a hard time of it, she is.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You sleep with someone’s husband, girl? Feeling yer’ oats singing here for the prince and our lord? Trying to find a better place between the sheets?”

Anger flared. “I did not!” Sella snapped.

“Aye, I don’t be thinkin’ she be. And it be mighty unfair of you to be saying so, lass. I seem to recall another girl needing help not so long ago.”

Tessa quirked an eyebrow. “It’s like that, is it?”

“I’m thinking it be. Enough that I’m calling in on what I’ve done for you.”

“For her?” Tessa asked incredulously. Sella hugged herself, shivering for some reason by the surprise in Tessa’s voice.

“For her,” Daris agreed, very firm.

“It’s not as it seems?”

“Not as far as anything I can see.”

Tessa studied Daris for a while, then turned to study Sella as well. Her manner was different, a wary softness shining through. Tessa seemed to be reevaluating her, somehow judging her while her thoughts and opinions remained shuttered behind her eyes. Sella felt her anger flare at seeing another one about to decide she was a whore, right there before her eyes. She glared.

“You’ve got fire, girl. Did you sleep with someone?”

“Why is that important?”

“Did you sleep with someone?”

“Why am I even here?”

“Did you sleep with anyone?”

“Why do you care?”

“Spread your legs for someone? A man? Anyone in the Hold?”

“No!”

“A girl then. Anyone in town?”

“No, damn you!”

“Do some late-night dancing between the sheets?”

“It’s none of your concern!”

“It is if I say it is. Do you like stringing them along?”

“No!”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I do not!”

“You do, too! You seduce men like a siren, and you’re good at it, too. Your manner is appalling, and I almost had a stroke when you sang that song in the hall. You have to be spreading your legs for you to be that good. Who was it?”

“No one!”

“A guardsman? Sir Laigan will have their head.”

“I didn’t sleep with a guardsman!”

“An elf then? Dangerous, with the prince here.”

“It wasn’t an elf!”

“Then who, girl!”

“I’ve never slept with anyone, all right!” Sella shouted. “My uncle tried to force himself on me after my parents died and I stuck a knife in him. And I’ll stick anyone else who tries too!

“I ran, okay? Old Mr. Hart found me crying in the woods and he took me in. He was nice to me, and I loved him. I flirted with him for practice, and he thought it was funny! He used to run a tavern across the ‘Peaks, so he taught me how tavern’s work and how to tease a man to get my way. I’m good at it! Are you gonna kill me for doing what I have to, to survive?

“I’ve never slept with anyone, damn you. And not a single one of you will believe me! It doesn’t matter what I do!” Angry tears poured from Sella’s eyes as she descended into sobs, the room blurring as she struggled to remain calm.

“See?” Daris said calmly.

“By the lost gods …” Tessa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You poor girl. You’ve never slept with a soul?”

“No,” Sella whimpered. She hadn’t told anyone that. She didn’t know why she’d told them now.

“Where’d you learn how to sing?”

“My mum. Before she died.” Sella sniffed, wiping her face and smearing the tears across her cheeks in the process. “Mr. Hart taught me the songs,” she hiccoughed.

Tessa put her head in her hands and scrubbed her face before looking up. She seemed different somehow; still made up to within an inch of her life, still wearing a beautiful dress, soft shoes, and sparkling jewelry that complimented her delicately coiffed hair, but there was something else now. And as Tessa watched her over the next few interminable minutes, Sella’s tears slowed and then stopped. There was a softness in Tessa’s eyes, something Sella had never seen there before.

“Did you know all of this before you brought her to me, Daris?”

“No. But I’d been wondering.”

“Wondering what?” Sella asked, struggling to her feet.

“Sella, sit down.” Tessa sighed, exasperated, but completely understanding the young woman’s defensiveness. “Sit.” She waved her hand towards the dressing table, quirking an eyebrow until she sat.

“Let me guess. The village you came from? The women there thought you were sleeping with their husbands? Their sons? Or, that you were at least trying to?”

“Humph.”

“And you never did. But you never did anything to stop the rumors, either.”

“How could I? That bitch, Tuulhod, she was always spreading them thinking I was after ‘her’ Tommy. Like he even knew. And all the rest of them bitches did whatever she wanted them to.”

“And you caught on that the men were more interested after those rumors spread? Maybe giving you gifts? Trying to get your attention?”

“So?”

“And no one had ever given you things before? So, you used that to your advantage and flirted some more?”

“Yeah?”

“And you learned that if you hinted just enough, chose your words just so, you could get them to give you things? Without having to do a thing besides what you wanted.”

“Y-yes?”

“And you learned that if you got the men on your side, they could protect you from the ones who wanted to hurt you. They’d stand up for you when you wanted them to, take your side if you cried?”

“How do you know all that?”

“And if one of those ‘bitches’ caused you enough trouble you could use their man against them? Get him to bring you up in conversation? Invite you over? Needle the bitch who’d been bothering you?”

Sella’s mouth was hanging open.

“You asked how I know all this?” Tessa said.

“Y-yeah?”

“Because, Sella of Lakeside, I was just like you.”

“You? Like me? There’s no way.”

“Like you,” Tessa nodded, glancing Daris’s way. “But I didn’t have someone to stop me before it was to late. And by then I’d learned the hardest lesson of all.”

“What lesson?”

“That sometimes a hint can be a bit too much, and you can get caught up in your own cleverness. And the only way out is to do what you were hinting at in the first place. Spreading your legs to keep it from getting worse, no matter how much you didn’t want to. To become the whore the bitches think you to be.” Tessa sneered, a deep anger crossing her face.

“Daris here found me, running from an evil man who was determined to keep me as his own. He was rich; a head of one of the houses, the same one I’d been plying favors from until it went too far. And I slept with him, thinking that by doing so he’d leave me alone. By then he thought he owned me, and he had his men take me to his country estate. There I learned what he truly thought of me: a plaything. Just another one of his whores to be passed around to buy favors from his lordly friends.

“I escaped. Running all the way from Tatdavarr, I eventually made my way here to the outskirts of the kingdom. I whored the entire way, the only thing I knew how to do to keep a roof over my head and have a bite to eat. Eventually Daris here took me in, and I worked for her at the Cup just like you are. She had faith in me and learned me while I waited tables, my skill with numbers getting me a job here in the Hold. And over the years I moved up, our lord appointing me to the position I hold today.”

“You? A whore? No way.”

“Me. A whore. Not much older than you ... For many, many years.” She trailed off obviously deep in thought.

“Daris here made me promise to help anyone else like me. And I have, never once regretting it as every last one of the girls I’ve helped went on to make something of themselves. And that’s why Daris brought you to me. But it begs a question, girl. Can you stop being the way you are and change?”

“For what?”

“A roof over your head, a safe place to sleep, meals to eat as long as you do honest work and carry your own weight.”

“What will I have to do?”

“Be a servant in the Hold. And, for right now? Sing. Sing your pretty little heart out every chance you get. I think your singing is half the reason the prince hasn’t left yet,” she mused, “and I won’t let Pawdrig down by letting you go.”

Sella gasped. “You call Lord Maorilan by name?”

“No. Only in private, or by his leave. He is a good man, Sella. And if you work hard, he will reward you. There are much worse places to be.”

“Aye, girl, that there be,” Daris put in kindly. “Maorilan is a kind lord, and we be lucky he is. But if you don’t want to be staying here, you can always be coming back to the Cup with me. You’re welcome; you work hard, and your singing keeps the peace in the room. But I don’t be having room for you anywhere else, and you’d have to stay with the others from your village.”

“What’ll happen to them if I stay?”

“They keep the room if that’s what you’re asking. That old man of yours helps prep the meals, telling stories to the guard and keeping them entertained while they’re off duty.” Daris shrugged. “They all be helping out in own their way, and I won’t be putting them out.”

“They won’t go back to the warehouse?”

“No.”

Sella thought about it, but no matter where her thoughts led her, she kept coming back to the same thing. Here, there was a roof over her head, a meal to eat, people to protect her and keep her safe. And maybe, just maybe, she looked at Tessa, someone who understood. There was none of that out there. She made her choice.

“I-I’d like to stay, ma’am. If you’ll have me.”

Daris sighed and Tessa rose. “Then come with me, Sella. I’ll have to find you a room and some proper clothes, but for now, I think we’ll have you wait in the child’s tower. Then we can start training you for your duties in the morning. We’ll have a guard take you there until you know your way.”

Then she turned to Daris, smiling warmly. “You did it again, Mum. I’ll take care of our pretty little bird from here.”

“Tessa, dear. I’ve told you over and over, and I’ll tell you again ... I’m not your mum.”

“No. But you’ve always acted like it, so you always will be. Us girls will never forget what you’ve done.”

The Child’s Tower

Tessa escorted her into the hall and approached a guard, asking him to escort Sella to the upper reaches of one of the towers. It turned out the smallest of the three towers of Redtail was known as the child’s tower, and it seemed an odd name since there were no children in it. But off Sella went, the smallest hint of hope for her situation growing as Daris smiled and hugged her goodbye.

The guard was chatty, remembering her from the feast. He complimented her on her singing and then on how she was dressed, offering his arm to help her up the stair. It would have been cute if she hadn’t been so tired.

She knew she could have used his interest if she’d wanted to; maybe get a snack, earn some minor favor through idle chatter. But Tessa’s eyes were boring into her when she introduced her to the guard, not missing the guard eyeing her from head to toe in the least. And somehow, Sella knew anything she did in the Hold would find its way back to Tessa’s ears, and she was not about to screw this up. Not one bit.

“Here we are, ma’am. The observatory it’s called.”

“The observatory?”

“Yep.” The guard pointed. “Through there, there’s a balcony that looks out over the Serensea. See the stars, you can.”

“Oh, thank you.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No. Tessa wants me to wait here.”

“Oh. Well, have a seat then, I guess ... If you want to.” He paused. “The jakes are out that way,” he said awkwardly, hooking his thumb back the way they came.

“Thank you.”

“You singin’ fer’ someone?”

“No.”

“That be a shame. I was hopin’ to stay. You sing pretty.”

She looked away hoping he’d leave and caught him leaning back to look at her backside, probably thinking she wouldn’t notice. The silence became awkward. And when she looked back, he flushed slightly, snapping his eyes back to her face.

“Ah, well. I have to be gettin’ back to my station or Sir Laigan will be wonderin’. I’m guardin’ the lower levels tonight.” He puffed his chest out.

“I feel very safe knowing you’re there.”

He smiled, puffing his chest out more. “I’ll keep an eye out for you, miss. If you be needing anythin’, ask for Heller.”

“I will. Thank you, Heller.” She offered a slight smile, fighting a yawn.

He nodded, tapping a fist to his chest. “Then I’ll leave you to it, ma’am.” He seemed unable to stop himself from glancing at her breasts before turning away, and looked disappointed when she firmly shut the door behind him.

Sella rolled her eyes as she turned to wander the room, idly trailing her fingers along the furniture. She was exhausted, tired even before she’d reentered the Hold for the second time this evening, and she didn’t have the time, interest, or inclination to play with Heller.

He was cute in a way, but she was certain Tessa would find out, remembering the look she’d given her. Maybe later, when she’d settled in. If Tessa allowed it, that is.

The room she was in was strange, one wall curving to follow the exterior wall of the tower. A bookshelf was along another wall next to a shuttered window, with a few chairs and a sofa placed comfortably about. The soft light of a candle gently illuminated the room, almost requiring a person to relax. And an open entryway was off to the side, obviously leading to the balcony Heller had mentioned. A curtain there separated the room from the night, softly wafting in the breeze.

She parted the curtain, stepping out onto a wide balcony. Looking out over the Serensea in the night, the other towers were to her left. The bridge between the child’s and the next largest tower were on her level, obviously entering her tower from somewhere on the other side from where she was. And the Hold’s blue standard hung from the bridge, softly drifting in the breeze as it disappeared down into the gloom.

She was glad her view of the prince’s army was blocked. She’d laid in her bed in the Cup while the battle had been underway, shaking like a leaf with the sounds of fighting. The growls and explosions had awakened a terror in her, a terror she thought she’d forgot. But the calls of the ondilaan brought vivid memories of her last moments in Lakeside back to her mind, and how she’d been saved.

Flashes of Mr. Hart hobbling from his tavern towards the waterfront. The ondilaani warrior lunging in from the side, its jaws around his throat. Him gurgling for her to run as she screamed and bolted for the waterfront, the shore overrun with people jumping into the ‘sea. Panicked flashes and images of people stumbling about. Her desperate strokes as people died, the arrows raining down around them as they swam. A pole appearing before her eyes, Ari and Donnor pulling her into the boat. Tommy standing in the back, not flinching a single time as arrow after arrow flew by.

She’d never forget that, and would never forget what she owed them. And it topped what she already felt they’d done for her. All of them always nice, always accepting, and she was always welcome in their home, never once making her feel left out, for her entire life.

She ran her hand along the rail as the breeze stirred her hair, and she caught herself humming. Thinking about what she’d been through, she began to sing almost without realizing it. A mournful tune, its minor key hauntingly beautiful as it echoed amongst the towers. The words were a reminder that after losing everything else, the sea would still provide. It was a tune usually only sung at funerals, and was a reminder of what was lost. But to her it meant something different. To her it was a message of hope.

And as she sang the final chords, barely whispering the final notes into the night, she felt better. Glad she could have this moment of peace. The moons seemed to agree with her, bathing her in their gentle, welcoming light.

Someone clapped behind her.

Sella spun. Lord Maorilan was standing there in the doorway only steps away. He was watching her, his piercing grey eyes studying her as she gasped before sinking into an awkward curtsy. The same curtsy Tessa had taught her when she’d sung for him and the prince only a few days ago. She lowered her eyes.

“Rise, please. I don’t require the displays the prince does.”

Sella looked at him from beneath her lashes before rising, wary that there was no one else with him. She smoothed her dress nervously while he moved to the rail beside her, relaxing when he kept a space between them. He looked out over the water, maintaining his silence. It offered her a moment to study him, before she too turned to look out over the water by his side. He looked tired.

“My lord. I’m sorry if I disturbed you.”

He grunted. “I don’t consider music a disruption. It’s been missing from here for some time, so I followed it to its source ... and I always did like the view. The Serensea, that is. It’s calming, peaceful, but more so with your song.”

He sighed, and his eyes went far away. His face was set, almost hard in profile, and his blond hair was lit by the glow of the room behind them. The gentle play of light was the only thing softening his features.

“My lord?”

“Nothing ... I want to thank you for singing these past few days, and for your song tonight. Sella, I believe, is it?”

“Yes, my Lord.” She dropped into a curtsy once more.

“Hmmm,” he mused, his grey eyes back on her. “You have a rich future ahead of you, Sella of … I never did learn where you are from. From where do you hail?”

“Lakeside, my Lord.”

“Lakeside. Heh.” He shook his head, turning back to study the ‘sea. “Now there’s a name that seems to always be turning up in recent days.”

“My lord?”

“A lot of interesting things seem to hail from Lakeside, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”

Lord Maorilan held his peace instead of answering, continuing to stare out into the ‘sea. He looked tense, his shoulders hunched. Then he leaned forward on the railing, rubbing his chin on his clasped hands.

“Tell me about your village, Sella.”

“Yes, my Lord. What would you like to know?”

The curtain parted behind him, Tessa glancing through. She took in Sella standing at their lord’s side, quirking one eyebrow suggestively and didn’t look pleased. Sella panicked, rapidly shaking her head ‘no’.

“Anything. Anything of note.”

“Nothing ever happened there, my Lord.”

“Then whatever you like, just something of your village.”

Tessa made eyes at her, waving for Sella to fulfill his request. Pausing for one, final, significant glance, she let the curtain fall, her shadow still seen beneath it. Sella didn’t know what to think, suddenly afraid of what Tessa thought she was doing.

“Tessa worries about me, Sella. She won’t mind you telling me your tale,” Lord Maorilan said, hints of humor coloring the rich baritone of his voice. Not once had he turned around.

“How did you know it was her?” She blurted in surprise, then blushed a fiery red. “… my Lord.”

A smile quirked his lips. “She’s minded me for years. You don’t think I know her steps whenever they come near? Come now, a story from Lakeside.”

“Yes, my Lord,” her voice quavered, now acutely conscious of her royal audience along with Tessa listening in behind.

By the gods, don’t screw this up ...

“Lakeside is a fishing village, my Lord. We caught fish and we shipped them to you. It’s what we’ve always done.” She trailed off awkwardly, not sure what he wanted to know.

“Come now, I have Master Girdly to tell me what your village produced. Tell me something about your life there. Something my advisors wouldn’t know. Perhaps something of note?”

“Nothing ever happened there that was noteworthy, my Lord. The only thing new to happen in years was when Ari came through, about a year ago.”

“Nothing?”

“No, my Lord. No one ever visited. You sent a troop of the guard through a couple years ago, but that was it. Even the Sweetflour’s family in Torensdell never visited; they went to them.”

“So, no one ever came there?”

“No, my Lord.”

“Huh. Sounds lonely.”

She looked at him, keeping quiet, not sure if he wanted her to respond. Eventually the silence became awkward.

“My lord?”

“Nothing. So, Ari came?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Tell me about that.”

“Okay …”

There was a quiet commotion from behind the curtain, ending almost as soon as it begun. Lord Maorilan glanced over his shoulder at it, then his grey eyes found hers. He leaned onto one arm along the rail getting more comfortable, having a hint of a smile on his face. He was probably able to tell how nervous she was, she figured.

“Ari ... my Lord. Ummm. Ari came to Lakeside a little over a year ago. Just wandered in down the old path to Harper’s Creek. Nobody’s used it in forever with it being overgrown and all, and how she found her way, I’ll never know. But it’s probably an elf thing.”

“An elf thing?”

“Yes, my Lord. She moves like the light itself, always so graceful … doesn’t even try. Even as pregnant as she was, she just floated right in, all but ready to burst. Did she come through here?”

“I seem to remember someone fitting her description passing through about a year ago, but she never stopped as far as I knew.”

There was another noise from beyond the curtain drawing her eye. She could hear Tessa whispering, or at least that’s what she thought she heard. Tessa wanted her to talk to the lord, didn’t she?

“Hmmmm. Tessa?” Lord Maorilan called. “Is there something you require?”

There was a pause. “No, m’lord.” Then another pause. “I am sorry for disturbing you. I will await Sella at your pleasure, m’lord.”

“Two m’lord’s … heh. Must be mad at me for something,” he mumbled, then shook his head. “Continue, Sella. Tell me more about Ari’s arrival.”

Sella glanced at the curtain; a shadow returning underneath. “Yes, my Lord.” She turned her head, then joined Lord Maorilan leaning on the rail when he gestured. “She came down the path red in the face, huffing and puffing from what they say.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah. She came in and then sees Donnor and Yella. Yella’s our healer … was our healer, my Lord. She’s pretty much the person to talk to when you’re needing anything. Anyway, Ari ended up at Mistle’s house, the old seamstress.”

“She did?”

“Yeah. Mistle’s a nice old woman. Was. Anyway, she took Ari in, and Ari did odd jobs for her until her baby came.” Sella smiled, remembering. “Mistle doted on the little thing, cute as button Di’ii was. Anyway, Ari ended up taking over for her so Mistle could play with her girl. Sewed better than her, too, though nobody would ever tell Mistle that. The old hen.”

“So, she just fit right in?”

“Pretty much. Though Yella never did take a liking to her, my Lord.”

“She didn’t?”

“Well, no.” Sella frowned. “Never did warm up to her, either, now that I think about it. Like two cats locked in the same house, they were. Ari always nice to everyone, even her, Yella not liking her one bit.”

“Why was that?”

“I don’t know. Nobody ever knew. There was a big blow up between her and her husband the day Ari arrived, so maybe she caught Donnor looking.”

“Did he?”

“Oh, gods, I don’t know. I mean, you could cover Ari in pig shit and she’d still be beautiful. All the men looked.” Sella’s annoyance with the fact came through in her voice, loud and clear.

Lord Maorilan guffawed.

Sella blushed in response, lowering her eyes. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I forgot who I was speaking to.”

“Oh, don’t start now. I appreciate the honesty. You haven’t ‘my lorded’ me for a while now, I was hoping you forgot.”

Sella blushed even more, utterly out of sorts dealing with the Lord of Redtail Hold. She decided to do something utterly unlike what she normally did; she shut up.

He watched her, grinning. “Don’t worry Sella of Lakeside, my barely royal ears aren’t offended by swearing or the lack of a title.” He chuckled some more. “Come, continue your tale.”

She bobbed a quick curtsy, just in case, before continuing. “Yes, my Lord.” He grinned at her nervousness, and she pinched her lips at him without thinking. Then she blushed furiously, realizing what she’d just done. She took a deep breath, turning away to look out over the sea before she made another mistake. And she didn’t miss the toothy grin he was giving her when she turned one bit.

“Anyway, Yella and Ari never got along. They didn’t fight, but they never got real friendly. Donnor never really spoke to her either, now that I’m thinking about it, but Tommy did. He ran errands for his mum.”

“Tommy?”

“Yeah. Err, yes, my Lord. Yella and Donnor’s boy.”

“I think we can dispense with the titles. So, what else?”

“Ummm, there was nothing else, my lo ...” He grinned when she stopped herself, and she fought against giving him a frown. “Yella made her potions and poultices. Donnor and Tommy fished. Ari sewed.”

“Did you like them? Were they good people?”

“Uh, yes? I mean, Donnor was quiet, came from somewhere else the elders said. I’d figure you’d know since they all said he came from here somewhere around twenty years ago. I mean he was friendly and all, but quiet.”

“He did,” Maorilan agreed. “I remember him coming through as a boy, but Redtail is not from where he hailed. I believe I heard he was married?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Sella ignored the sounds coming from the other room. “He married Yella when I was young. She was nice, and talked to everybody, was usually friendly towards everyone, too. Except Ari, that is…” Sella scrunched her brow, remembering. “Their boy, Tommy, was younger, always friendly, sweet even. His brother had a crush on me, though, so I stayed away.”

“I wonder why,” Lord Maorilan mused, glancing away.

“My Lord?”

“Never mind. He has a brother?”

“Well, kind of. Dawd’s a dwarf. Was. Mikus’s son; him and Donnor were basically brothers. Tommy called Mikus his uncle and Dawd his brother.”

“Good people as well?”

“Yes. They were always friendly, welcoming.”

“They live there long?”

“As long as Donnor. They all came to the village together.”

“They did?”

“Yeah. Old man Hart said he still remembered it. Both of them showing up to Lakeside with babes, both looking for a place to stay.” There was a thump from the other room.

Maorilan glanced towards the curtain and frowned, then shook his head. “Interesting. So, what then?”

“Then nothing. Life went on, my Lord. That is until the ondilaan came.”

“And then?”

“Then people died.” Sella shivered, the breeze from the ‘sea no longer soothing. “They all died,” she trailed off, her mind remembering the screams.

“I’m sorry. Causing you grief was not my intent.” He turned from her, looking back over the sea. They kept silent company before he spoke again. “How are you finding Redtail?”

She looked at him, meeting his eyes. Something told her he wanted an honest answer, so she did something else she normally didn’t do. She told him the honest truth.

“Scary. Very scary, my Lord. We all know what you’ve done for us here, giving us things to do and places to sleep. But no one can miss the trenches we dig, or the fences we build, or the reasons for it.”

“Are the people scared as well? Or just you?”

“We’re all scared.” She shivered. “Maybe not so much since the elves got here, but we all know the ondilaan are still out there.”

“What would they have me do?”

“My lord?”

“The people. What would you have me do?”

“My lord, it’s not my place …”

“It is if I ask it. Come now, Sella. If you were in my place, what would you do?”

Sella shied away from his eyes, glancing back towards the doorway and the shadow there. Tessa must be getting impatient because she was pacing, the shadow moving back and forth. Sella felt trapped. Who was she to tell a lord what to do?

“Please,” Maorilan asked. “We are just two people, talking in the night. Share your thoughts.”

She swallowed. “Yes, my Lord. I don’t know what to do with your men, my Lord. I’m no soldier, but your men talk. They don’t say much, always shutting up when the ondilaan come up, but that says something right there. The fact that they won’t talk about it tells me they’re worried.”

“You’re very observant.”

“I wouldn’t know, my Lord. I just know they’re worried.”

“So, what would you do?”

“Do?”

“What would you do about their concerns?”

“Help them somehow.”

“How?”

“I don’t know? Get rid of the ondilaan? Attack them, I guess? Kill them to keep them from killing us?”

“And if you couldn’t?”

“My lord?”

“If you couldn’t kill them. If you weren’t able to, what then?”

“I don’t know, my Lord.”

He turned away, leaning both elbows on top of the rail. The light of the moons reflected in his eyes. “Neither do I …” He sighed.

He looked so dejected, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Her heart reached out to him then, and she found herself reaching out with her hand as well. Stopping herself, she hesitated before continuing on, laying a gentle hand upon his arm. He looked up at her, questioning her with his gaze.

“I’m sorry if it’s not my place to say, my Lord, but we all know you’re doing what you can.”

“Yes?”

“Aye. Everyone has a place to stay, a meal to eat, a roof over our heads. We work to earn our place, sure, but it’s honest work, and you don’t ask for more than that. You do what you can.”

He glanced back out over the sea. “It’s all I can do.”

“It’s all anyone expects.” She felt strange comforting him. Who was she to be doing this? She took her hand back, worried that Tessa might see. And worried what she might think if she did.

“Many expect more, Sella. Much more. And I fear I cannot protect all of you.”

The silence returned, and Sella was afraid. What did he mean he couldn’t protect them? She had to know.

“My lord?”

“Hmmm?”

“What do you mean? What do you mean you can’t protect us?”

“What do you know about the situation we are in, Sella?”

“I know the ondilaan are there.” She cast one hand towards the pass. “And I know Lakeside is destroyed, a couple other villages as well.”

“And our forces?”

“Well, you have all the men here, and the prince has his army out there. And you sent Donnor off to Resthaven with a bunch of men, and Jan said they ended up in Varmen’s Shoal and beat the ondilaan there.”

“All true.”

She looked at him quizzically. “The prince’s army beat the ondilaan here. I mean, they’re still here, but they won. With the prince winning, and Donnor winning too, I don’t see why we don’t just finish them off.”

“If it were only that easy.”

“Huh?”

“Let me ask you something, Sella. Where are the ondilaan?”

“In the pass.”

“Where else?”

“I guess down south. I mean, they’d have to be.”

“They are. Anywhere else you can think of?”

“No. I mean, not that I know of.”

“Where are our men? The soldiers?”

“Well, here and with Donnor. That’s all I know.”

“You are correct. And does Donnor have a lot of men?”

“I don’t know. It seems like it?”

“He does not. About forty, last I heard. Roughly equivalent to the largest concentration of conscripts I have in that area. They are stationed in Resthaven, protecting against the ondilaan coming here from the south and west. Does that seem like a lot to you?”

“Well, no.” She frowned as she thought about it.

“It’s not. About two months ago we sent half of the Redtail Guard to the king. He’s forming an army there, just south of Tatdavarr, and he probably has by now. The rest of the Redtail Guard are here.” He waved towards the hold and then paused, looking like he was thinking about something. “Would you say the prince has a large army?”

“Well, yeah. All you have to do is look at it to figure that out. My lord,” she added, hoping he didn’t take her last comment as sass.

“You are correct, he does. And where are the ondilaan that are here?”

“In the pass.”

“In the pass … And are there a lot of ondilaan in there?”

“Well, I guess so. I mean, we all saw Sir Laigan return before the prince arrived. And then there was that huge battle the other night. At least it sounded huge, with the strange lights and all. But we won, right?”

“We did, and you are correct, there are a lot of ondilaan in the pass, and it was a big battle. But tell me, where does the pass lead?”

“To the rest of the kingdom.”

“Which is where the other half of the guard are. And if the ondilaan are in the pass, can the rest of the guard get here?”

“Well, no. But the king’s army is there, you say. They’ll save us.”

“Oh, I only wish that were true, dear Sella. Without knowing anything else, if we sent half of the guard through the pass, and the ondilaan are in the pass, what does that tell you about the king’s army?

He looked at her intently, and she felt compelled to answer. She turned and thought about what he’d said. Thinking about the situation as it presented itself.

“That the army isn’t near the pass?”

“Correct. Or, that it has already been destroyed.”

“How can you know that?”

“I cannot. But it leads to a very simple conclusion. That for the time being, we are very much alone.”

“But we are not alone. The elves are here, they came when we needed them most.”

“They did. But, Sella, they did not come for us in our time of need, they came for their own reasons.”

“Huh?”

“I will not say, but take it as truth. They did not come for us.”

“But don’t we have friends? Any other people that can help us?”

“Sure. But none of them are here.”

“So, what will we do?”

“Do? We will do what we can. I am the lord of these lands, and I will care for them and everyone in them to the best of my ability. Just as my family has done for generations. You can take that as truth, Sella, no matter how alone we are right now.”

Sella’s heart reached out to him and she moved closer, placing her hand on his arm once more. “My Lord, you are not alone.”

“You are very kind to say so, Sella, but I’m afraid we are. And so am I.” He stood, straightening his jacket.

She moved closer, clasping both of his forearms in her hands. “Lord Maorilan, you are not alone.”

He looked at her, his piercing grey eyes staring down into her own. She had no idea how long they stood there, but she eventually realized they were standing almost chest to chest; very close, intimate even. She blushed, quickly releasing him and backing away.

Gods, what would Tessa think if she’d seen that.

Pawdrig studied her, realizing she had his complete attention as no woman had in many a year. She stood there in her second-hand dress silhouetted by the light of the moons shimmering off of the Serensea. She was very beautiful in that moment and he caught himself, reminding himself that she was one of the villagers he was sworn to protect.

Turning away he cleared his throat, offering her time to recover from their awkward moment. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she smoothed her dress, the night breeze stirring her auburn hair. Tessa would have his hide if she thought he was dallying with one of his villagers, and he inwardly winced as he realized where his thoughts were going. He was probably old enough to be her father.

But no one had approached him so intimately in years, casually touching him just to comfort. She was so honest, so different than the games of court. Her utter lack of guile stirred something in him, endearing her to him even more. He wished he could meet someone like her before he died.

“So, Sella, back to the question at hand. What would you have me do?”

She glanced at him a few times, obviously uncomfortable. He turned back to the ‘sea, moving slightly away from her to lean against the railing once more. He waited quietly for her to respond and she did not disappoint, seeming to take comfort in the space he’d made.

“I would do as you are, my Lord,” she said, a return to formality coloring her words. “If we are truly alone, then we must protect what we have. Protect the Hold and prepare for the ondilaan to come here. Stock up on food like we did for a long winter back home, and get everyone ready to hunker down until the winter storms pass.”

“It’s called a ‘siege’, what you describe.”

“And what happens during a siege, my Lord?”

“We move everyone behind the walls and close the gate. Stack everyone in here like cordwood while we wait for the ondilaan to leave.”

He watched her studying him out of the corner of his eye. Gods he hoped that fate did not come to pass. The thought of Redtail bursting at the seams with all of the refugees in town, the rationing it would require, he didn’t wish that fate on anyone.

“Will it come to that, my Lord?”

He paused before answering, then decided she deserved to know the truth. “I don’t know.”

Sella studied him, taking in the set of his jaw. A deep exhaustion escaped him with his reply, and her heart went out to him even more. She’d never before realized the pressures he was under and wanted to comfort him. But she would not, no matter how desperately this man needed comforting. Despite whatever had happened moments ago, she would not hurt her chances here by having her actions misconstrued. She would not reach out to him.

She would not.

He stood, not noticing her inner turmoil. “Come. I am tired, and our talk has become … not what I wished. I came for a light tale following the sounds of music, and not the serious conversation it has become.” He approached and took her hand, placing it on his forearm and covering it with his own. “Let me escort you to Tessa, who has been patiently waiting. But before I do, a request.”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Continue to sing, Sella. I have been aware of your singing for some time now.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Your songs bring peace to the inn, my hall, and to whoever listens to them. It is a remarkable talent you have, and I thank you for sharing it with us.”

She flushed.

“Now, let us get you to Tessa,” he said as he parted the curtain, exposing the room once more. But it was not just Tessa who occupied the room, standing off to the side while seeming strangely cowed. The prince was there as well, and his elven eyes bored into them both, a strange fire burning there for them to see.

Pawdrig threw a quick glance towards Tessa, reading her tension. What did he hear …

“A fine evening for a chat, Pawdrig. Wouldn’t you say?”

Lord Maorilan kept his hand over Sella’s, trapping her beside him. He felt her shaking as he paused to choose a reply. “A fine evening, Alaris. I was speaking with Sella here, who has been singing for us. I don’t believe you have been introduced.”

“I have not.” An awkward silence ensued as the prince did not say anything further, continuing to stare into Pawdrig’s eyes.

“Have I kept you long, Alaris? I certainly wouldn’t have minded an interruption.”

“Not long.”

“Then what may I do for you? I am at your service.”

“I came to inform you the ondilaan appear to be moving part of their forces back into the pass.”

“That is good news, but I am certain that is not all.”

“No. I was going to ask your thoughts on pursuit, and discuss possibly following them into the pass.”

“And by your words, something has changed.”

“Yes, you could say that. Some new information has come to light. I believe I will follow them into the pass after all, forgoing our discussion. I feel the need to … hunt.”

“I cannot dictate what you do with your forces, Alaris. If you think it is best to pursue, then pursue. I offer all that I have to help you.”

“All that you have?”

“Yes. All I have.”

“Knowledge as well?”

“If that is what you require, then all my knowledge as well, Alaris. You know this.”

“Then I feel a conversation must take place.”

“Yes?”

“It seems there were certain things I was unaware of, my host,” Alaris said. He seemed angry, all but vibrating in place, totally at odds with the deceptive calm of his voice. Tessa was waving her hand behind the prince’s back, desperately trying to get Pawdrig’s attention.

“Then what can I bring to light, my ally? All that I know is yours.”

“Good. Then tell me, Maorilan … Why did you keep the knowledge of my wife coming to your realm for over a year?” he asked, flames deep within his eyes. “And after that, we can discuss why a man and a dwarf, both having young children, passed through here almost twenty years ago with not a word being said.

“Both fitting the descriptions of people wanted by the Vale.”

A Surprise on the Road

Day 222 – We travelled along the old road today, and you can see a long way. The winds are picking up, and Ty thinks the autumn storms are coming. Not much happened at first, but we did …

They’d left the next morning, travelling along the old road heading south. Tommy was still grumpy about their globe battle last night, and his Tol ‘ached’ for a lack of a better way of explaining it. The wind didn’t help much, either.

Ari had enjoyed herself a little too much last night, he’d decided, and she still had that annoying smirk on her face. But she’d showed him what their exercise had done when they’d finished, and he couldn’t deny the results. Pulsing her Tol inside of him, she’d led him to one of the narrow bits along his pathways and even he could see the Tol there flowing more freely than it had done before.

His da’ had returned to camp after Ari had shown him that. Calling to get everyone’s attention, he spread the news that there were no fresh signs of the ondilaan that Saress or the sprites could find, which helped everyone relax. But the trail they’d been following to get here narrowed as it crossed the road on its way towards Silverlake, and the wagon couldn’t pass. Unfortunately, they’d have to find another way.

So, after waking up in the morning and getting ready to go, they buried their fire pits and set off on a slow march along the road. The old road was easily wide enough for the artock and the wagon to pass, and its hard-packed earth handily supported the load. Alarat and Camm predicted they’d make good time, the old road reminding them of the trade route between Redtail and Devalket. And a short time later, they left the edge of the forest and emerged out into a grassy plain.

The troop was deployed differently this morning. The two ranks of spears were still travelling in column side by side in front of the animals, but his da’ had spoken with the ch’ten about how they could help when they’d prepared to leave. With Dap translating, the sprites agreed to take up station on their flanks, spread out about a bow shot from the sides of the troop. This allowed all of Saress’s archers to push out about two or three bowshots in front of the troop to screen their advance.

Saress seemed to be trying her best to bounce back and forth between each of her five pairs of archers, and Tommy was certain she was going to be one tired J’al’osil by the end of the day. He watched the tiny figure with its hood up, far out in front of the troop, jogging back and forth, trying to watch out for them all.

“She’ll be fine, Tomilanthus.”

“Huh?”

“You were staring after Saress like she was going to disappear off the face of the world.”

“I’m just wondering why she’s going back and forth between her people so much.”

“Hmmm. Well, you can ask her when we stop for lunch.”

“Ask who when we stop for lunch?” Donnor asked as he approached.

“Saress. Tommy’s wondering why she’s moving around so much.”

“She’s worried about us being so exposed. I don’t blame her. There’s nothing around us except these rolling plains and meadows, which is why we’ve pushed the archers so far out. They’re really on their own out there if they get surprised by anything, and that’s why we’re moving so slow.”

“Slow, Ilari?”

“Sorry, slow as in we’re not doing any jogging today. Or probably any training either.”

“Oh.”

“So why are we out here then, Da’?”

“Because we gotta find a good trail to Silverlake. Rordin’s originally from Brookside and he told Keris there’s a road almost as big as this one further south that leads to Silverlake.”

“They find it yet?”

“No, but it shouldn’t be too hard. You can’t see it from back here, but these meadows stretch almost as far as the eye can see. If it wasn’t for the roll of the land, you could see all the way to the horizon. Except for the random groves of trees that keep popping up every now and then, that is.

“See that one?” Donnor said, pointing off towards a small grove to their left. “That’d be a great place for the ondilaan to hide in since it’s along the road and only about a dozen or so bow shots from here. They could watch the road and our advance on it, sit tight, wait for us to pass them by, and then move on. And there’s damn all we could do about it. It’s driving Saress batty.”

The correts suddenly perked up, their heads popping erect while looking off towards the west. They started trilling quietly, not quite prancing, but definitely walking with a bit more bounce. Camm struggled with their leads for a moment before getting them under control, but one of the giant birds let out a long trilling call that sounded across the plain.

“Tommy, run to Mikus. Bring the troop to a halt, face west. Go.”

Tommy jogged up the line, his da’ staying behind and staring intently off to the west in the direction the correts were looking. Tommy remembered his da’ saying they were sometimes kept as guards, then he broke into a run, worried about what the correts might sense. Mikus was looking back over his shoulder towards the rear of the troop, focusing in on him the closer he got.

“Mikus,” he panted. “The correts are calling about something. Da’ is back with Ari and said to bring the troop to a halt and face west.”

“Shite. TROOP, HALT! FACE TA’ THA’ RIGHT, MOVE!” He bellowed. “Tommy, ya’ got first rank till I’m relieved. Take me place,” he ordered as he jogged to the front of the troop. “Listen up! Tha’ correts be sensin’ somethin’ an’ we gonna’ be waitin’ fer’ whatever it be right here. TROOP, REST!”

Mikus let out a piercing whistle, getting Saress’s attention and making the hand motion Tommy remembered was the sign to fall in around the troop. She ran, getting her people’s attention and sending them hurrying back towards them. Meanwhile the sprites jogged in, heading back towards Ari and his da’.

“What’s going on, Keris?” Tommy asked over his shoulder.

“Not a clue. But correts don’t spook or call except for what you’ve seen. That call they just made is weird. Your da’ said they’re used as guards in the plains, so I’m guessing they sense something they don’t like.”

“I don’t like not knowing.”

“Nobody does.”

Mikus was walking back towards the animals keeping one eye on the terrain to the west.

“What should I do? I’ve never been in charge of a rank before.”

“Nothing new. Your job is to follow commands and steady the line.”

Saress trotted past behind them, the last of her archers taking up position on Tommy’s left with Immer in command.

“Steady the line?”

“Yeah,” Keris said, staring off into the distance. “What you’ve been doing since Resthaven.”

“Huh?”

The correts were dancing almost, Camm struggling to hold their leads. They were both calling out now, one of them letting out a shrill whistle that pierced the day.

“Just do what you normally do,” Keris said, sounding distracted. “Okay everyone, listen up and pass it down the line. Something’s coming, no clue what. Stay easy until we know what it is. If your gear’s not ready, do it now. Strap down your shields, helmets on, you know the drill.”

“Aye, Keris,” Larn said from his side, passing his orders down the line.

“Turred, did you hear what Keris said?”

“Aye, lad.”

“Pass it down our rank.”

“Already have.”

“Huh?”

“We been doin’ thing’s tha’ dwarven way since we left tha’ Hold, lad. Dwarves always pass orders down tha’ ranks.”

One of the correts let out another sharp whistle, and Tommy started hearing something rumbling in the distance.

“Do you hear that, Keris?” Tommy asked.

“Hear what?”

“That rumbling.”

“What rumbling?”

The correts were prancing in place now, dancing and circling around Camm who was struggling to control them. Alarat ran forward and took one of the leads, leaving the artock behind to munch on some grass while eyeing the birds.

“Oi. Probably be like back in Resthaven, Keris,” Turred muttered over his shoulder. He looked intently out over the rolling terrain to their west, twisting his hand on his spear. The meadows and plains were rolling like waves upon the Serensea, full of dips and valleys as far as they could see. “Tha’ boy hears like tha’ lady an’ tha’ sprites. What da’ ya’ hear, lad?”

“It sounds like thunder, but not a lot of it … and there’s no crashing. It doesn’t come and go like waves do. It just keeps getting louder and louder… Do you see that dust there?” Tommy asked, squinting and pointing off into the distance.

“OI, MIKUS! WARE! CAVALRY!” Turred bellowed.

Mikus’s head snapped towards Turred’s call, then west before sprinting as fast as he could back up the line. “Tommy! Get your arse back ta’ yer’ da’!” He ordered as he pushed Tommy out of his place.

“TROOP! READY!” came his da’s shout as Tommy ran behind the troop, back down the line.

The troop’s spears snapped forward as first rank closed their shields with each other. Saress was ordering Immer and Laren to move the archers back from the line and plant arrows in the ground around them within easy reach. One of the sprites grabbed the lead to the artock and was moving it back behind the troop when Tommy arrived at Ari’s side.

“… can’t do anything against charging cavalry, Donnor.”

“I know. Nobody has cavalry down here, even Maorilan doesn’t! They’ll tear us to pieces in the open like this. Damn, damn, damn! Get behind the line and stay there,” his da’ brusquely ordered, trotting off towards the end of the troop, opposite from where Keris and Mikus were.

The thundering was easy to hear now, the troop reacting to the new sound with intent eyes and steady spears. There was something weird about the sound though, Tommy realized, while looking nervously about. The ch’ten started chittering, moving left and right to the sides of the wagon while Tonat clambered up to stand guard over the child. And Ahton was talking with Dap, warily eyeing the dancing correts who were still spinning and prancing around Alarat and Camm.

Tommy was peering out between the heads of the men when one of the correts let out a piercing whistle, almost in his ear. The rumbling was easy to hear now and he expected to see men on horseback at any moment. It was unnerving how the thundering seemed to echo from all around, with absolutely nothing being seen in the open rolling terrain except for a few puffs of dust here and there. Then, when it seemed like whatever it was should be right on them, the thundering stopped. And silence descended while the members of the troop looked nervously about.

“There!” one of the men cried, pointing a little north of center. Something quickly ducked back down below the lip of terrain while the men looked towards where it had been.

“MIKUS! North of center!” his da’ shouted.

“Aye!” came his reply from the far end. “Got somethin’ south, too!”

The correts stopped dancing, but were vibrating in place. Their eyes were fixated on where whatever it had been had disappeared. One of them let out a strange warbling call while the other one picked it up, mimicking and repeating it as soon as the first had stopped.

Alarat was looking at the birds strangely; Camm saying, “Huh?”

“HELLO!” Donnor called out.

Silence. Some of the sprites clambered up on top of the wagon, peering out over the heads of the troop. The two correts continued their strange, warbling calls as Alarat and Camm looked at each other in confusion.

“HELLO!” his da’ repeated.

There was movement along the rise where whatever it was had been. Then one of the men called out, pointing south of center as another something disappeared from view. Then there were more calls from the men, pointing here and there along the lip of land in front of them as multiple things quickly rose and ducked out of view.

“What do you see! Anybody!” his da’ shouted.

“It’s tiny like,” Deya yelled back. “Got big eyes!”

“Anybody know what it is?” his da’ called.

Something popped up slightly left of center, staying still for a moment longer than the rest before ducking away. One of the sprites behind Tommy called out, whistling and chittering to Ahton. Ahton sounded surprised, whistling some query while jumping up on the artock’s back with Tonat and peering out.

Another something popped up, hesitating a moment before it disappeared and suddenly Ahton started to laugh. His laughter grew long and loud as he chittered and whistled to his people. Dap listened intently to what he said.

The correts continued their warbling calls as more and more somethings appeared and disappeared over the rise in the land, then Dap started to laugh as well.

“Dammit, Dap! What’s so funny?” his da’ shouted.

“You can relax, Commander,” Dap said, a big grin splitting his face.

“Why’s that?”

One of the somethings popped up, weaving back and forth before turning sideways and revealing a huge golden eye.

“Because they’re correts,” he chuckled, and the first of these new birds slowly walked up over the rise.

***

After everyone had calmed down, they continued on to the south. The troop’s correts relaxed once the new birds came into view, and they examined the newcomers intently. Their snake-like necks weaved back and forth while they spun their heads to follow them wherever they went. The new birds returned the favor, examining the troops correts at a distance before prancing up and down the line, sometimes circling the troop as they studied them.

Donnor ordered everyone to ignore the correts after consulting with Alarat, Camm, and the sprites. There were fourteen of them, and from what the handlers could see, they weren’t wild. One of them had the remains of a leather strap around its neck, and Camm said the wild ones’ leg feathers were usually matted; these one’s weren’t.

But tame or wild, the birds didn’t let anyone approach, staying at least a half bow shot away from the troop. And they kept talking to the troop’s correts, a trilling symphony of calls traveling back and forth between the two groups of birds while the troop got itself under way.

Every now and then one of the new correts edged closer to the troop, seemingly curious. But whenever one did, something about the troop spooked them and they’d dart off as a group in an explosion of speed. The flock of sprinting birds produced the thundering rumble Tommy had heard, and it echoed around the troop, while their feet stirred up clouds of dust that wafted away on the breeze.

Saress pushed her archers back out, and the new birds followed the pairs of archers into the distance. They seemed to be curious about what the archers were up to, prancing around and coming closer to them here and there.

Petal didn’t appear too happy about that, however, not one bit. From what Tommy could see, she was dancing around her partner, keeping him between her and the correts. And it looked like Ty was laughing.

But the new birds returned to the main body of the troop after a while, settling in and travelling behind them near the artock. They still stayed about half a bowshot away and continued their trilling conversation with the troop’s correts, but seemed to find comfort travelling with the other animals.

“Hey, Camm? Where do you think they came from?” Tommy asked, dropping back to talk with the gnome.

Camm rubbed his big nose, his other hand keeping a firm grip on the lead of their correts. “Dunno, Tommy. Your da’ was real concerned and asked the same thing. They have to be from a farm around here somewhere, but I’ve never heard of anyone raising correts around here.”

“Where do they normally come from?”

“The Endless Plains. I know they raise them in huge flocks in Baasondee and a couple of other places, but not around here.”

“How come?”

“Most people find them too difficult to handle. You have to start with them as chicks, and then keep handling them until they’re adults. If you don’t, they go back to being wild.”

“Huh,” Tommy said, eying the new birds.

“But them? They’re tame. Spooked to the gods by something, but tame. They have to be. Wild ones would have been long gone by now. See the one in the lead? The one with the strap? That’s the head of their group,” Camm said, pointing out the bird.

Tommy studied them. Their long thin feathers draped over them like a fluffy carpet, shading from gold to brown the further from their heads it went. There were variations in color here and there, with some more gold or brown than the others, but no major differences. Tommy’d heard stories that the Endless Plains were full of waist high grasses, and he’d bet the correts would blend right in.

One of the birds caught him looking and fixed its eyes on him, a few of the others joining in as well. Tommy quickly looked away, not liking being the center of attention of a flock of predatory birds. They kept staring at him even after he looked away, and it was making him nervous.

“Oi, don’t stare them in the eye and you’ll be okay,” Camm said. “It’s a challenge between members of a flock.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tommy said, eyeing the birds that were still looking his way. Bet Petal is a nervous wreck, he thought.

They continued south into the early afternoon, passing a few groves of trees in the distance. It had been about an hour since they’d stopped for lunch when the troop came to a halt, the command to relax being passed down the line. Tommy craned his neck, seeing his da’ talking to Mikus, Keris, and Saress, pointing this way and that. They seemed to come to some decision, and Saress jogged off while using hand signals to get her archer’s attention.

“We’re going to hold here for a while,” Donnor said, walking back to stand about halfway down the line. “Let me get everyone’s attention.” He waited for a bit until everyone stopped talking, the new correts trotting off into the distance after Saress.

“The scouts can’t see any cover in front of us for leagues; it’s just open plains. In the open, we’re not big enough or fast enough to handle a large force of ondilaan, so we’re going to find a place to hole up for the night earlier than usual. The ondilaan seem to like fighting at night, and I want a secure position in case they travel at the night, too. We might be here for a while, so everyone stand easy while we wait.”

Mikus and Keris walked the line, talking to their people while Donnor walked back towards Ari and Tommy. “Ari, can you do anything to help hide us out here?”

“I’ll need a fixed area and anyone travelling outside of it will not be covered, but, yes, something can be done. It will be the same as it was on the way to Resthaven.”

“The depression after the ambush?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I was worried since there’s no cover.”

“It would be easier if there was. What I do is blend us into the terrain around us. The less exposed we are, the more effective it will be. I know another way but it is much more difficult, and I won’t be able to maintain it for long.”

“Well, here’s hoping Saress can find something for the night. You can almost see to the horizon here; we stick out like a sore thumb,” his da’ muttered, walking back to the front of the line.

About an hour later Saress returned and the troop got underway. They marched along the road to where there was a sudden dip dropping below the lay of the land. The old road continued on, but they turned away following the depression west. It was an old stream bed, Dap said, translating for the sprites when he asked. And they walked along it for another hour or so, only needing to stop once or twice to help the wagon pass softer ground.

They eventually stopped in midafternoon near a few large rocks. His da’ ordered camp to be set up and watches placed, then had Ahton and the sprites head back the way they came to hide any sign of their passing. Everyone used the extra time to care for their gear, most settling down to sharpen their blades while Tonat started the evening meal.

Saress came back after placing the watches, speaking to his da’ for a while. The leaders had been pouring over a map while Saress was out, the discussion ending as Donnor and Saress left to come their way. “Ari? Tommy? Watches are set. I’m going to leave Saress with you, so do whatever you have to. Do you need anything from us?”

“No, Ilari.”

“Good. While you’re doing your magic, we’re going to try and figure out where those correts came from. Their tracks led west, but Keris said there’s nothing out that way. Maybe there’s a hamlet out there, but there’s nothing on the map. It’s not like they just appeared out of thin air …” he muttered as he walked away.

Ari watched him go. “Saress, do the watches know they will not be able to see us clearly if they are outside of my working?”

“Yes, Nisa Saliantrea. They have set paths to follow back to camp.”

“Then let us begin. Come, Tomilanthus, center your Tol. This will take some time.”

The Road to Silverlake

Tommy was shaken awake for his shift by Hili, one of Laren’s archers. “C’mon, Tommy. Time to wake up for your watch.”

Tommy rolled out of his blankets, coming alert. He looked around camp under the light of the twin moons, everyone fast asleep except for Keris sitting by the wagon and the low fire there. The fire was all but coals, its red glow barely illuminating his face. Keris nodded his way when Tommy rose, the camp surrounded by the sounds of the insects in the night.

Tommy donned his armor, gathered his gear, and was about to walk over when Kordin jogged into camp. “Keris,” the gnome whispered sharply. “Ondilaan to the east.”

Keris was instantly was more alert. “How many?” he asked while Tommy and Hili trotted over to join them.

“A lot. Can’t see ‘em real good, but we think they’re on the road.”

“Damn. Wake up Donnor and let him know. Tommy, Hili, let’s go,” Keris ordered as he grabbed his equipment and trotted off to the east.

The three of them jogged out of camp and into the night, following what looked like an animal trail to Tommy’s eyes. The trail followed a low point through the terrain, and a few minutes later they saw Avad and Curren lying in the ground in front of them. They were peaking nervously out over the top of a small rise, and Curren turned as they approached.

“Shhhhh,” Curren quietly admonished, waving for them to keep their heads down. “Ondilaan,” he mouthed.

Tommy joined Keris and Hili stealthily approaching the rise. Then ever so slowly, they raised their heads above it so they could see.

There were ondilaan there in the distance, many of them. Individually, they were but specks to Tommy’s eyes, but there were so many of them that they were easy to see. He studied the throng as they appeared and disappeared, following the road while it rose and sank with the land.

“That’s a lot of ondilaan,” Tommy muttered.

“Tommy, how many of them do you see?” Keris asked.

“A lot.” He was getting nervous, and lost track after counting at least fifty.

“Could you be a little more specific?” Keris sounded exasperated.

“I dunno, at least a hundred? Probably more? You can see them yourself. Look at them all,” Tommy said as a new group rose out of the terrain in the distance.

“Tommy, I can’t see a damn thing except a big blob moving in the distance. If it wasn’t for the moons, I wouldn’t be able to even see that.”

Tommy glanced at him, then remembered his elven heritage. “Sorry, Keris, I forgot. Ummm, there’s easily a hundred or more. It’s hard to tell. They keep going up and down with the land.”

“What’re they doing?”

“Walking north. There’s a great big group of them in the middle, then a bunch of tiny groups around that one.”

“Gods. Can you see where we left the road? You should be able to pick out a sharp dip in the terrain. Follow the stream bed with your eyes, it should be a little north of due east.”

Tommy was looking for it when his da’ and Saress arrived.

“Report,” Donnor brusquely ordered.

“About a hundred ondilaan to the east, moving north. Tommy, did you find where we came in yet?”

“I think so. They’re not close to it yet, but they’re heading right for it. Probably a couple more minutes before they get there.”

“Keris, go wake up the camp and keep them quiet. I woke Mikus up; the sprites woke up when he did. Prepare them for battle. Hopefully the ondilaan’ll leave.

“Yes, Commander,” Keris said, sliding down on his belly and then jogging stealthily away.

“Saress, do you see them?” Donnor asked.

“Yes, Strike Leader. There are over a hundred in sight in the main group, with roving patrols of ten to twenty surrounding them. I count three, no four patrols. The ondilaan are relaxed, moving at a walk. They are maybe ten minutes from where we left the road.”

“Are there any more?”

“Not that I can see, Strike Leader.”

“Fine. Head back to camp and brief Mikus and Keris. I’ll stay here with Tommy and he can be my eyes. Check in on the other watches and make sure this is the only group.”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

“Hili, Avad, Kordin, Curren, spread out along the lip in pairs. I’ll stay here with Tommy.”

They acknowledged and moved off, Tommy moving around to get more comfortable. The chill of the ground only added to his tension.

“Tell me what you see,” his da’ said.

“The big group is moving towards where we left the road. The little groups are moving around it like Saress has our archers do. They haven’t moved that far from where they were.”

“Nervous?” his da’ asked after a while. The mass of ondilaan had moved steadily north, easily seen by Tommy under the light of the two moons.

“Yeah.”

“Where are they now?”

“Almost to where we left the road.”

“Any change in how they’re moving?”

“No.”

They continued to watch as the ondilaan advanced. There was a distant hehehe on the wind, picked up by more than one of them before the calls trailed off, silence returning to the plains.

“One of the little groups is about to get to where we turned off,” Tommy said.

“Let me know if there’s any change in how the ondilaan are moving.” His da’ glanced behind Tommy, Saress appearing with her eyes on the advancing horde.

“There are no other signs of ondilaan, Strike Leader. The troop is awake and ready to fight or move. Your orders?”

“None. They’re about to reach where we turned off. If they find our trail, we move west and try to break contact. If they don’t, we stand down and try and get some more sleep.”

“Their first patrol is at our turning point,” Saress reported.

Tommy noticed the same thing, watching as the distant figures disappeared down into the streambed. Tommy sensed Saress tensing beside him as time moved on, the figures not reappearing.

“Oh, shite …” Tommy mumbled.

“There,” Saress said after a moment longer, then relaxed noticeably. “The first patrol has passed our trail,” she said as the distant figures reappeared, continuing on their way.

Donnor sighed. “Now all we need is for the rest of them to do that as well, and we’ll be good.”

Silence returned as they resumed watching the ondilaan. Eventually the entire group passed the troop’s turning point and continued off into the distance.

“Okay, we’re safe for the moment. Think they’ll turn around when they find our trail further north?”

“I don’t know, Strike Leader, but the stray correts may have helped with that. They’ve moved back and forth over our trail since we met them, and part of the ch’ten moved further back our line of travel from where we turned to obscure it even more. They were breaking sore hedge branches across our path as they went, letting the sap’s odor spread. If our scent is there, it will be faint and mixed with that and the correts. And in the dark, our wagon tracks will blend in with the others on the road.”

“I’ll take it. Avad, Kordin, Curren, you’re with me. Saress, stay here until you feel you no longer need to. I’m going to head back and try to get the troop back to sleep if they can.”

“Think any of them will?” Tommy asked.

“No. But they might fake it,” his da’ admitted as he turned and walked away.

***

Tommy finished his watch, Saress staying until the ondilaan were only specks in the distance. Hili and he remained after she’d left, easily staying awake after what they’d seen. Both of them were even more wide awake after the ondilaan completely disappeared, the night suddenly more threatening with them imagining what might be out there, in the dark. But the sun was rising when their watch ended, Sollip fetching them to return to camp. And Tommy was glad for it, tired of jumping at every little sound as the night wore on.

Ari must have been tearing down her working as Tommy rounded the corner following their trail towards camp. He felt a faint tension in the air dissipate, the same tension he’d been feeling all night. Then what looked to his eyes like any other field of grass on the plain, blurred and changed into a wide game trail. Almost immediately, Ari and the camp came into view.

He joined the leaders standing by the wagon, and an intense council was underway. They were discussing the ondilaan that had passed in the night, and what, if anything, they could do about it. Opinions and suggestions ranged far and wide, but nothing was settled. And after everything was loaded, and the artock and wagon were ready to go, they returned to the road.

The old road looked as if an army had gone through. The grass on and around the road was trampled down, and fresh scat added to the sour smell of the ondilaan’s passing. The troop quieted as they saw this, his da’ pausing to let Saress and the scouts see if they could tell anything from the tracks. After consulting with the ch’ten, Saress confirmed that around two hundred ondilaan had passed in the night, but could tell no more, the tracks of so many obscuring their numbers.

It was a sobering announcement.

The leaders weighed their options, Keris talking about returning to Brookside and sending word to Varmen’s Shoal and Redtail by boat. But Donnor disagreed, and his points were solid. The ondilaan outnumbered them. They needed food. They didn’t have the supplies to make it to Brookside as a group. And fighting a running battle against an enemy at least four times their size was just dumb.

This ended any talk about the troop moving to follow them, Keris visibly upset that such a large force had passed them by. There was a lot of talk about what the ondilaan were going to do, and the people from Resthaven were particularly upset. It’d made its way through the troop that the old road led to Resthaven, and they were worried about their loved ones there. Tommy noticed Mikus pulling the twins aside, the two young women’s haunted gaze fixed on the north.

A few other members of the troop offered to head out on their own to warn the villages, but his da’ had some insights for them as well. He agreed it was very brave and he wouldn’t stop them, but in one’s and two’s they be on their own against over two hundred ondilaan. Ultimately, the ondilaan were between them and their goal. Donnor said he’d supply anyone who wanted to try with enough food to get them to Brookside, but after that they’d be on their own. The troop just didn’t have enough food to spare.

In the end no one decided to leave, Donnor’s hard truths winning through.

So, turning south, they continued on their march towards Silverlake. Keris was almost constantly looking back north, his face set in a frown, and others did too. The tension only increased the further they went, walking among the fresh signs of the ondilaan. The smell of the ondilaan bothered everyone; Tommy didn’t like it, and nobody else did either, but he pointedly didn’t say anything to Keris. The haggard look on Keris’s face that had been dwindling ever since leaving Brookside, had come back to the fore once more.

Saress pushed the archers out, the flock of correts following them into the distance. They eventually returned, settling into the place they seemed to like the best behind the wagon, but their heads never stopped weaving, watching this way and that as they kept pace with troop. And the troop ignored them while they continued on their journey, the correts seeming to take comfort in the troop’s company.

Tommy descended into silence, as most of them had. The leaders continued to call out if anyone had seen this or that thing, and people did respond, but nothing could take away wondering what would happen when the ondilaan eventually reached Resthaven or Varmen’s Shoal. The stress of their wonderings ate at them, and they kept a wary eye on the rolling plains and meadows around them as they travelled. The muttering continued for hours, slowly dwindling off over time.

They continued through the morning; the day pleasant though cool. A steady wind from the west gusted periodically taking the ondilaan’s stench with it when it did. There were signs of small game here and there rustling in the grass and brush around them, and small flocks of birds winged their way through the sky, lightening everyone’s mood. High up a hawk or an eagle cried, it’s wings seeming to shimmer in the glare of the sun, but no matter how peaceful nature was, the signs of the ondilaan remained.

The scouts found a spring a bit later, a little ways off the road, and they stopped there for lunch. The ondilaan had stopped there too, but surprisingly hadn’t soiled the water. It was fresh and pure, and fed a small rivulet that wound its way to the east. So, after refilling their skins and the artock’s barrel they ate their meal, doing their best to ignore the stench. Then with no reason to stay, they moved on, continuing south on their search for the road to Silverlake.

About an hour later they found it, and the intersection of the roads was a right mess.

The new road travelled almost due west, and it was obvious the ondilaan had passed that way as well. Marked by a strange pile of bones, the intersection of the roads was a signpost of horror. The remains of various races were piled high in the road, long since picked clean by the scavengers in the area. And they were arranged in a grisly pattern, the skulls of some of them scratched in a strange manner.

The bones were old, and Tommy realized whatever had happened here had happened long ago. This did not bode well for Silverlake, he realized, as he studied the macabre scene. The horror written on the faces of the twins made him angry, and his anger only increased when he saw long, feminine hair still attached to one of the skulls.

They moved past the gruesome marker, Donnor ordering them not to touch it as they continued on their way. Tommy noticed sticks scratched in a deliberate manner littered amongst the bones, and there were two large piles of scat there as well. Both had been purposely placed north and south along the signpost, and Tommy wondered why that was. But he didn’t give it more than a passing thought, not entirely happy they couldn’t tear the whole thing down.

The road to Silverlake wasn’t as wide as the old road, but it was easily wide enough for the wagon. It took a bit to get the wagon around the ondilaan’s marker without disturbing it, but they managed, everyone glad to get going once they were through.

A few minutes after they’d left, the sprites began speaking. “What are they saying, Dap?” Tommy asked, falling back to walk beside the wagon.

“They think we will not find much at Silverlake.”

“Why’s that?”

“The tracks,” Dap answered, pointing at the ground which was littered with droppings. “The scat is old, and they think this means none have recently come this way. All the other places where the ondilaan went we found either battle or destruction. They think these old signs means the village is long destroyed. Right now, they’re debating if the ondilaan are gone.”

“Makes sense. I wouldn’t mind not fighting.”

“Me either, Tommy.”

“I would not mind that as well, Tomilanthus.” Ari said as he returned to her side, having overheard the conversation.

“Do you know how far we have to go?”

“No. Your father said we should get to Silverlake sometime this afternoon or evening, barring any other misfortune. It cannot be too soon after seeing that marker on the road.”

Tommy shivered. “So anytime now.”

“Yes.”

She turned her head as the correts made a noise behind them. Tommy turned and saw the new correts prancing before moving together left and right of the road. After a bit, the one in front let out a piercing whistle before leading the group off to the north and coming to a halt in the distance. They stood there, watching the troop as they continued on.

“Wonder where they’re going,” Tommy said as Ahton watched a while before whistling to Dap. They spoke back and forth before Dap turned to him.

“Tommy, Ahton wants someone to let the Commander know something has spooked the correts. They no longer follow us. He asks him to be on guard.”

“Aye. I’ll let him know,” Tommy said, then trotted up the line. “Da’, the sprites say something is spooking the new correts. They’re not following us anymore and Ahton wants you be on guard.”

“Yeah. We’d be pretty stupid to ignore that. Head on back, we’ll stop in a bit.”

Donnor brought the troop to a halt a short while later after conferring with Saress. They stopped in a small dell slightly off to the side of the road, and Mikus and Keris allowed the men to snack if they wanted to. The animals were brought in close while his da’ called Saress, Dap, and Ahton to his side. They spoke for some time before the sprites and the archers trotted off to the west, the sprites grabbing bits of foliage and adding it to their clothing before once again blending almost effortlessly into the terrain. The troop set watches looking over the lip of the dell, and they settled in to wait.

Tommy started worrying. The insidious kind of worry that always seemed to infect him whenever they were waiting for something to happen. The correts wouldn’t spook for nothing. Sure, the signs were old, but for all he knew there was another army of ondilaan out there. And no one knew anything more than he did, which meant he’d just have to wait like all the rest. He eyed the rim of the dell, wondering when the scouts would come back.

He glanced towards the pair on watch for the hundredth time when his da’ walked up, a patently fake smile plastered upon his face. “Tommy, stop pacing.”

“Huh?”

“You’re pacing back and forth. Stop it.”

“I didn’t even know I was doing it.”

“You need to. It’s unsettling the men.”

“How can me pacing bother the men?”

“You’ve been put in charge a couple of times now; they’re starting to look to you for guidance.”

“Huh? Nobody looks to me for anything.”

“Trust me, they do. Look. I’m tense, too. Just calm down.”

“Tense? You’re walking around like you don’t have a care in the world!”

“Shush.” He grinned another fake grin. “I am, too.” His da’ put his arm around Tommy’s shoulder, leading him further away from the troop. “This is a hard lesson in leadership, but you need to learn it. Part of being a good leader is putting on an act from time to time.”

“An act? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you’re in charge, people look to you to figure out what’s going on. If you’re tense and nervous, they’re going to be tense and nervous as well figuring you know something they don’t. The more nervous you are, the more worked up they’ll be. And if it goes on too long, it will lead to fear. Unfocused fear can get you killed.

“Look at Keris there. See how he keeps his thumb in his belt, rubbing his fingers in a circle on his leg? That’s what he does when he’s nervous. See Mikus? How he keeps scratching his beard? That’s what he does. That’s how I can tell I need see what’s going on.

“None of what they’re doing is obvious, and none of it affects the troop, but people are starting to look to you. And pacing back and forth wearing a trench in the dirt is making them nervous.”

“Well … I am nervous.”

“Then come with me, Tomilanthus,” Ari said, walking up from behind. “We can practice your Tol while we wait.”

“Did you hear all of that?”

She looked at him pointedly. “I’m an elf, Tomilanthus, the ears aren’t for show. Tonat and her child probably heard it too.” Tommy winced, looking around. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about being nervous, and everyone understands, but your father is correct. Practicing will distract you.”

“But you two never get nervous.”

His da’ laughed. “Yes, she does. Every time she strokes her hair her mind is going faster than a bird can fly.”

Ari threw Donnor a look. “And some people cannot hold their tongues, babbling away about other people without thinking. But that’s a discussion for another time. Come with me, Tomilanthus.”

She led him back to the wagon to practice, and his Tol must have picked up on his nerves as well. It was much more active than it was before, roiling around in the background of his inner self without really doing anything. They ignored it, deciding to practice his defense. Ari’s Tol once again took on that almost threatening feel after they entered the Tol’An, and he concentrated on doing whatever he could to pierce her working while that part of him in the distance kept close watch. This made for an interesting image in his mind: Ari and he traveling along a golden webwork of light while a thundercloud followed them close behind.

Some time later the archers returned jogging low to the ground without Saress or the sprites. Ari flared her Tol to get Tommy’s attention and stopped their practice. Laren and Immer reported to his da’ while the rest of the archers took up station on the rim of the dell. His da’ listened to them for a bit before calling Tommy, Ari, and the other leaders to his side.

“Okay, start over.”

“Aye, Commander,” Laren said. “Silverlake is a little over an hour from here. It looks completely destroyed and we were about to go in before one of the sprites dropped flat. We all got down and watched for a time, and that’s when the first ondilaan walked out. We watched them for about an hour, and it looks like there might be a whole tribe in there making it their home.”

“How many?”

“Dunno. Ten, fifteen easy. It’s hard to see since Silverlake sits on a hill above the road. There’s no good place to see down into it. Most of the buildings are destroyed, but not all. Saress is up there with Dap and the sprites right now keeping an eye on things, and wants to know what you want to do.”

“Any chance you were seen?”

“Uh, no.”

“You’re sure?”

“Not unless they like mating in front of people watching them,” Laren said, wryly. “The one bitch and her mate were going at it like dogs, down by the lake.”

Mikus laughed.

“Only one?” Keris asked.

“No. We seen two others besides that one getting frisky.”

“Donnor, that’s three females. That’s not a tiny tribe.”

“How do you figure?”

“There were only eight female corpses in Resthaven; and only one outside of Brookside and Varmen’s Shoal. If you go by the number of corpses, we’ve had one female for every thirty or so warriors we’ve seen.”

“That would be around a hundred ondilaani warriors then.” Ari piped in.

“You see any numbers like that, Laren? Immer?”

“No, Commander,” Immer replied. “Like Laren said, we only saw ten or fifteen. But, there’s no way to see inside the village itself.”

“Damn. No high ground either?”

“Well, yeah. Silverlake’s right up against the western hills, plenty of high ground there. But it’d take a day or two to get there; without being seen, that is.”

“We don’t have a day or two, too much could go wrong. Ari? Anything you can do?”

“There are many things I can do, Ilari. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, there’s roughly fifty of us now. We can’t take on a hundred warriors in open battle. There’s just no way.”

“I can’t either, Donnor.”

“How about that thing you did back in Resthaven?”

“Sure, and I’d be unconscious again for days. Saress would kill me for even bringing it up, then you for suggesting it.”

“Can’t Tommy help?”

“He’d have to, and then he’d be unconscious for days as well. Donnor, the an’tor is horribly devastating, I’m not going to tell you it isn’t. But it is a working of last resort, not a battle plan. There are only a select few who are trained in college to use it, and even then, they assign teams of mages to attempt it, never by ourselves.”

“How’d you stay on your feet then?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Donnor blinked at her, looking surprised.

“Glad ya’ were able ta’ then, lass,” Mikus said.

“So am I.”

“Okay. Well, if you can’t help, you can’t help,” Donnor said.

“Oh, I can help. There are plenty of things I can do. Don’t worry about protecting the wagon and our supplies for instance. Not distracted by anything else, I can easily defend them for you. But as soon as any wounded need to be treated, I have to choose what to do. I cannot attack and heal at the same time.”

“I don’t want you in combat in the first place, but needs must. And I was going to ask you to cover our rear anyway. Consider that settled; you can heal after the battle is done. Lari? Rast? Can the ch’ten get any closer? Maybe sneak into the village? See what they can see?” Donnor asked the two sprites.

“They might be able to, Commander. It would be Ahton’s decision,” Lari said.

“And he’s at the front,” Donnor trailed off, thinking. “Is there anywhere with cover closer to the village?”

“Yeah,” Immer replied. “There’s a few depressions like this one, but as soon as you get to the village itself, it’s all open ground. It’s a flat meadow; no trees, but lots of shrubs and grass.”

“Hmmm. What do you think, Mikey? Keris? Head closer, stop in cover. See if Saress or the sprites can sneak in. Kill any sentries if they can. Retreat if their numbers are too high.”

“Sounds like a plan, ta’ me,” Mikus agreed.

“Set up a defense in the next spot?” Keris asked.

“We’ll figure that out when we get there,” Donnor replied. “Head back to your ranks. Gear up, shields and helmets on, packs on the wagon. This time we know where they are and they don’t know we’re here, let’s use that to our advantage. There’s no sense carrying the extra weight.

“Laren? Immer? Send a man each back to Saress and Ahton. Let them know we’re on our way. Form up on the flanks with your remaining men, we’ll pick up your runners when we get there. Off with you.

“Ari, you and Tommy have the animals. Stay close and stay with them. Alarat and Camm will stay with you. I need a better idea of what we’re going to do before I make any more decisions. We only have about four hours till sundown, and that’s not a lot of time.”

“Should we even be moving forward?” Ari asked, her concern evident.

“It’s a risk. The wind has been from the west all day, so our scent isn’t heading in their direction. And, as far as we know, they haven’t seen us. So, our chances of surprising them are pretty high. The only thing I don’t like is not being able to see up in that village. That, and possibly attacking uphill. But, it is what it is.

“Anyway, I gave my word to fight the ondilaan when and where I found them, and Maorilan is depending on us. That army last night? There was just no way. But here? With only ten or fifteen? We should overwhelm them easily.”

“And if there’s more?”

“If there’s more and we can surprise them, it’s still something we can do. But only from surprise. That’s the catch. I’m hoping they’ll be asleep like at Brookside.”

“And if not? If they’re alert and we can’t surprise them?”

“Then it’s an hour walk there, and hour walk back. We set up back here, settle in for the night, and figure out what to do in the morning. A hundred ondilaan can destroy every village north of here. Add that to the army last night, and that’s enough to threaten the Hold.”

“That’s enough to destroy us, as well, Ilari,” she pointed out.

“And us as well,” he agreed. “We can’t just let them go if there’s something we can do about it. I couldn’t do anything about them last night, but I can do something here. And if the gods’ll let me, I will,” he concluded, turning away and walking back towards his men.

Silverlake

Day 223 – We got to Silverlake a little before sundown and it wasn’t what anybody expected. You can see the village over …

Laren had been right; it only took the troop about an hour to get to Silverlake. They made their approach with spears down in case the ondilaan saw their tips in the air, and as they got closer, Laren guided the troop off towards the left side of the road. They travelled south a short way parallel to a low hill and stopped in a gully nestled in the roll of the land. Then Laren trotted off, taking care to stay below the top of the hill.

His da’ had the troop face the hill in ranks, then called the leaders together. “Silverlake is over that rise. Laren is getting our people; they were supposed to wait where this hill meets the lake,” Donnor said, as Tommy and Ari walked up.

“Any word on the ondilaan?”

“No, Keris, same as before. Laren said he’s pretty sure they are in the village, but it’s above where they can see. So, there’s no definite count.”

“I don’ be likin’ this.”

“I don’t like it either. Mikus? Keris? Let’s take a look while we wait. Tommy, you’re with me. Ari, you want to see?”

“No, Ilari. I think I’ll visit with the troop. Anything you want me to say?”

“No. And thanks, they’ll appreciate it.”

“I know they will.” She smiled.

“Better watch, lad. She be takin’ over.”

“She already has.” Donnor grinned.

Ari smiled and spun, her skirt twirling out as she returned to the troop.

“Okay. Tommy, keep your spear down and stay low. When we get up there, lay down and crawl the rest of the way to the top. Remember, quick movements attract attention. Now let’s go see what we can see.”

Tommy followed the others up the slope, then the four of them slowly crawled forward, bringing Silverlake into view. The rise they were on was the last high point in front of them.

And the last of their cover, as well.

The lake sat off to the left, and immediately captured their attention. It was larger than Tommy had thought it would be, with an island far off in its center. The lake itself was shimmering a beautiful blue, its crystal-clear waters noticeable from even this distance. And he could easily see beneath the surface, even with the waves lapping against the top of some boulders just off shore.

Also along shore were small boats beached haphazardly here and there. Most looked like they’d been destroyed in a fire, which brought memories of Lakeside back to Tommy’s mind, but there were one or two that didn’t look as damaged. They were pulled up near a pavilion, it’s sad torn roof fluttering and flapping in the breeze.

Past that lonely structure was a cliff of sheer, smooth rock rising sharply out of the waters of the lake. There were boulders sticking out of the waves at its base; jagged square shapes that reclined where they stood. But the rest of the hill was more gently sloped, rising languidly from the meadow towards its peak. Traversing that easy rise was the road, winding its way back and forth up to the village.

Silverlake had been completely destroyed. Tommy could see a handful of houses that still had vertical walls, but other than that, the village was no more. Charred timbers marked where some of the structures had been, while piles of debris pointed towards others. But there were no bodies, none that he could see. He could easily imagine them, though, lying in the dirt amongst the wreckage. And as he looked out over the somber scene, he realized it was another testament to the devastation the ondilaan brought with them.

This is what Resthaven would have looked like, Tommy realized, looking past the village towards the hills in the distance. The pristine beauty cleansed his eyes, but it didn’t do a thing to remove the stench of the ondilaan that was wafting on the breeze. He glanced back towards the village, squinting his eyes, and tried to imagine what it would have been like before the ondilaan came.

The boats along shore would have been full of happy villagers bringing in their catch. And there was the path from shore wending its way up, going deeper into the village. That house there might have had two stories to it once, probably the mayor’s house. And over there, that collapsed pile was probably a barn or something where they stored their supplies. He could imagine living here; it was sad it was no more.

Donnor slid silently back down from the rise, the rest following until they got back down to the troop. The ranks were talking in whispers, eating where they stood. Ari walked over as they finished their descent.

“I had them eat to keep them occupied. What did you see?”

“We have problems.”

“Aye. There be no cover from this bloody rise all the way ta’ tha’ village. They’ll see us fer’ sure.”

“Yep, Mikey. There is that. But there’s also not a single ondilaan in sight. I was expecting to see at least one, maybe two, but there wasn’t a single one. Where are they?”

“Who knows. I didn’t see Saress or the sprites either,” Keris chimed in.

“Not surprised by that. If we had, they wouldn’t be doing their job.”

“What ya’ be wantin’ ta’ do? We’re only havin’ about two more hours before tha’ sun goes down. We need ta’ be figurin’ it out.”

“We can’t do anything until Saress and the ch’ten come back. Head back to your ranks. I want two watchers up on the rise, and a pair north and south of us along this gully at all times. We’ll figure out what we’re doing when we get more information.”

They all split up, Mikus and Keris heading back to walk the line. His da’ did too, spending time talking to the men. Tommy followed Ari back to the artock, Ari turning aside to chitter brokenly back and forth with Tonat.

“Oi, Tommy. What did you see?”

“Not much, Camm. The village is gone, long since burnt down. Almost nothing’s still there. The lake’s off to the left and the village sits above it on a hill.”

“You see any ondilaan?”

“No. And Da’ said that’s weird.”

“What we doing now?”

“Waiting. Help me get a ration out of my pack?”

“Sure. Ain’t nothing been going on back here. We’ve been wondering, though. You … ummm … you see any people? Like back in Brookside?”

“No. And thank the lost gods for that. I don’t think I could look at another pile.”

“Me neither,” Alarat agreed, ambling up.

“Where are the correts?”

“Over there,” Alarat said, hooking his thumb back towards the artock. “They’re edgy. Know something’s coming.”

“Yeah. We all are,” Tommy agreed, munching on his ration while looking back towards the top of the rise. He really wanted to pace.

***

About a half an hour later the scouts returned and his da’ called the leaders over. “Okay, let’s have it.”

“Yes, Donnor,” Saress said, lowering her hood. “The ondilaan are inside the village. They’ve dug some kind of pit they’re climbing into and out of, but I couldn’t get close enough to see inside.”

“The ch’ten travelled along the outskirts of the village,” Dap said. “After the female finished mating, the ondilaan returned and climbed down into the pit. There are a few ondilaan outside the hole, but they appear to be sleeping.”

“That’s just like Brookside. Do they always sleep like this before sunset?” Donnor asked. “It’s a huge advantage if it’s true.”

“Nobody knows, Commander. It’s not like we talk to them,” Keris said.

His da’ was rubbing his chin, deep in thought. “Is there any chance we can sneak up on them like we did in Brookside?”

“Doubtful, Strike Leader,” Saress said. “There are no watchers looking out, true, but there are more than a few lying around the edges of the village. They’re dozing in the ruins, but the noise we’d make crossing the field would wake them, surely. There is nothing to prevent them from seeing our approach.”

A conversation began among the sprites, Dap cocking his head and asking many questions. Ahton eventually slapped his hand twice on his chest, and the conversation ceased. Then he spoke pointedly to Dap before falling silent.

“The ch’ten offers to eliminate the watchers,” Dap said.

“There’s only nine of you,” Donnor said, meeting Ahton’s eyes.

“They offer to do this,” Dap translated. “Ahton says they can silence the watchers if given the chance, but can do nothing to prevent any of the others from seeing or hearing the troop’s approach.”

“I can do something about that, Ilari.”

“How’s that?”

“I’ll need Tommy, and the drain will be harsh, but we can use our Tol to cover your approach. It will not prevent us from being seen, but it will trick the mind into looking past us. It will seem as if we are waving grass, blowing branches, or something along those lines while we move. The noise will be sounds of nature, wind in the trees, animal sounds, and other things like that.

“This is the other way I can hide things that I mentioned last night. The problem is that once someone sees us, the working is done. Loud noises will disrupt it, too. Once an alarm is raised, it’s over.”

“How long can you keep it up?”

“I don’t know. Doing this is relatively easy on a fixed area; it’s meant to hide a camp after all. I’ve never tried to do it on more than a handful of moving people. For the troop …” She shrugged. “I just don’t know. That’s why I’ll need Tommy, I’m not certain how bad the drain will be.”

“We’ve got to cover about three full bow shots of open ground. Think you can do that?”

“I think so, Ilari.”

“Good enough. Ahton, how much time do you need to kill the ondilaan in the outskirts of the village?”

Dap had been translating. “He says not long. They will go in like leaves on the wind, and cover their blades with a plant a that will help.”

“More sprite poison?” Keris asked.

“It freezes the limbs,” Dap replied. “It will not kill, but it stops all movement. They will be working more to spread its effects than kill.”

“How long does it last?”

“Hours.”

“Then I think we have a plan,” Donnor said, looking up at the sky. “We have about an hour and a half till sunset. Ahton, how much time do you need.”

Ahton whistled, sounding exactly like one of the small birds that flitted about. He waved, Tommy noticing Tonat waving back and coming their way. “He says to start your approach when the sun is just above this rise.”

Donnor glanced at the sun. “That will give us about an hour to finish this up. Do you need Saress and the other archers?”

“He says no, they will only be in the way. They will eliminate the ondilaan on this side only, then retreat. You will pass them on your way to the village, then they will guard the Lady. If there are problems, he will call like the evening owl.”

“Okay,” Donnor replied.

Ahton and Tonat placed their foreheads together, grasping the back of each other’s heads and closing their eyes. Then Tonat handed Ahton a small vial, which he passed on to the other sprites. Ahton turned and placed his hand on Donnor’s chest, saying a few words and then walked away, leading his people up the hill.

“He said to fight well,” Dap translated.

Donnor watched them coating their blades with whatever was in the vial. They decorated themselves with earth to their hands and faces, and then plucked various plants before adding them to their clothing. They gave the leaders a determined look before disappearing over the top of the hill, all of them looking savage and grim.

Tommy was struck by how quickly the ch’ten blended into the terrain as they slunk away, remembering what his da’ had told him about their ability to hide. The sprites looked untamed and wild, and he was glad they were on their side no matter how small they were.

“You’re not going with them, Dap?” Tommy asked.

“No, I’d never keep up. They are from the wilds, Tommy. Scouting like I do for the troop? Sure, I can do that. Getting as close as they need to, to cut an ondilaan with a blade? With the ondilaan completely unaware? No, that’s beyond what I can do. In the wilderness compared to the ch’ten, I’m a babe.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Dap,” Donnor said. “Stay with Tonat and her child. Ari? Where do you need to be?”

“I need to be with you. Tommy and I can stay on the wagon. We’ll have to be there, doing this will take all my concentration and you’ll need to keep the wagon close behind the troop. Once you start fighting, the working will fail and I can do other things. But until then, it will be all I can do.”

“Fine. Saress, stay with them. Do what she needs you to,” Donnor said. “Mikus? Keris? We’ll lead off over this hill facing the village. Laren? Immer? Get your teams in behind Keris’s rank. Ari, see if the correts can be tied to the wagon, that’ll free up Alarat and Camm to protect the two of you.

“Saress, once we get to the village, stop the wagon and hold there; you’re our fallback position. Mikus, find that hole. Set up on top of it and don’t move. Keris, support Mikus. I’m figuring it’ll get confusing pretty quick, so make sure your people watch the sides and our backs.

“Laren? Immer? You two stay out of the village until we’re engaged. Once the fighting starts, you can come in, but stay towards the flanks if you can, and stay out of the melee. If you can’t do that, just stay out of the village and protect the wagon. There’s no sense in ending up dead for no reason.

“Ari? How will I know what you’re doing is working?”

“You won’t, Ilari. Anything I do to make my working visible to you will make it visible to anyone else.”

“Ach. Tha’ men will no’ be likin’ this.” Mikus shook his head. “Jus’ walkin’ across an open field? Out fer’ an evenin’ stroll?”

“It is what it is, old man. Ari, watch for my signal to begin. How long will you need?”

“Moments only, Donnor. Count to ten when you see me close my eyes, and my working will have already been in place.”

“Then we have our plan. Any questions? No? Okay, let’s do this.”

***

The wait was nerve wracking, but eventually Tommy noticed his da’ wave for them to begin.

Ari waved back. “One hand on me, Tomilanthus. The draw this time will be long and hard, but not as harsh as you’ve experienced. Saress, il’don’ton’wii.”

“See you later, sis,” Tommy said as he closed his eyes, catching a slight smile as she turned to watch over them.

Placing his hand on Ari, he felt the warm waves of her Tol fall over him as she began her draw. And as she pulled his Tol into wakefulness, what she did with it was astonishing. Whereas everything they’d done up to this point with their Tol had an obvious target, this time there was none.

Similar to how he made a mage globe, Ari started by forming bubbles of Tol on her body. But where she had formed a single bubble for every mage globe before, here she formed a series of bubbles along every pathway. Every single one. And all of those bubbles spewed forth infinitesimal threads of light in every direction. The filaments cast around them like a net, searching and questing for living things. And swiftly identifying the members of the troop, Ari enclosed them in a diaphanous webwork of light.

The gossamer strands spun themselves around the troop within moments. Streamers of greenish-gold light began to combine in a tartan pattern, only seen by his inner sight. And as it weaved itself into further definition, the gold of her Tol shimmered here and there amongst the weave. Then as the weave seemed to take on an almost physical shape, the golden part flared over the entire structure, binding it whole.

Tommy became more aware of what was going on around him as she finished, no longer focused on her work. Ari was repeating a soft litany of elvish, her voice mesmerizing as she chanted a phrase over and over again. Its strange harmony seemed to be coming from all around them, like multiple people speaking as one.

He realized the wagon was rocking and opened his eyes, still seeing the web Ari had worked before him. He realized he was seeing it with his inner sight, his inner vision overlaying everything around him. So, he took a moment to look around.

Only seconds had passed, the troop having just started its advance. Ari was beside him, chanting in that strange voice, and the sonorous tones of her voice plucked at the strands and rippled along the web. The delicate weave shimmered all around them, twinkling amongst the shadows on this side of the hill.

Saress noticed his eyes were open and nodded before turning away. She had a strange silvery-gold light surrounding her that was both welcoming and strange. And her two daggers were a deep, dusky red. Both were threatening to his senses, and seemed to watch him in return.

Tonat was standing fiercely over the sprite child, bow in hand. She seemed to have painted her face at some point, the markings reminding him of teeth and jaws. And there was a strange light about her he could barely discern, suffusing her in greens and browns.

He turned his head, everything coming through the haze of Tol around them. It constantly rippled in time with Ari’s words, flashing and flaring along its length. Alarat and Camm were leading the artock as the troop began cresting the rise. The correts behind them tied to the wagon, heads turning this way and that while their central eyes glowed red to his sight.

And as the wagon topped the hill, the light of the setting sun fell upon him and its glare washed away his inner sight. He looked away, noticing the reddish light of the sun was turning the autumn grass below the color of blood.

And Tommy hoped that wasn’t a sign of things to come.

Crossing the Field

“I hate this part.”

“Whaddya’ want, Donnor? Them ta’ fall dead before ya’?”

“It’d be kinda nice,” Keris put in, glancing down the ranks. “You should go ask them.”

“Oh, aye.” Mikus grinned, never once looking away from the village. “You first.”

Donnor snorted as he continued to study the terrain. They had three long bowshots of open field before they reached the first of the buildings. Well, the ruins of the buildings at least, he corrected. Gods, I wish there was more cover.

Donnor glanced to his right, eyeing the road on their flank. The road dipped between the rolls in the land before winding its way up towards the village. He followed the road with his eyes, something on it he couldn’t quite place. Then whatever it was moved, becoming a sprite for a couple of steps before turning back into a bush once more.

“I’ve got one of the ch’ten by the road,” Donnor reported.

“Aye. Got one by tha’ boats, as well,” Mikus said.

The members of the troop passed their sightings down the ranks, feeling wildly exposed. There was absolutely no sign of anything magical under way, and more than one of them looked back towards the wagon and Ari sitting there. Their nervous glances told Donnor all he needed to know about how they felt advancing across the field.

Donnor still didn’t like how close they were, but there was nothing he could do about it. Stay safe, my love, he thought, catching Tommy’s eye.

“Pass to the ranks: eyes front,” Donnor ordered. “Anyone see any ondilaan?”

He returned to scanning the hill while Mikus and Keris followed his orders. If he hadn’t known there were ondilaan in the village, he would have walked the troop right in. It was unnerving knowing they were up there while not seeing a thing.

Negative reports came back from the ranks; not an ondilaan in sight, nobody saw a thing. He glanced at Mikus, seeing him grimace before returning to scanning the hill.

“Maybe there are only ten or fifteen,” Keris muttered.

“Here’s ta’ hopin’, lad,” Mikus said, squinting while he scanned about.

“I hope so too,” Donnor replied.

“Tha’ hardest part’ll be getting’ off this blasted plain wi’ out bein seen.”

“No, the hardest part will be when we get to the base of the hill.”

Mikus grunted, understanding instantly.

Keris glanced back and forth between them, not understanding at all. “How’s that?”

“Once we’re there, if they’re out of sight over that rise, we’ve got problems,” Donnor answered.

“What problems?”

“We’ll be too far to charge up the hill before they get set, and too close for an orderly retreat if they come down.”

Keris returned to eyeing the hill, a new wariness about him as understanding set in. The minutes dragged on, time slowing down, and still no one saw a thing.

We should have seen something by now, Donnor thought, his tension rising. Should we retreat? Should we keep going? I don’t know ...

“If this don’ work, I’m no’ bein’ yer’ friend no more,” Mikus said.

“You could’ve said something if you didn’t like the plan,” Donnor said, looking for the enemy on the hill.

“I be likin’ tha’ plan. But if we’re endin’ up dead, I’ll be yer’ friend no more.”

Keris snorted, and so did everyone else within earshot. People glanced their way, wondering what could possibly be funny.

“Oh, shut up,” Donnor said, unable to keep a grin off his face. Mikus had always been able to take his mind off of worrying.

He looked down the line, the light from the setting sun glinting off the lake beyond Hartok and Dorn. They were at the end of the line and lagging behind, the ranks starting to bow more than they should. The new people with them were looking nervous, glancing back the way they’d come.

Can’t have that.

“Keris, break ranks. Take Hartok’s place at the end of the line. You have command over there if you need to.”

“Aye, Donnor. See you after.”

“Good luck,” Donnor called after him, keeping his voice low. “Gart, get up here,” he ordered.

Gart quickly took Keris’s place. “Commander?”

“Keris is taking command at the far end. I need someone to pass orders over here. You’re it.”

Gart looked at him and swallowed, before looking back towards the village. “Me?”

“We were talking about you the other day, but I need you now. You ever been in charge of anything?”

“No.”

“You want to be?”

“No ...” Gart’s eyes were wide.

“Good. Your job is simple, repeat the orders I give you, and do it loud. Can you do that?”

Gart eyed him, twisting his grip on his spear. “Aye …”

“An’ don’ be a pansy abou’ it, ‘neither,” Mikus said. “If yer no’ loud enou’, people be endin’ up dead.”

Donnor nodded, affirming what Mikus just said. “You keep your head in battle.” Donnor shrugged. “I need that. You’ll be fine.”

Gart studied him before glancing down the line, then fixed his gaze on the village.

Donnor didn’t comment about the white knuckled grip on his spear.

***

The troop continued its advance on the village. To Donnor, it looked like most of the houses had partially collapsed, the structures that remained looking like they’d been burnt somehow. Others were just ashes and coals marking where structures had been. And scraps of clothing and belongings were strewn here and there, hanging limply on lonely broken walls.

How much battle and destruction am I going to see? he asked, wondering if this is how Lakeside would be. Thank the lost gods we escaped.

“Oi. Look there, on tha’ left. Sprite got one,” Karn called, the creaking of the troops leathers almost drowning out his words.

Donnor glanced over, eventually finding what Karn was talking about. A bush moved, slowly edging its way from one house to next. And from where the bush once was, lay an ondilaan.

Its eyes were fixed upon the troop from what Donnor could see, its head resting on its paw-like hands. It was lying half behind the remains of a wall, its spotted pelt blending in with the scattered shadows of the ruins around it. There was no way he would have seen it himself, the black of the ondilaan’s greasy mane mirroring the shadow of the wall beside it.

“Bugger me,” Mikus said as the troop passed the half way point to the village. “Tha’ blasted sprites deserve a raise …”

“We’re getting paid?” Gart asked, eyeing the hill.

Mikus snorted.

“Quiet, dammit. Ari didn’t say how much noise her magic would cover and we’re getting close.” Donnor glanced down the ranks, seeing Keris urge the far end back to where it needed to be.

There was another movement up on the lip of the hill. A clump of dirt and debris shifted, accompanied by a flashing of light. A clatter of rocks broke the silence, the clump of dirt freezing before backing away behind some debris, the vacant eyes of another ondilaan left behind in its wake.

Those sprites are deadly, Donnor thought, looking for more.

An ondilaan called. A quiet, inquisitive hehehe, coming from inside the village. The sprite covered in rocks, sticks, and debris, froze once more with the sound.

Aw, hell.

“That’s done it. Let’s pick up the pace,” Donnor said.

Mikus started walking faster while Donnor whistled like one of the meadow birds. Keris looked over, Donnor signaling for him to speed up. Then Donnor looked back towards the wagon, catching Laren’s eye and waving him over.

“Yes, Commander?”

Another ondilaan’s inquisitive call came from inside the village, sounding tired. “They heard the noise. Back off, and back the wagon off, too.”

“Aye, Commander,” Laren said, trotting away.

***

Saress was perched on the wagon with an arrow nocked and ready, looking out over the troop like a lioness over her pride. The setting sun lit the fine hairs covering her face and hands, turning her a ruddy hue. She glanced at Tommy before returning to guard, seemingly eager to fight ever since hearing the ondilaan’s call.

Tonat, her fellow lioness, was standing ready behind her, eyeing the approaching rise. The little sprite girl chittered a question and Tonat replied, their voices barely audible. They could have been ground squirrels if Tommy didn’t know any better, just another sound of nature. And he eyed the rise along with them as Ari continued to feed his Tol into her working.

It was obvious to Tommy that this working was far, far, beyond him as one of the golden strands within the webwork of light broke. The strand in question had bulged out from in front of the troop, and if it could have, he would have thought it’d torn on a rock they’d passed by. But that was not the case.

Ari was doing all she could to keep the web defined within a certain space around the troop. And as the troop moved, she constantly had to redefine that space; making it conform to not only the troop, but to the terrain as well. Every single movement the troop made had to be taken into account, and the individual filaments were being constantly rearranged. The skill required to keep the working whole, while taking into account the troop, the animals, their movements, and the terrain around them, was mind blowing. And the struggle involved was what caused the webwork to bulge and fray.

The concentration his mother displayed was incredible.

A soft litany of elvish was coming from her lips, continuing unabated as the broken filament of light was replaced. One of the threads from behind the troop cycled forward to take the damaged one’s place, weaving itself into the space the broken one had created. Then a new tendril of light appeared, settling into the space behind. And when both of the filaments were in place the working flared, becoming whole once more to Tommy’s eyes. All the while, not a single pause in the ability of their working to do what needed to be done was made.

Tommy turned his attention away from what Ari was doing, his energy slowly diminishing as she drew it forth to feed her web. He glanced towards the village, noticing the sprites stalking this way and that on the top of the hill. One of them was stealthily approaching a fallen wall with a deep shadow beside it. Tommy squinted and shaded his eyes, wondering why since there was nothing there to be seen. But he realized the space beside the wall just might have something in it; and whatever it was, was looking their way.

Tommy froze, his chest tightening as he waited for sudden calls of alarm. The eyes he saw were attached to an ondilaan that was lazily gazing about, totally unaware that the troop was there. He reached out to Saress, pointing the warrior’s way, and she nodded once. Her predatory gaze focused upon the warrior while her fingers tensed on her bow.

Moments passed without a cry of alarm, and the ondilaan slowly looked away. Another strand of light cycled through to replace another broken strand, flaring and becoming whole. It looked like the plan was working; and Tommy hoped it stayed that way while he sent sneaky thoughts with the Tol that was travelling Ari’s way.

***

They were a little less than a bow shot away from the base of the hill when their luck started to fade.

The creaking of their leather armor was loud enough to make Donnor wince, and he’d been fighting his instincts to order the troop into a jog for a while now. He got that whatever Ari was doing would mask them from being seen, but he had no idea if it would cover their noise. He wished he could go back and ask, cursing his stupidity for not thinking about it before they left, but there was nothing he could do.

Gods he wished he could go back. Then he laughed at himself. Might as well wish for another rank while I’m wishing.

A quick movement on his right grabbed his attention. An ondilaan’s head jerked towards the troop, its eyes locking on them in surprise. A bush lunged; the bush-now-sprite thrusting a dagger deep into its eye. The ondilaan grunted before slumping over a partially destroyed wall, the impact scattering debris, and the sprite froze. The noise of its fall was clearly heard in the distance.

Another inquisitive hehehe sounded from inside the village. This time sounding more alert as the sprite began to stalk once more.

“That’s done it, Mikus. Faster now.”

Donnor whistled for Keris as Mikus quickened his pace, motioning for him to speed up. He waved for Laren and Immer to fall further back, the ranks of spears pulling away from the archers as they stepped up their pace.

A loud HEHEHE came from inside the village, this time sounding like a demand. There was a pause and then another call, the caller’s annoyance loud and clear.

An ondilaan walked into view past a partially broken wall by the cliff on his left. It stopped and glanced around, then looked out into the field, seemingly straight into his eyes.

Donnor watched as it shook its head, blinking its bleary eyes. Its nostrils flared as it scented the wind; its short, round ears turning this way and that. The warrior looked like it had just woken up as it called out once more. Its inquisitive hehehe sounding both tired and annoyed as it continued to scan the meadow below, scratching at an itch with one of its paw-like hands. Then it stiffened, both ears locking their way.

A bow twanged from behind.

The ondilaan’s startled eyes were staring straight at him as an arrow took it in its throat. A sprite darted around a piece of debris, quickly stabbing it with his knife. The warrior staggered and fell, clutching the arrow that had pierced it. Gurgling, the ondilaan worked its jaw as the sprite did his best to quietly lower it to the ground while fighting off its struggling hands. Then the poison took hold, the warrior ceasing all movement, its eyes never once leaving the troop.

Donnor glanced behind him, Saress already having another arrow nocked and ready while scanning the village. His Ilari’s forehead was creased in concentration while Tommy had his hand on her shoulder, looking out towards the lip of the hill.

A new voice called out. Its demanding HEHEHE sounding from deeper inside the village.

“I don’t know how much more time we’ve got, Mikey”

“I know,” Mikus replied, firming his grip on his axe. Gart looked worried.

“Pass down the ranks: the plan is working. Stay quiet, watch for more ondilaan on the hill.”

They followed his orders.

The base of the hill approached.

***

They were just about to where the road started its climb when the inevitable happened. A loud, echoing whooOOP sounded from far off to the right. Donnor whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the noise, then cursed himself for their damnable luck. A group of ondilaan had crested a rise in the distance, probably a returning patrol, and were pointing straight at them.

“Shite! That’s done it!” Mikus cried.

Donnor called out, “TROOP! AT A JOG, MOVE!”

“Move yer’ arse, damn ye! No time fer’ slackin’ now!”

“ARCHERS! TAKE OUT THAT GROUP ON THE RIGHT! SPEARS! INTO THE VILLAGE! GET TO THE TOP OF THAT HILL! MOVE!”

The troop surged forward, their weeks of training allowing them to easily increase their pace up the hill. They were passing the first of the destroyed houses as the new owners of the village arose. Calls of the ondilaan were coming in clusters from around the village, changing from confusion to alarm as the troop swept up the slope. HEHEHE, HEHEHE sounded from multiple points, and there were many more voices than he’d been led to expect.

“Left! Left around that wall! Split the ranks!” Keris cried, the troop’s line too long.

A tremendous whooOOP split the air from further inside the village, seemingly further away than any of the other calls. The yips and cries they’d been hearing turned from alarm to aggression, and there were suddenly a lot of calls coming from the lake.

“KERIS! TAKE COMMAND! WATCH YOUR LEFT!”

“Aye!” Keris shouted as a muffled whooOOP sounded from within the village once more. It seemed as if it had come from the very ground itself, the earth radiating its hate. Then there was a growl, and then another, and then more and more joined in.

Then the ondilaan charged over the rise.

Ondilaani warriors poured over the top of the hill, charging down between the shattered ruins of the village. Their spotted pelts were stained red by the setting sun, their slavering jaws open wide as they ran. Donnor counted easily ten, no twenty, as more and more poured forth, in small groups, doing everything they could to reach the troop.

They had but seconds to react.

“TROOP, BRACE!” Donnor screamed, the ondilaan only strides away. He heard Keris giving his own commands as one of the ondilaan raised a giant cleaver to strike.

Their endless training paid off.

The troop ceased all motion, snapping its spears forward as one. First rank slammed their shields together, forming the wall they’d been working so hard to achieve. And they succeeded, the troop leaning their weight on their back legs to take the charge while only seconds remained.

The ondilaan hit, a tremendous crash echoing through the air. The ondilaan not pierced through by their spears slammed instantly into their shields. The dying screams of the ondilaan were horrible to hear as the troop met the charge, but people here and there went down. One ondilaan flew completely over first rank, crashing into second rank as it fell, but the initial charge was broken. Donner repeatedly called out “STRIKE!” while Gart echoed his commands at his side.

The bloody work continued, Donnor leaping forward to strike down a warrior trying to get around their flank. Mikus was shouting for Deya to keep her shield up, Karn striking out at the enemy attacking her. Someone behind them in second rank stabbed out with their spear, its tip getting caught in the shoulder of another ondilaan and pulling it from their grasp. The ondilaan cried out in pain as it staggered, Kordin killing that one by stabbing it in its neck before Donnor lost sight of it, dodging a sword flying his way.

The chaos continued until the last ondilaan fell, Donnor still hearing sounds of combat coming from Keris’s way. They were lucky the ondilaan hadn’t charged down in a single group he realized, lucky the debris covered their flanks. But they didn’t have time to wait, the next group was still coming in.

“MIKUS! GET US UP THAT HILL!” Donnor commanded, stepping away from the line while looking around, trying to see towards the lake.

“Aye! Ya’ heard tha’ man! Move, damn ye!” Mikus shouted as he led the troop up the hill. His commands were easily heard over a growling that never stopped, and a strange muffled whooOOP that came from the village once more.

The ondilaan on their right were still howling in alarm in the distance while they closed. They were running flat out, ten or so, all of them sprinting their way. Laren finished positioning his archers, their first shots flying out as the warriors got into range.

Donnor hoped they could take them before they got close enough to charge. And it looked like Alarat and Camm would see combat before long, their hands twisting on their spears as they watched the warriors come.

Keris called “Strike!” once more from over on the left, the fight there still obviously underway. Keris’s part of the troop was locked in combat, just visible beyond the house they’d been forced to avoid. Whatever was happening over there was more than they were seeing over here, and he watched as one of Keris’s men was slammed back into the rank behind them. Whoever it was fell screaming in pain, leaving a hole in the line. But the attacker was quickly dealt with, a large ondilaan falling on top of the screaming man as a new man stepped into place.

This was already more ondilaan than they’d thought they’d face, many more, Donnor realized. His forces were split, his archers were engaged. His instincts were telling him to retreat, but Donnor was torn. Here, only halfway up the hill, they were vulnerable. And if they retreated, it would only get worse. They needed to get to the top of the hill before they could take a determined charge, but too many at once fighting up the hill and they’d be overrun.

Another commanding whooOOP sounded from above, still muffled, but getting clearer ever since the battle had begun.

Donnor jogged beside Mikus’s half of the troop as more ondilaan charged from between the buildings. Their luck was holding, the enemy only coming in twos or threes, but Curren still went down, a deep slash from an axe piercing his chest. Werin moved to stand over him as the battle progressed, defending Curren while the poor man screamed. Donnor danced that way, blocking a strike that would have landed on another man while he moved.

If there were too many, they’d have to retreat. But a retreat starting on the hill, split as they were, would turn into a rout. Donnor lashed out, slashing an arm that was holding a club. The warrior yelled in pain, snarling his way as another warrior joined in. Then he had two battering at his defenses as he realized his choices were becoming slim.

A third ondilaan burst through a wall beside him, slashing him across his flank with some kind of sword. The pain focused him like nothing else could, and he forgot the overall battle as he danced and spun in a symphony of death. He caught one of the warriors across its neck, jumping back as the dying ondilaan tripped up the warrior beside it. Werin stabbed that one, ending its life before it could complete its fall, but the third managed to score on Werin’s arm, his bracer only partially stopping the blow. Werin and he both killed it, stabbing it as it fell.

The warrior coming through the wall came from Keris’s way, and Donnor realized the enemy was now between him and them. He ducked an axe, stabbing the way it had come. He heard the archers firing, and realized it was possible there were more ondilaan behind them as well. Two more ondilaan charged down from above.

Retreat was no longer an option, he realized, they were committed. They had to get to the top.

“MIKUS! GET US TO THE TOP OF THAT HILL OR WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!”

“Wha’ tha’ bloody hells da’ ya’ think I’m doin’?” Mikus protested, slamming his axe into the leg of a warrior before him.

They were over halfway up the hill, two more ondilaan charging their way. Donnor stayed towards the middle as they quickly killed those two, Mikus leading their advance up the hill as another group charged into view.

A golden spark of light shot out, its brilliance diverting Donnor’s attention towards what was going on behind them. It struck one of the sprinting ondilaan off to their right and left a hole clear through its chest. That ondilaan toppled over, looking surprised as its fellow warriors continued to charge past it. Donnor glanced towards the wagon as Ari sent another golden spark flying towards the charging ondilaan, another warrior blown through by her magic as Laren’s archers fired their way.

Then Immer cried “LOOSE!” from the other direction. Donnor’s head whipped around as the staggered T-T-T-T-THWACK of the troop’s arrows struck two ondilaan that had appeared on Keris’s side. A gargled Ooooo split the air as they died, the sounds echoing between the ruins. And he watched as Keris’s men took advantage of their deaths, charging into the space they’d once filled.

Another whooOOP sounded from deeper inside the village, much clearer than before. A sprite dashed out of the village on Donnor’s right, quickly followed by another. The members of the ch’ten were sprinting between two half-fallen structures, a scattering of ondilaan appearing behind them and chasing them down. But the lives of those warriors suddenly ended as they were pierced through by a volley of arrows after Laren’s cry of “LOOSE!”

“MIKUS! KEEP US ON THE PATH!” Donnor cried as he continued to jog along with the ranks. Another ondilaan appeared, then another. Someone went down, then there was a scream off to his left. They had to get off this hillside, they had to take the top of the hill. They were already losing too many men.

Laren was splitting the archers fire between the ondilaan charging after the sprites and the ondilaan on their flank. Saress and Tonat were focused on the charging warriors, taking shot after shot at the ones on the right. Warriors fell to their accurate fire, but there were more, always more.

Tommy and Ari were in danger, every part of his being telling him to move their way. Another warrior challenged him from his left and he lashed out without thinking, taking it down. Then he looked towards where it had come from, Keris’s group stalled in combat once more. There were ondilaan spilling around Keris’s forces towards the center, surrounding his men. Only a few were coming Mikus’s way. Keris was about to be overrun.

“SARESS!” Their fierce Ja’al’osil whipped her head towards him. “PROTECT THEM! IL DON’TON’WII!” Donnor shouted, sprinting away from his lover and son.

The troop was split by the terrain, already being flanked on its right, and it couldn’t turn while being attacked from the front. More and more ondilaan were charging in from above, crashing into Mikus’s line in small groups. Laren’s fire was split, and Immer’s was now blocked by terrain. If he didn’t take care of the ondilaan spilling into the center around Keris’s group, they would be defeated in piecemeal.

He sprinted past Mikus’s group towards the center, throwing care to the wind. Curren and Werin, both wounded, joined him, sprinting along at his side. Now the spears were in three groups. Mikus’s, Keris’s, and his own tiny group; the buildings and ruins taking the other groups from his sight. But the ondilaan were charging in before him, calling to his bloodlust within.

He danced with death, spinning to slam one of the running warriors in the head with the butt of his spear. A distinct thud sounded out, his partner crumpling in place as he looked for someone else to dance with. He swayed and spun, avoiding an axe as the music of battle took him. Two spears stabbed out beside him, piercing a warrior through in time with his tempo. Its gurgling death, a salute to the macabre orchestra playing in his head.

The three of them advanced, jogging forward to a tune only Donnor could hear. They found themselves between two walls, the path they were on angling back towards the right as they fought on. Another ruined building was between him and where Keris was fighting as he took a slash to his arm. The music of battle was being punctuated by shouts and screams as another ondilaan fell. He rounded a corner, the crest of the hill before him, Werin taking a hit as Curren stabbed his opponent through. And beyond the lip of the hill more ondilaan were running towards them, aiming for where Mikus had been.

A wall of buildings was on his left, and he could hear Keris fighting behind it. It would take too long to go around. Keris was on his own.

“MOVE!” he shouted, Curren and Werin struggling to keep up as he rushed forward towards the ondilaan. Snarling warriors who were sprinting Mikus’s way.

Assault on the Pit

Mikus cried out “Watch that one!” as Donnor crested the top of the hill. Karn ducked under a furious blow as Deya stabbed out, both of them crying and screaming their rage. Deya caught the ondilaan in the armpit moments before Nalin stabbed the warrior through. Then Karn knocked the corpse back with his shield as the troop continued its advance, fighting their way step by step towards the top of the hill.

Donnor, Curren, and Werin rejoined Mikus’s group, hitting the ondilaan in their flank. Feya screamed, a sword skipping off the top of her shield leaving a long gash on her cheek. The ondilaan fell, Werin and Curren both killing it while Donnor blocked the dying strike it made, trying to take Feya down. And as the warrior rattled out its final breath, Donnor turned to survey the road before them.

The path was straight, and led all the way into the heart of Silverlake. Ruined buildings lined both sides of the street as twanging bows echoed in from behind. The howls of the ondilaan were overpowered by Laren and Immer’s orders, directing fire to wherever it was needed most. Donnor could see almost to the other side of the village, but was worried most by the gaping pit in its center.

And the ondilaan swarming out of it.

“CHARGE!” he cried.

“WI’ ME, LADS! Mikus shouted, sprinting towards the ondilaan that were billowing up out of the hole. He started chanting, Karn and Turred joining in, the three dwarves leading the charge.

Gart bellowed from Donnor’s side, an almost bestial roar as he sprinted after Mikus and the dwarves. And the men of second rank sprinted along behind them, eager to take battle to their foe.

Donnor’s battle lust once again took hold as he sprinted towards the enemy. The sounds of battle slowly fell away, things slowed down, time stretching and expanding, allowing him to pick his target with an uncanny precision he’d learned long ago to trust. His target was clear.

The ondilaan he’d chosen had a broken left tooth, its tongue was hanging from its jaw as it met his eyes. Its thick neck bulged as it used one paw-like hand to push itself out of the hole, a serrated blade of some kind in its other. Grinning evilly, it acknowledged his challenge as Donnor charged its way.

He was only strides away when it gained its feet. It dug its claws into the dirt, surging forward and meeting his charge, two more warriors cresting the hole behind it. Another loud WHOOOOP sounded, coming from the very earth itself, and Donnor was finally able to tell it came from deep within the pit the ondilaan were boiling out of.

The scar on the warrior’s hand stretched as it swung its blade, slashing towards him in slow motion and aiming for his head. A simple twist of his wrist slit the side of its throat, the cut gaping, a single long spurt of heart’s blood erupting from it before the warrior could even registered the wound. There was all the time in the world to dance to the side; the warrior’s swing not even coming close as he used the butt of his spear to tangle its legs. Then the warrior collapsed in a heap behind him, Donnor directing where the corpse would fall, not even slowing his charge.

Nor did the ondilaan slow theirs.

Mikus slammed into the next warrior, taking it in its thighs with his shield. The impact sent it tumbling over his head into Gart’s waiting spear, howls of fear accompanying its short, brutal flight. Then the rest of first rank slammed into the throng as well, Nalin screaming incoherently as he stabbed out again and again.

Donnor heard Keris yelling orders from somewhere over on his left as he dodged another wild swing. His vision locked onto his next opponent, taking it in its heart with a quick thrust of his spear. More ondilaan billowed up out of the hole, a wild swing causing Feya to stumble. Then Donnor swung the butt of his spear wide over Mikus’s head, blocking another blow from landing on Feya while Gart pierced the offending warrior straight through.

“PUSH THEM! PUSH TO THE HOLE! DON’T LET THEM OUT!” Donnor cried, taking a blow to his shield that rocked him back on his heels.

Mikus swung out with his axe, separating a warrior’s leg from its body, then he surged forward, slamming into the legless ondilaan with his shield. It fell screaming back into the others behind it, tripping them up as Gart thrust out over his head. His wild thrust struck a glancing blow on its arm as someone else screamed.

A crash came from his left, Donnor whipping around to see an axe flying by his head, missing him by a hair. A new group of ondilaan appeared from between the buildings, charging in from their flank. They pierced the line, intermingling with the members of the troop, snarling as they swung and bit. Curren went down with a cry, then Fan, trying to meet their charge.

“LEFT! WATCH THE LEFT!” Donnor cried. “TURN! TURN! DON’T LET THEM BEHIND US!” he yelled as he deflected another blow.

“I got this, Commander!” Gart yelled, turning and screaming to his men. “Get them!” he hollered while pushing second rank before him.

***

Mikus grunted, blocking a club’s heavy blow with his shield. Turred was chanting the battle’s hymn, clearing his axe as Donnor swung with his spear. Donnor missed with its blade but followed up, making a solid hit with the butt of his spear on the ondilaan’s chin. A noticeable thud sounded from the impact, the warrior falling limp and tangling up with the one beside it. Karn chopped down, trying to end the life of the second one with his axe, but the ondilaan’s wildly thrashing limbs prevented a solid strike. It fell, howling, back into the hole as another one took its place.

“We have to get to the hole!” Donnor lashed out, two quick thrusts forcing another warrior back.

“Aye!” Mikus grunted, neatly removing the arm from another. It howled, leaving one more bloody spray splashing across the battlefield.

Gart was yelling incoherently on his left, using his bulk to stop the enemy’s advance. He punched out with his shield, sending a warrior crashing to the dirt. Then Nalin leapt into view, a knife in both hands stabbing every which way. The combat over there was complete chaos. The ondilaan were intermingling with the troop, blood flying in every direction.

Donnor heard a scream off towards where Keris was fighting. He shifted his hands and spun in place, ending with his spear through a warrior’s neck. Mikus used the space he’d created to surge towards the pit, leading with his shield. Then Donnor stepped forward, managing to slice an arm striking out at his friend.

“There has ta’ be … a great bloody ton … down tha’ hole!” Mikus grunted, fighting as more and more ondilaan surged out of the pit.

Mikus lashed out at ankle height, a warrior jumping to avoid his strike. Donnor thrust, piercing the ondilaan through before it reached the ground. It howled, losing its balance, and fell into those still coming out of the hole.

WHOOOOP! bellowed from the pit. A sudden surge followed the call, the ondilaan moving as one. There was a new air about them, some new intensity. They no longer seemed worried about fighting, only about getting out of the hole.

“That’s got to be one of their females!” Donnor yelled as he blocked another strike.

“Aye!” Mikus grunted, forced to his knees beneath another strike on his shield. “What else could it be!”

The ondilaan were pouring out of the pit now, surging as one to attack the troop. Donnor saw a veritable sea of enemy heads below them as he forced Mikus’s attacker back. Something was stopping the ondilaan from coming out of the pit all at once, and they were surging upwards without thought to themselves.

Another whooOOP sounded, some of the warriors turning to climb out the other side. “Definitely the one in command!” Donnor cried, lashing out.

Mikus struggled to his feet. “We canna be doin’ anythin’ about it now!”

Donnor grunted, deflecting a strike with his spear. There were too many ondilaan in the pit for the troop to fight. The ones from below were physically pushing the ones in front of him out of the way while trying to get out of the hole. He realized it was kill or be killed as someone with Gart went down. The ondilaan were pushing them back. Then he heard a shout behind him while blocking a smaller ondilaan that a larger one had thrown out of the pit.

He stabbed it through, risking a glance to his rear. What are they doing! shocked his mind as the archers with Laren sprinted into the village. A few were injured, their tunics bloody as they continued to shoot at something behind them out of view. Then Laren, eyes wild, met his gaze.

“We’re clear behind!”

A tremendous WHOOOOP! bellowed up from the pit, another ondilaan being tossed bodily out of it. Three warriors were now before him, Donnor was doing everything he could to kill them before even more could come up. Mikus struck out, shattering a knee as a fourth, then fifth, surged up out of the hole. Then he took another strike to his shield as three more heads appeared over the lip.

“I got an idea!”

“Wha’ tha’ bloody hells ya’ gonna’ do?”

Laren was screaming at the archers to turn, pointing their way.

“Somethin’ stupid!” It’s now or never, Donnor thought, eyeing the swarm of enemy surging out of the hole.

“What’re ya’ gonna’ do!” Mikus deflected another hit with his shield, Donnor piercing it through.

“ARCHERS!”

“Archers! Wha’ feckin’ archers!” Mikus ducked a slash whistling over his head. He returned the favor with interest, burying his axe in the ondilaan’s side.

Donnor glanced back, Laren meeting his eyes. “SHOOT THE HOLE!”

“What!”

“SHOOT THE HOLE! DON’T LET THEM OUT!”

“Ya’ bloody bastard! We’re in tha’ way!” Mikus screamed.

There was a delay, then a warrior took an arrow high on its chest. Donnor spun his spear before thrusting out, catching the warrior in the gut and finishing it. Then another arrow appeared, hitting a warrior in the eye. This was followed by Saress’s ululating cry

“If they kill me, I’ll bloody kill you!” Mikus spat, more arrows streaking in.

“They’ll hit me first!”

“They better!”

Donnor started to spin, but ducked away as an arrow whistled by. The T-T-T-T-TWACK of focused fire followed immediately after, the archers volleying their arrows straight past them into combat.

“Feckin’ hells!” Mikus yelled, ducking away from the sound. Donnor almost tripped over him, then dodged a falling ondilaan while more warriors climbed into view.

“Watch it!” Mikus screamed, slamming a warrior with his shield.

Donnor heard a cry of “Loose!” from Keris’s side, Immer obviously having reached the top of the hill as well. A sword whistled by as Donnor dodged, stabbing the offending warrior before moving on. Then another volley of arrows flew into the next cluster of ondilaan trying to get out of the pit, barely missing him.

WHOOOOP! sounded again from the hole, rabid snarling and growling accompanying the call. Another ondilaan was bodily thrown out of the pit, surging up over the lip and struggling to stay on its feet. It charged, making room for another as a volley of arrows flew in.

“GO! GO! GO! DON’T LET THEM OUT!” Donnor cried while Mikus bashed the one before him. They’d stopped making headway, every step forward blocked by another ondilaan climbing out of the pit. They tried to fight forward with every step, the ground around them littered with bodies, making it harder for the ondilaan to get out. But they were still coming, still wildly charging into the fray.

The troop around him fought bravely on. Donnor caught sight of Gart screaming into the ondilaan, thrusting out while standing over Curren. Nalin had his back to Gart, now fighting with a long knife in one hand, his shield in the other. The two of them were all that remained after stopping the ondilaan’s charge, the other men screaming on the ground at their feet.

Donnor blocked a swing at Mikus, catching sight of Karn clearing his axe as Turred lashed out at another. And there was Deya and Feya beside them, their high-pitched voices screaming incoherently as they protected the dwarves’ flank.

The ondilaan didn’t care at all for their lives. The bellowing WHOOOOP spurred them on once again. Its angry, commanding tone made them recklessly charge out of the pit. Donnor had no idea how many they’d killed, but the ondilaan kept on coming. And it was working for them; their endless assault was wearing down the troop with shear numbers.

These new ones were putting the troop between them and the archers. Laren couldn’t get a clear shot, and the number of incoming arrows dwindled off. He was about to order Laren to move to his right when a beautiful voice cried out.

“De’lenden Tae!” came from behind him as a golden mote of light streaked by. It burst upon an ondilaan coming out of the hole, tiny fireflies of light scattering about. A loud tinkling accompanied it, strangely discordant with the grunts and screams around him. And then a tremendous conflagration exploded, that ondilaan and the ones near it falling dead, charred to the bone. Another golden mote of light flew by, leaving after images in its wake.

He glanced back as he spun, his ilari glaring into the enemy beyond him. Then a T-T-T-T-TWACK came in from his left, another group of ondilaan collapsing backwards into the pit. He lashed out, slashing a warrior across the face before dancing away, dodging a sword that was seeking his life.

Immer was screaming for his archers to reload, yelling “DRAW!” before many were halfway there. “LOOSE!” came shortly thereafter, another swarm of arrows entering the fray. The dying ondilaan were tripping up those coming up from below, and the lot of them tumbled back out of sight in the pit.

“CHARGE!” came a cry from his left, the men with Keris sprinting into view. He was down men from what Donnor could see, the lot of them slamming valiantly into flanks of the enemy. The impact shook the ondilaan, the weight of Keris’s charge pressing them back further towards the pit.

“LOOSE!” Laren cried out, another T-T-T-T-TWACK splitting the battle as more ondilaan fell. Another brilliant globe of light, another eruption of flame, more ondilaan screams as the troop pressed forward.

“WE GOT THEM! PUSH! PUSH!” Donnor cried out. He watched Nalin leap forward into the fight, screaming all the way. Gart dodged a warrior, taking a slice to his leg before backhanding the warrior who’d cut him. He knocked the ondilaan completely off its feet, screaming as he killed it before reentering the fray.

“We almost there!” Mikus cried, ducking an axe flashing by his head. There were still a group of warriors holding the lip, with more struggling from behind to climb out. They were doing everything they could to guard the way out of the hole, a swarm oof them climbing out the other side as well.

“GET TO THE EDGE! KEEP THEM PENNED IN!” Donnor screamed, deflecting an axe with his shield. Mikus choked up on his weapon, neatly severing an arm holding the axe at its elbow. The arm and axe fell to the ground, tumbling back into the pit as he tried to step forward. But another warrior appeared, climbing to take its place.

An arrow appeared in an ondilaan’s eye, Saress obviously still in the fight. Then a bar of golden light flashed into existence, three ondilaan toppling over on the far side of the pit, holes burnt completely through them. Donnor could hear Ari seemingly right behind him as another streak of light appeared with her words.

What is she doing! She’s too close! Donnor screamed in his head while dodging a wild strike. Stenta, one of the men they’d picked up in Varmen’s Shoal, was standing in the way and took it, the stone club shattering the side of the man’s head, killing him instantly.

A body flew by overhead, the ondilaan on the lip dodging as it sailed towards the pit. “Die!” Gart screamed, while the corpse he’d thrown knocked those still climbing out off their feet. A mass of warriors tumbled down out of sight into the hole accompanied by their howling complaints.

The troop continued to push the warriors back. Keris’s men were taking the lip on his left, the last few ondilaan there either being killed in place or forced back out of sight. Gart and Nalin were joining up with them as another volley of arrows streaked in.

“We here!” Mikus yelled, thrusting out with the head of his axe.

The ondilaan’s breath whooshed out of it as it doubled over, Donnor quickly killing it before it could get back up. “DEFEND THE LIP!” he ordered, forcing a warrior on his right to dodge back. “SPREAD OUT! THEY’RE STILL COMING OUT THE OTHER SIDE!”

“No, they are not!” Ari said from almost beside him, another bar of light flashing into existence on the opposite side of the hole. A handful of ondilaan there dropped dead as the light winked back out of existence, more purple afterimages staining his vision.

Donnor was getting tired, very tired, but he battled on. “Ari! What in the hells are you doing on the line?” he demanded, spinning his spear and taking another ondilaan’s life.

“Making sure you don’t end up dead!” she snapped back, another bar of golden light flashing in and out of existence as more of the enemy fell. “Don’t you dare question me!” Another golden mote of light flew by.

Mikus slammed an ondilaan with his shield, knocking it back into the hole. Donnor used the momentary break to glance behind him, his ilari’s eyes shining like two suns with the power of her magic. Tommy was behind her with eyes like a storm, having one arm around her while the other one held his spear. The ch’ten protected them both in a deadly honor guard, their blades dripping with blood.

His mate glanced his way, their eyes connecting in a powerful moment. That something they held between them expressed love and a fierce protectiveness as the bond flared wide open. And whatever it was combined with a savage anger as another of her workings flared out, more ondilaan dying in its wake.

T-T-T-T-THWACK sounded again from his right as Laren’s archers shot the only remaining ondilaan outside of the pit. Their bodies fell as the troop surrounded the hole, keeping the warriors penned in.

Donnor panted as he moved to where the last of them had fallen and looked around. The troop was spreading out with their shields before them, all pointing their spears towards the pit. The archers trotted into view, looking warily around as they guarded the troops flanks. The faces of the troop were grim.

“Laren! Immer! Spread out! Check the village! Make sure there are no more of them in the buildings! Dap? Send the ch’ten with them!” A chorus of “Aye, Commanders” and “Yesses” acknowledged his orders. Then listening to the snarling below, Donnor looked down into the pit.

The matriarch was there. Her and the rest of her warriors were crowded into a space underneath the village, standing on the half-eaten remains of the ones who’d lived here before. There was a pile of ondilaani corpses lining the interior rim of the hole, and one of them slumped slowly down, leaving a trail of viscera down a narrow winding stair, the only path up he could see.

The matriarch stared at him, a low growl accompanying her hate as their eyes locked. Her eyes were a dark, predatory amber that was tinted towards red by the light of the setting sun filtering down from above. Her pupils contracted as she gazed upon him, two vertical slits staring balefully as she made some judgement while he watched. Then she snarled a slow, guttural laugh.

HEHEHE.

Donnor saw no chance of surrender, no possibility of defeat. There was only kill or be killed, this predator having no other thought in its head. That even cornered, defeated, beaten, and trapped in a hole, all he could see was a drive to attack and kill; not a single ounce of defeat in her eyes. The savagery and alienness of it stunned him.

There were easily twenty or more ondilaan down there from what he could see, all growling and staring up at the troop. And there were even more in the single passageway off to the side, their evil eyes lurking there in the dark, waiting for night to come to continue their fight. There would be no quarter given here; they would not flee.

The archers could fire from the lip, slaughtering them easily. But when they retreated into that tunnel, their spears would be a liability. The ondilaan would overwhelm them in close quarters. The only ones who knew anything about fighting in the tunnels were the dwarves, and they only had three. The dwarves couldn’t lead the assault forever, and he could almost see that understanding in the matriarch’s eyes, an almost feral glee.

All of this went through his head in an instant. The matriarch laughing at him with a mocking HEHEHE.

The troop was exhausted, they had to be. The losses they’d take going down there would be horrendous, but they had to do it. A warrior’s body slid further down the tiny stair, Donnor’s decision firming while its vacant eyes laughed at him.

There was no other way.

Ari’s clean scent wafted past his nose. Donnor imagined her climbing down into the pit to heal the men. She’d need Tommy, and she’d need to be close. He couldn’t let her risk it. She needed to leave.

“Ari…”

She held up one hand, stopping him. “Listen, Ilari ... Past the ondilaan’s growls ...”

“Oh, gods …” Tommy mumbled, shaking his head. The light of the storm leaving his eyes.

Saress appeared at their side, ears cocked towards the hole. One ear twitched behind her as Ahton appeared before snapping back towards the pit. Her predatory eyes fixated on the ondilaan, Ahton looking on with horror and regret.

Then Donnor heard it. A sound barely audible, a distant, tiny, hint. And then a single whisper of a sound.

“…help!”

A Dungeon of Despair

Nisa Arisaylia Saliantrea stared down into the pit, glaring at the throng below. “… Help …” echoed piteously up out of it once again, her Tol responded to her emotions, its intensity building towards release as her fury grew.

Her ilari had finally heard the pitiful cry, and she watched as his eyes went flat. She felt his anger build alongside her own as he peered mercilessly down towards the matriarch. His hand twisted around the shaft of his spear as his jaw clenched. She felt his resolve, his desire to fight and kill, and knew he was about to order the troop’s descent into the pit.

Tommy was studying the tribe with pitiless eyes. His fascinating Tol performing its own inspection, sending miniscule hairs of thought and judgement descending delicately into the throng. How much of it he was consciously aware of, only he knew, but she could not allow him to come to harm. She would not allow either of them to come to harm. Life, she was so tired.

“Saress, guard me. I will finish this.”

“Yes, Lady Saliantrea.”

One of the ondilaan started beating on its chest with its fist, then a doll rolled from underneath its foot and caught her attention. The doll was a disgusting thing, its stitching ripped, its seams torn, and it was utterly soaked in mud and gore.

The tiny thing flew as the warrior kicked it, the doll’s head staring up at the sky when it came to rest. It had a blue dress at one point, some mother having lovingly embroidered it with a flowery design. And even with half its face stained red, there was no hiding its innocent smile. A button eye hung limp, dangling from its one remaining thread, while mud soiled stuffing fell out of one of its torn legs.

It looked like any other doll she had seen in these parts, except for one stark difference.

It looked like the doll she had made.

The doll she had given to her daughter.

The doll she had sewn for Di’ii.

A storm of righteous fury called out, raging at this injustice as it flared beyond words or reason. She would avenge the daughter who’d owned this doll for whoever had loved her. There would not be another Lakeside ever again. No other mother would know her pain.

Her Tol came to her, swirling around her in a maelstrom of judgement. She felt Tommy’s Tol respond, so tightly joined with her own in this moment as to become one. The thundercloud of Tommy’s might flashed across their inner selves as it crashed and echoed between them. Then as the tempest grew, their vengeance cried out. A single tress of her scarlet hair rose from her delicate shoulder, then her hair as a whole lifted up upon an invisible wind as she stared piteously down into the pit.

The matriarch met her gaze; the female’s amber eyes locked onto her own. Its slitted pupils dilated and then constricted as a new thought crossed her face. Then the matriarch snarled and howled her defiance at Arisaylia; pregnant with some realization of doom. It let out a deafening WHOOOOP while the warriors around her surged, moving as one towards the lip.

“You will kill the children no more!” Arisaylia cried.

Tol exploded from around her, its release shattering the ground at her feet, forming cracks in the earth. The invisible potency she had brought into being descended into the pit with the speed of thought, fissures opening in the ground in its wake.

Tommy’s Tol shrieked down beside her own, the howling torrent of its passage wailing its condemnation across her pathways. It followed the furious tempest of her will down into the horde and there it exploded, working its wrath as it went. The cataclysmic storm his Tol brought turning her normally golden Tol a pearlescent gray, both dire and cruel.

A whirlpool of force popped into being in the center of the snarling throng. It grew and spun in an instant, rotating widdershins within the confines of the pit as it slaughtered them all with no time to think. Golden lightning shot forth from the tempest, immolating any the maelstrom had missed. And it cascaded out from that pit of horror, jumping from warrior to warrior, those in the hallway only having a split second in time to utter a single cry before they died. Its passage leaving crackling discharges in its wake while a series of thunderous booms sounded, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

Arisaylia stared as the last of the ondilaan fell, their corpses ripped asunder under her pitiless gaze.

They killed the children ... It had to be done …

Tommy stood beside her, hand still on her shoulder protecting her, every mote of his being agreeing with what they had done. That agreement ricocheting silently between them; their thoughts as one.

Her ilari placed a hand on her shoulder as she continued to stare at that lonely, soiled doll. The bond was so clear in that moment she understood him instantly when his loving eyes met her own. His love for her and their son shown brightly through. His eyes taking on a golden-brown radiance, lit from within by the final rays of the sun.

Donnor reached out with one hand, stroking the hair that was still floating on the wind of her Tol. His sorrow that she had to kill mixed with the knowledge that she had saved them all from injury and death by killing the warriors below. He turned away, looking back into the pit as he moved his hand to rest and massage the back of her neck. The three of them standing as one on the edge of this horrible precipice, staring down into the darkness below.

Exhaustion took him.

“Mikus,” Donnor said tiredly. “Take Karn and Turred. Get down there, figure out what’s going on.”

“Aye, Donnor.”

“Saress?”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

“Lookouts on the approaches. We’ll set up here for the night.” She nodded as he looked across the pit. “Keris, first rank on the lip, second rank in pairs exploring the village after the wounded are brought here. Find Dap–”

“Behind you, Commander,” Dap said.

Donnor turned around, still keeping a hand on the back of her neck. “Good, Ahton is with you. Ahton, thank you. We couldn’t have done this without you. Go to your mate, stay with her. Spend time with your child.”

Ahton was pale as Dap translated, as were all the sprites. Ahton stared long and hard at Arisaylia before he bowed low, his eyes filled with a look of deep reverence. “San’ten’tol,” he clearly said in heavily accented common, making a strangely formal gesture. Then the rest of the ch’ten bowed as one, backing away to do their duty.

Donnor looked at them curiously before turning away, exhaustion suffusing his mind. “Dap, tell Alarat and Camm to bring the animals in. Someone get a fire going and make some food. It sounds like we have wounded and survivors both. How anyone survived down there …”

Ari put her arm around his waist. A chorus of “Aye, Commanders” sounded as he yawned, her ilari’s bond becoming both quiet and numb. His thoughts were so focused, so intent, they were barely a whisper. Then that whisper grew as he struggled with something that began haunting his mind.

Her ilari stared down into the pit, following the dwarves as they struggled to descend. Karn slipped on the leg of a corpse as she watched, the rest of the troop carrying out her ilari’s orders around them. Turred reached the bottom first, armor smeared and stained by the blood and gore of the ondilaan.

“Why only the dwarves, beloved?”

Donnor turned towards her, his eyes frighteningly devoid of emotion. The bond told her he was primed for battle once more, his mind a whirlwind of plans and contingencies as she concentrated on what it told her. He looked down at his feet, nudging the cracked and broken earth with his foot before turning to face her once more. Then he looked back down into the pit, Mikus entering the hall and calling out a loud “Hello?”

“What is it, beloved?” she asked again.

“You shattered the foundation, you and Tommy. None of us know a thing about this place, but the dwarves instinctively know their way underground. They’ll know if there’s danger.”

“What danger?”

“Of a cave in. Look there, behind Mikus. That’s cut and dressed stone. No village around here cuts stone like that.”

He turned his gaze back down into the pit.

“This is no root cellar we’ve stumbled on, Arisaylia. And I’m wondering why the ondilaan were here.”

***

“Hello!” Mikus yelled once more. He heard a muffled reply in return, not quite able to make out what was being said. Whoever had replied, it sounded high-pitched.

Karn kicked a severed paw out of his way and spat. “Bloody hell. Ain’t never seen nothin’ like tha’.”

“Feckin’ right, ya’ are,” Turred agreed, glancing back up. “Maker, remind me no’ ta’ make tha’ Lady mad.”

Mikus snorted. “She’d no more be hurtin’ ye two than she’d be hurtin’ a fly. Got a sharp bloody tongue, though, she does.”

“I believe tha’,” Karn mumbled, pushing a corpse out of his way. “I think I’m havin’ a way here. Help me move this bloody one outta’ tha’ way,” he said, pulling on an arm.

The three of them shoved the corpse onto another, then moved a second one aside to reveal a narrow hall. “I’ve no’ been workin’ in tha’ mines fer’ ages, but tha’ stone is old. Damn old. What this place be?”

“Me uncle mined,” Karn mentioned, pushing a leg that had flopped back out and putting it back into place. “I ‘prenticed wi’ him as a lad. This be old, ancient even. Dunno’ how long it been here, but whatever was here, it’s been long collapsed. Look there,” he said, pointing to where they had descended. “Ya’ see where tha’ Lady be standin’? Under her foot there? That be another lintel.”

“Don’t care about no bloody lintel,” Turred mumbled, entering the hallway, his axe at ready. “Hello!” he shouted, repeating Mikus’s call.

“Karn, pair up wi’ him. Tunnel stance; I got yer’ backs. Advance,” Mikus ordered softly. Karn and Turred positioned themselves side by side, shields at ready, descending into the dark. “Hello!”

“… help!” came a muffled reply.

His vision shifted into shades of grey as he advanced down the hall, the dim light of the setting sun filtering down from the hole. He glanced up as a soft trickle of soil fell from the roof. “Ceiling’s cracked,” he mumbled.

“Whole bloody hill be cracked,” Turred said, continuing their slow advance.

“I’m no’ hearin’ anythin’, this place be dead,” Karn said, relaxing.

“An’ tha’ is wha’ kills ye. Shaddup until we’re knowin’ fer’ sure,” Mikus growled, glancing behind them.

The dwarves came to a four-way intersection. They way forward was clear, but the hall to the right was collapsed and filled with earth and stone. To the left was a partially choked hallway which led further into the gloom. They passed through it in single file, their steps echoing in the dark before the hall opened back up again. Then they advanced a short ways discovering a room that was almost cavernous, reeking of the ondilaan. There was debris and detritus strewn everywhere, and it looked like the ondilaan had been here for some time.

“It be a feckin’ den,” Karn muttered, covering his nose with one hand.

“Shaddup’, an’ keep movin’,” Mikus ordered, his eyes never stopped scanning the dark.

They followed the left wall, hugging it to protect their flank as they continued on. The tension grew, the only sounds their footfalls before they eventually came to the room’s end. They continued to follow the periphery of the room, passing corpses and another collapsed entrance before returning to where they’d begun.

Turred led the way back to the intersection, leaving the stench of the room behind. Then they continued on, the tunnel making a sharp turn towards the lake in front of them from what Mikus could tell. They advanced around the corner as a unit and then stopped, taking in what they saw.

A long skinny corridor, barely a single person wide, continued for almost thirty strides before coming to a halt. There it ended in a wall of stacked stone with gaps and holes in between them. There were a couple of dead ondilaan lying on the ground with crossbow bolts sticking out of them, but no people that could be seen.

“Hello!” Mikus hollered.

“Hello!” came a high-pitched reply, muffled by the holes in the wall.

“Ye two, get back ta’ tha’ pit. Make sure there be no other way in here. Get more people an’ a torch or two. We’ll need ta’ be movin’ tha’ rock.”

“Aye,” they both replied, moving off.

“Who be in there?” Mikus called through the stone.

“Who are you!”

“A troop comin’ from Redtail. Now, who be in there?”

“How are we to be knowing that!”

“Because I jus’ bloody told ye! We been bloody fightin’ our way down here! Now, who be in there!”

“How can we be trustin’ you?”

“Ya’ know any ondilaan tha’ can talk? I’ll bloody well leave ya’ in there if ya’ don’ be answerin’ my questions! Now, who ya’ be?”

“Don’t talk to me that way! This is my home!”

“An’ ye can stay in yer’ bloody home fer’ all I care! All tha’ good it’s done ya’. Is it too feckin’ hard ta’ answer me questions? Who ya’ be!”

“Shandii!” came a sullen reply.

“Was tha’ so feckin’ hard? Fine! Shandii, now. How many of ye are behind this wall?”

“Who are you!”

“Maker woman! Mikus is me name! Now, how many of ye are behind this wall!”

“Enough to defend ourselves!”

“Oh, bloody hells. We’re no’ comin’ ta’ fight ye!” Mikus bellowed, losing his temper. “Now shaddup! We’re tryin’ ta’ save yer’ arse! How many bloody feckin’ people ye got behind this wall?”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up!”

“I’ll bloody well be tellin’ who I want ta’ shaddup! How many ye be?”

“We need food! And water!”

“By tha’ maker, woman! Ye’ll be getting’ it when we can be gettin' ya’ out. Now how many ye be!”

“You’re going to give us food?”

“Yes! I promise ye’ll get yer’ blasted food! How many ye be!”

“Sixteen!”

“Finally! Tha’ so damn bloody hard?”

“Where’s our food?”

“I gotta get it!”

“Well go get it then!”

“By the maker, woman, yer’ tha’ reason the gods were lost,” Mikus grumbled. “Stay there in yer’ bloody home! I’ll be back.”

“Don’t leave us! Give us our water! Our food! You promised!”

“Ye’ll get yer’ damn water an’ food. I gotta’ tell tha’ Commander how many ye be! I’ll be back!”

“You bastard! Don’t you leave us! Don’t you fecking leave us! I’ll tear your bloody …” continued in a litany of outrage as Mikus stomped his way back down the hall.

Stupid woman! We be savin’ yer’ arse an’ all ya’ do is be wantin’ ta’ fight! Canna’ be answerin’ a feckin’ simple question, can she! Noooo! Too bloody feckin’ easy! Ungrateful bloody shrew!

“Who’re ya’ shoutin’ at?” Karn asked.

“Tha’ ungrateful bloody shrew behind tha’ bloody feckin’ wall. Dig her bloody arse out before I collapse tha’ whole bloody thing on her damn head fer’ a simple ‘thank you’ an’ some peace an’ quiet!”

Karn put up both hands, warding Mikus off.

“Sorry.” Mikus continued past him, climbing out of the hole. “Donnor!”

“Yeah, Mikey?”

“Ye’ got a bloody shrew down tha’ feckin’ hole. Arguin’ an’ demandin’, she be! Stupid woman says her name be Shandii, an’ they got sixteen in there with her. We need people ta’ dig ‘em out.”

“Sixteen!” Donnor yawned. “How in the hells have they kept sixteen people alive down there?”

“I don’ bloody know! An’ if you wanna’ know, ask tha’ bloody shrew yerself!” Donnor looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t ya’ be lookin’ at me tha’ way. I’ll no be talkin’ ta’ her no more! Ask her yerself!”

“Okay … fine. Take what you need, dig out the survivors, supervise for all I care. Just get them out and up here. I need them out of that hole before night falls.”

“Fine!” Mikus stomped off, temper getting the better of him. He grabbed a couple of people, sending them to get shovels and rope off the wagon before heading down into the pit. He felt a little sorry for snapping at Deya and Feya, but only a little bit, sending them along to help dig the survivors out. He could hear Karn arguing with the ungrateful woman as the two gnomes walked into the lair of Shandii the she-dragon.

Stupid bloody shrew.

Canner and Werin were helping him move the ondilaani corpses aside while he listened to the arguing continue. They finally moved enough bodies to form a clear narrow path out of the hole as a clatter echoed from the hall. Then the twins started carrying rock after rock out of the corridor, and started chucking them on the pile.

Turred came out some minutes later. “We can finally be seein’ in there. We’re gonna’ have ta’ be carryin’ them out. They’re too weak ta’ be makin’ it out on their own.”

“Aye. I’ll get ya’ more people,” Mikus said, clambering back out of the pit. Ari and Tommy were kneeling by the artock, starting to heal the wounded with Ari’s hands aglow. The sprites were positioned around them, Tonat starting a fire off to the side for the evening meal.

He didn’t see Donnor or Keris, so he grabbed a few more people, sending them down into the pit before going in search of his friend. He found him with Keris on the southern edge of the village near the lake. They were standing on the edge of the cliff, a cold breeze blowing in from the west.

At least that’ll be clearin’ away tha’ smell.

“… have to stay up here for the night. Find Saress and coordinate the watches.”

“Yer’ gonna’ be wantin’ ta wait a bit on tha’. We’re startin’ ta’ carry tha’ survivors out. I sent tha’ men wi’ Ari down ta’ help.”

“Is the ch’ten still there?”

“I’ll no’ be leavin’ yer’ woman without a guard, Donnor. Aye. They be there, watchin’ an’ guardin’.”

“Fine. Let’s head back and see who we saved.”

They arrived at the pit as the first of the survivors were carried out. Sollip and Ladig helped an emaciated young man out of the hole, setting him down by Ari. The human’s listless eyes had only the smallest glimmer of hope as he took in the people around him.

Maker, the wind would break tha’ one, Mikus thought.

Then another was laid down, as weak as the first. One after another the survivors were carried out, and gently placed with the wounded while Mikus, Keris and Donnor looked on. Saress joined them, bearing witness to the survivor’s rescue as they were removed from the pit.

“The watches are set, Strike Leader,” she said, a woman whimpering while being lifted out. The sad passage of pale and emaciated people continued, each one carefully placed by the wounded.

They continued looking on until no more came out, Mikus wondering what the holdup was, the count only at thirteen. Then he heard Shandii arguing again, Karn placating her from what he could hear.

Blasted woman! What be her problem now?

He waited a bit, hoping it would sort itself out, but the arguing continued to gain volume the longer it went on. Eventually, he gave up trying to ignore the useless bickering. Her bloody voice is givin’ me a headache! He had to do something about it, no matter how much he didn’t want to. Lowering himself back down into the hole, he resigned himself to the battle ahead.

“… first! He’s the reason any of us are alive in the first place!” Shandii shouted.

“I can’t get ta’ him without movin’ ya’!” Karn hollered.

“Don’t you bloody touch me!”

“I don’t want ta’ be touchin’ ya’! Get outta’ tha’ bloody way!”

“I can’t fecking move!”

“What tha’ blasted hells goin’ on down here!” Mikus roared from the hallway, unable to see with so many people in the way.

“You! Is that that damn Mikus who left us down here? He left us! He feckin’ left us! You left us down here to rot! You promised us food! Water! …” Shandii continued in a litany of complaint.

“By tha’ maker, Mikus,” Karn swore. “We got three left besides her ta’ get out.”

“What’s tha’ problem then?”

“She’s got a bloody knife. She’s sittin’ on top o’ one, guardin’ tha’ other, stabbin’ at anyone who comes near.”

“And I’ll cut anyone who touches me!” Shandii yelled.

“See,” Karn said, hooking his thumb back over his shoulder to where Shandii apparently was.

“We don’ have bloody time fer’ this. The sun be set, an’ we’re needin’ these people fer’ tha’ watches. She weak like tha’ others? Mikus asked.

“Oh, aye,” Karn answered.

“Take tha’ bloody knife from her.”

“Aye, Mikus.” Karn grinned, turning around.

“I’ll cut you! I’ll bloody well cut you! Don’t you come near me! Hey! Don’t you touch me!”

“Sollip, get her other side.” Karn said.

“Get away from me! What the hells are you doing?”

“Ready? One … two … now!” Karn continued.

“Get off me! Hey! Help! Get off me! Stop! Give that back! You bastards! Hey!”

“You got her hands?” Karn asked, then grunted.

“Aye, Karn. Canner, get her leg. She’s trying to kick.” Sollip said.

“Ow! She already did,” Karn wheezed.

“Get off me! What are you doing! Let me go!”

“I got them, Sollip,” Canner said. “She’s a feisty one. Think she’ll calm down once she’s healed?”

“I’ll feisty you! Let me go!”

“Dunno. She be wailin’ like a she-dragon.” Karn muttered. “Aww, shite. Tha’ old one she been protectin’ be barely breathin’. You two! Get tha’ old one out right quick. Get him ta’ tha’ Lady! We’ll keep our feisty she-dragon outta’ yer’ way.”

“Yes, Karn,” Deya said.

The twins carried an old, old man out past Mikus, a strange black wrap covering his eyes.

“Don’t you hurt him! Don’t you bloody hurt him!” Shandii screamed, all but crying.

“I’m tellin’ ya’ now like I told ya’ before, we’re here ta’ help ya’!” Karn yelled, exasperated. Then he grunted. “Dammit, Shandii! Stop tryin’ ta’ hit me! We be tryin’ ta save yer’ arse!”

“I don’t believe you!”

“That be plain as day,” Mikus muttered, moving to let Werin by, carrying a child. “There anyone else?” he called to Karn, finally getting a chance to move around the corner. He walked down the narrow hall, past where the wall had been and into the dragon’s lair.

The people that remained were in a stone room, bare of everything from what he could see. It was lit by a torch someone had carried down, the foul stench of sewage wafting from a dark opening to his right. The back of the room was covered with fist sized mushrooms that were growing on the floor, walls, and ceiling, and then disappeared down another opening across from where he stood. Littered around the room were dirty blankets and cloth, with a few loaded crossbows leaning up against one wall.

Karn, Sollip and Canner were holding down a gnome who was still struggling, no matter how much they tried to calm her down. She might have been blonde at some point, Mikus thought, but it was hard to tell with all the dirt caked on her. But her crystal blue eyes were clear as ice as they flashed his way while she tried to bite Karn, the dwarf doing his best to keep ahold of her arms. She was wearing soiled riding gear made out of coarse cloth and leather, and looked spitting mad.

“Let me go! Who the bloody hells are you?” she screamed, looking fiercely at Mikus.

“Owww!” Canner yelled as she kicked him in the gut.

“Mikus! Now stop fightin’! We’re trying’ ta’ help ya’, ya’ bloody shrew!”

Shandii froze as her wild eyes focused down on him.

“Oh, bloody hell … yer’ cute …” she said, then she promptly passed out.

Over Clear Water

“Mornin’.”

“Morning, Mikey,” Donnor said after looking back over his shoulder.

“Yer’ supposed ta’ be asleep.”

“Yep.”

“Ya’ doin’ yer’ after-battle brood?” the dwarf asked, sitting down beside him and handing him a bowl.

“Yeah.”

“It weren’t so bad.”

“I know.” Donnor took a bite, staring out over the lake.

“Ya’ sleep?”

“A bit.”

“Yeah?”

Donnor sighed. “Maybe an hour or two. Passed out would be a better way of saying it.”

“Yeah, tha’ be you.”

“Yep.”

The two sat side by side on the rim of the cliff, looking out over the lake. The sun had risen a few hours ago, the morning brisk and clear. A soft wind blew, still coming in from the west, and still carrying with it the chill from the western hills.

Donnor stared down into the lake at the squared and dressed stone resting in the silt. The blocks were far below on the bottom, easily seen despite how deep they were. He’d been studying them blankly for about an hour now, wondering what their story was. And he’d been looking at one of them in particular, at what he thought might have been a strange design carved into one side.

A shadow crossed his view. Donnor glanced up, catching sight of the bird that had been circling high overhead all morning. It wasn’t a buzzard, and it wasn’t fishing the lake, it just seemed content to be flying around. Every now and then it seemed to swoop closer to the village like it was inspecting them, but it was hard to tell.

Must be riding a thermal over the lake, he thought, absently. He yawned, still tired from the fight the day before.

“Canna’ be seein’ anythin’ but tha’ lake from here.”

“That’s the point.”

Mikus grunted, taking a spoonful of stew. After carrying Shandii out of the hole last night and confirming there was no one else down there, they performed a sweep of the hill to ensure there was no more enemy up there with them. There were none, so they set their watches throughout the ruins and settled in for the night.

Happily, there was no kill pile in the village this time, the ondilaan apparently keeping their victims with them down in the hole. So, most of the troop not on duty fell asleep in the ruins wherever they ended up. But Ari, Tommy, Saress, and the ch’ten stayed awake long into the night, the former healing while the latter guarded. Saress and the ch’ten slept in shifts. Eventually the healing was done, Ari and Tommy finishing before they succumbed to exhaustion. The two of them were still sleeping back by the wagon, as far as he knew.

Mikus swallowed, wiping some of the stew off his beard with the back of his hand. “Ya’ talk ta’ yer’ lady?”

“Yeah.”

“What she say?”

“It’ll be days before the survivors can travel.”

“So, we stuck here then?”

“Yep. We’re stuck here.”

“How many we lose?”

“Eight. The three you reported, three of Keris’s, and one each of the archers.” Donnor threw a rock out into the lake, remembering Caynen telling him yesterday that he was worried about Ost in second rank. That the man couldn’t get over the loss of his woman, his Bonny, who’d died in Brookside. Now he was dead as well.

“How many down?”

“Nineteen. Two were Immer’s, that’s why Ari got involved. They got charged and couldn’t stop them in time. Immer’s down to two, including himself.”

“They gonna’ make it?”

“I don’t know,” Donnor replied. “Ari got all of them stable before I told her to stop. They were almost dead. We could use them on their feet, but I don’t want her using herself up.” He sighed. “We have no idea what’s around here, no idea what’s coming.”

“Ya’ thinkin’ o’ leavin’ already?”

“Yeah.” Donnor threw another rock out into the lake.

“What’s botherin’ ya’?”

“Ari’s magic.”

“Feckin’ hells, Donnor. We’d all be dead three times over if’n it weren’t fer’ her bloody magic.”

“That’s what’s bothering me.”

Mikus looked at his friend. “Ya’ canna’ be mad we’re alive.”

“No, it’s not that. Her and Tommy are a gift of the lost gods. No, it’s becoming clearer and clearer why the Vale put a bounty on her head.”

“How’s tha’?”

“Mikus, some of the things she’s doing take teams of mages.”

“How in tha’ bloody hells ya’ know tha’?”

Donnor glanced his way. “I don’t, not really. But you saw what they did last night. And that was after what she did during the fight.” Donnor yawned. “Then they healed for hours; neither one of them collapsed.”

“Yer’ bitchin’ they didna’ pass out?”

Donnor sighed. “No. I don’t know. Never mind. Just worried about the Vale. I haven’t seen some of the things the two of them are doing in a long, long time.”

“Ya’ never had a mage wi’ ye doin’ caravans.”

“No. No, I didn’t.”

“Yer’ talkin’ abou’ before.”

“Yeah.”

“Ya’ ever gonna’ tell a soul where ya’ come from? Who ya’ were before comin’ ta’ Sirikii?”

Donnor smirked slightly. “Back to that, huh?”

“An’ tha’ be a ‘no’ … blasted human.”

“Heh. Someday, Mikey. Someday. But not today.”

“I’ll be holdin’ ya’ ta’ tha’, ya’ bastard.”

“Heh.”

“So, wha’ we doin’ now?”

“Not much. Once Keris and Saress wake up, I need them to take over command from you.”

“I sent them ta’ sleep hours ago. Why ya’ need them?”

“You need to sleep and we came here for food. Until Ari is done with Tommy, I’m the only one who knows how to work a boat.”

“Any damn fool can paddle, Donnor.”

“See any paddles?”

“Hmmm. There is tha’. Any ‘o tha’ boats in good shape?”

“Good shape? No. Usable? Yeah … I think so. There’s one I found down on the beach before I turned in. Mast’s broken, looks rough, but it’s probably manageable. I need to see it in the light of day to make sure.”

Saress walked up, sitting down beside them. “Strike leader,” she greeted him.

“You upset with me, Saress?”

She smirked, taking a bite of stew.

“No ‘hello’ fer’ me?”

“Sorry, Mikus. I didn’t see you down there.”

“Woman thinks she’s funny.” Mikus said, hooking his thumb over his shoulder.

“I’d be worried.”

“I’d no be. Enough men here ta’ keep tha’ women in line. Especially tha’ little delicate ones, like her.”

“You’ll be outnumbered soon,” Saress said, taking a bite. “You even have a new mate chasing you around.”

“Huh?”

“Why she would want you, though, I’ll never know.”

“What tha’ blazes are ya’ talkin’ about?”

“Your new lover.” Mikus sputtered, almost spitting out his stew. “I heard you two were exchanging odes of love last night.”

“Yer’ head is bloody well on backwards. What’re ya’ on about!”

“She might even get you to clean your beard.”

“My beard be jus’ fine!”

“Smells a little. You do stink, you know,” Saress said sweetly. Donnor began to chuckle.

“I do no’ smell any worse than he does! We jus’ fought a feckin’ battle, ya’ bloody cat, an’ yer’ givin’ me shite fer’ smellin’?”

“What she sees in you I’ll never know.”

“Who! An’ if ya’ be on abou’ me takin’ Deya an’ Feya under me wing, I’ll bloody kill ya’.”

“Oh, they have their eyes on you too. Must be your nose. Gnomes like noses, I’m told,” she trailed off.

“Bloody hell. They better no’ be lookin’ at me nose,” Mikus grumbled.

“It’s okay, you’re already taken. They don’t stand a chance against her.”

“By the maker, who?”

“Shandii.”

Mikus spit out his stew.

“There a meeting going on?” Keris asked while Mikus sputtered, mouth working open and closed. Donnor chuckled, joined by Saress as Keris sat down.

“Okay, what’s so funny?” Keris asked, with a grin. “Did Saress win this round?”

“Yeah, I think she did.” Donnor said while Mikus shuddered, looking back over his shoulder to where the wounded were.

“You gonna share?” Keris asked.

“Our dear dwarf has an admirer,” Saress replied. Mikus paled before determinedly turning away and taking another bite of his stew.

“You talking about the gnome? Sandee or something?” Keris asked.

Donnor chuckled. “Shandii, and yes.”

“She professed her undying love and affection for Mikus before she swooned, falling into his waiting arms.” Saress was staring at Mikus while she said it, mischief in her eyes.

“Like bloody hells she did, tha’ feckin’ shrew,” Mikus grumbled.

“Oh, you mean how she said he was cute.” Keris said.

“She did no’!”

“Sure, she did. Karn and Turred have been telling everyone. It’s all over the troop by now.”

“Bastards.” They all chuckled as Mikus took another bite of his stew.

“Any issues last night on your shifts, you two?” Donnor asked.

“No, Commander.” Keris grinned.

Donnor gave Keris a look, before turning on Saress, seeing her grinning too.

“No, Commander.”

“You starting in on me now, Saress?”

“Whatever do you mean, Strike Leader?” Saress asked, the picture of innocence.

Donnor snorted. “Oh, shut up. Just tell me what went on last night.”

Saress started talking, laughter in her eyes. “I was able to range for a bit through the night. The village and its surroundings are dead; what you see is what remains. Most of the boats along shore are burnt or destroyed, but there is a supply tent with nets and other things on the beach. I heard fish jumping in the night, so we may be able to resupply as you wished. There are some fields to the north as well, but they are trampled and burnt, the crops long since destroyed. There were animals here once, but only their pens remain. One of the pens is especially large, easily able to contain a small herd of artock, but it was too dark to see any tracks to discover what it once held.

“West beyond the village are the remains of some ondilaan that were left to rot. They were all smaller than their typical warriors are and have been dead for a long time, maybe a week or more. Why they were there is a good question, and the ch’ten does not have any ideas either. Dap says they only have limited contact with the ondilaan in the wilds.

“However, it reminds me of the ritual slaying found outside of Resthaven, but the similarities aren’t exact. The site lies along a smaller road heading further west that I did not travel. We need to range further afield to secure this place, but there is nothing within view of the village I have not minimally explored.”

“Watches remain where you saw them last night, Donnor. Nothing’s changed there,” Keris said after Saress was done. “After the sun rose, I checked them. They’re nicely hidden, and will probably remain so even in midday. We have the animals and the wagon close to the side of the village we came in on, and Ari, Tommy, and the wounded are with them. We found a torn sail to set up as a tarp between the wagon and a wall that hadn’t fallen down yet, and Tonat started a fire there and has a meal going.” He raised his bowl, “People are wandering in as they can to be fed.

“I wandered the village during the night to see if there’s anything I could find. This place is a wreck. We might find some odds and ends, but the chances of finding anything worthwhile are low.

“It looks like the ondilaan got bored and just broke things for the fun of it. There are a couple of … nests … in some of the ruins. Looks like they found anything soft and made beds out of it, but they ripped up the actual beds to do it. And they tore down walls and boards for cover to make small dens out of them. Never seen anything like it.” Keris shrugged. “So, I tore a couple of them apart. They stink worse than when they clean out the jakes in the Hold, but I didn’t find anything interesting in them.

“Beyond that, there’s not much to say. I let our people bed down where they wanted to and they’re mostly over by the wagon. I didn’t go down in the hole, though. Karn and Turred both said the foundation’s cracked. Warned me it could still collapse.”

“Thanks for the report, you two. Split the duty with Mikus for the day. Mikey? Take over. Move our people over here by the cliff after everyone gets a couple of hours of sleep, it’ll help cut the smell and keep us together. Then we’ll start getting things cleaned up this afternoon. Watches all around, dig us in, and see if you can make some defenses here in the village. Other than that, do what you think best.

“I’m going to wander down to the lake and see what I can see with the boats. If I can get one of the boats in the water and find a net without holes in it, we can start bringing in a catch. Which remind me, get someone to lash together a smoking rack. We’ll be here a couple of days at least.”

“Aye, Donnor. Sure sounds like an excuse ta’ be fishin’ while we be workin’, though.”

“You know how to run a boat?” Donnor grinned.

“Ahh, shaddup,” Mikus grumped.

***

Donnor left the three to wander. He passed a couple of people; some asleep, some awake, those awake either on watch or doing minor chores. The village smelled, a pungent combination of blood, ondilaan, and the sickly-sweet smell of rotting corpses.

Have to see if we can burn the dead in that hole ... Gods, the smoke will be seen for miles.

Over towards the wagon, Deya and Feya were sharpening their spears, chatting away a few strides from the edge of the pit. He shook his head, saddened they were getting so used to the bloodshed that they were relaxing close to it. Then he noticed they both kept their backs and their gaze from the pit.

Good. At least they’re not that jaded yet.

The set up around the wagon reminded him of his days guarding the caravans. The wagon was pulled up by a partially collapsed wall, and had a faded red sailcloth stretched between the two to form a canopy. Under it was his ilari and their son, sleeping peacefully under the watchful eyes of the ch’ten. Tonat chittered something when she caught sight of him, Dap yawning and coming into view.

“Hello, Commander.”

“Morning, Dap. You all set up here?”

“Yeah. Did Saress find you?” he asked, yawning once more.

“She did. She’s back by the cliff talking to Mikus and Keris.” Dap yawned again. “Get some sleep Dap, you’re dead on your feet.”

“Yes, Commander. Tonat asks if you want some stew.”

“No. I’m heading down to the boats to see if I can get one in the water to get us some fish.”

Tonat chittered something over her shoulder and snapped her fingers after Dap translated. Tonat kept giving Dap orders while a member of the ch’ten appeared at Donnor’s side.

“Uh, this is Itak. He will be your guard today,” Dap said.

“Dap, I don’t need a guard.”

“Tonat was very specific. Ahton worked it out with Saress before he went to sleep. Ari, Tommy, and you don’t go anywhere without a guard.”

Donnor sighed knowing it was futile to argue. “I don’t suppose he’s suddenly fluent in the common tongue, is he?”

“No, Commander.”

“Of course not. Hello, Itak, welcome aboard.”

The sprite glanced over when his name was said and nodded, then went back to watching around.

“He does know we’re still in camp?”

“Yes, Commander.” Dap smiled through another yawn. Tonat chittered at him, Dap chuckling and chittering in return. “Tonat says to have fun, and catch many fish.”

“Heh. Yes, ma’am. Get some sleep, Dap.” He stroked Arisaylia’s face then placed one hand on Tommy before leaving, noticing that half the ch’ten was awake and on guard. Don’t have to worry about them, he thought, remembering how deadly the sprites could be. He took one last glance at his family before turning away. “Come on Itak, let’s head down to shore.”

Itak followed him past the wagon and out of the village. They took the path down to the lakeshore in companionable silence, the stench clearing the further they went. The remaining boats were pulled up on the bank, all damaged to a greater or lesser degree. And it didn’t look like he’d missed anything when he came down during the night, fingering the hole in the bottom of one of them that’d probably been made by an axe.

He walked up to the one he thought was still useable, leaving water-filled footprints in the coarse brown grit of the shore. It looked like someone had tried to light it on fire and then put it out again, a lot of char along its flanks. Itak helped him roll it right side up, then he walked around it, noticing a pile of cloth and netting where it had been.

Must be one of those nests Keris was talking about. No wonder they didn’t destroy this one. He rooted through the pile. The net was torn, looking like it had been hacked to bits. And the stained, soiled cloth he found used to be a sail. It reeked of the ondilaan, though, all but falling apart in his hands. Need to burn that.

Some shiny bits fell out as he rooted around, an earring here and some colored glass there. The glass might have been from some kind of decoration, maybe a figurine, but he’d never know. Not finding anything else he put them aside, then had Itak help him push the boat partially in the water.

Clambering in, he inspected it for leaks and luckily found none. There was some scorching along the rail, but the fire never reached the inside of the hull from what he could see. The mast was broken off about a foot from its base, but that was it.

Need a hammer or something to get the pin out, he thought, inspecting how the mast had been secured in place. He scanned the other boats, confirming what he already knew: There were no other masts he could use. Damn. Guess we’ll need to make one.

He sighed and got up, wandering over towards the pavilion. Itak was turning out to be a surprisingly good companion, just following along, content to remain silent. His unobtrusive presence was helping Donnor relax.

He paused to look out over the lake, its gentle waves lapping along shore in the cool western breeze. The water was incredibly clear, the bottom easily seen despite the glare of the sun. There were some deep-water plants growing on the bottom, one a particularly brilliant green that was wafting in the current offshore. And there was something resting beside it he couldn’t quite figure out until it moved, two crabs perched on top of each other going their separate ways.

A school of hand-sized fish swam near the bank, a larger fish shadowing them from further off shore. Then a fish jumped further out, startling a bird that was floating on the water nearby. He could easily catch enough to meet their needs.

If he only had a net.

The partially torn roof of the pavilion was flapping in the breeze, and underneath it were the remains of Silverlake’s livelihood, open boxes lying on their sides looted and rooted through. Line, net, a fisherman’s spike, the remains of a broken paddle, and a pile of hooks were all haphazardly strewn across the floor.

Donnor sighed and started shifting the pile, seeing if there was anything useful he could find. A large pot was under one of the boxes, and it looked like the kind of cauldron they used back in Lakeside. Tonat could probably use this, he thought, remembering the steamed crabs they used to catch at home. Or the tiny lobsters they used to boil, found under almost every rock along the Serensea. He set the pot outside before returning to the mess, trying to arrange things into some semblance of order. A couple hours or so passed as he organized what was left, arranging what he found into neat piles on the grass outside.

“Hey, Commander? Donnor?” a high voice called.

“Over here,” he called back, stepping out so he could be seen.

“There you are,” Petal said. She skipped over, peering curiously into the shelter. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning up this mess. I need some things to fish with, and everything here is all mixed up.”

“Ari sent me to look for you. Well … not really. She’s up with Tommy. They woke up a bit ago and are looking for you. Mikus said you were down here clearing your head and not to bother you, but I got curious and came to see if you needed any help.”

“Heh. Not much for following orders, are you?”

“I’m sorry,” she grinned, obviously not sorry at all. “Mom always said I’ve got a mind of my own. I can go if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big of a deal.” Donnor waved her worry away. “Here, your punishment for bothering me is to help me carry this back up to Tonat.” He smiled, pointing to the pot. “Grab the other side, troublemaker.”

“Sure, Commander.”

Donnor sighed, looking ruefully at her unrepentant smile. “Your mom was right. Come on, you,” he said grabbing the other side. “Itak, let’s go.”

“Hello, Ilari. Petal found you?” Ari asked as they set the pot down by the wagon.

“Yep. Tonat, I found this down on the beach. You can probably use it, I figure.”

Rast, one of the troop’s other sprites, was translating for him. Tonat came over and patted Donnor’s arm, chittering with Itak as he helped her move the new and larger pot over to the fire.

“Hi, Da’.”

“Hi, Tommy. What are you two up to?”

“Nothing, beloved. We rose only a short while ago. You look exhausted,” Ari said as she hugged him a greeting.

Donnor sat down, patting the ground beside him. “I’ve been down at the lake seeing what our chances are of getting a boat ready. It’ll take a day or so to get the one I picked out up and running. We’ll need to cut and fix a new mast; there are no paddles I can find, so taking it out that way just isn’t going to work.”

“We could always just fish from shore,” Tommy said.

“Sure, if we had anything to fish with. The nets I found need mended, and the line I found to mend them with is a tangled mess. At least I found a ton of it, but it’ll be hours before we get it all sorted out.”

“Well at least there’re no emergencies this morning,” Ari said.

“There is that. How are you two feeling?”

“Tired, Ilari. We need to eat and regain our strength before we start healing again.”

Donnor looked over towards the survivors, all humans or gnomes from what he could see. They were all asleep, and it was probably a good thing.

There was a crash on the other side of the pit. Sollip was over there looking sheepish, a wall collapsed around him. “Sorry!”

Donnor turned back, noticing none of the survivors had stirred. “They must be in a bad way,” he mentioned to Ari. “They didn’t even twitch.”

“I have them asleep, beloved. They are so starved they are digesting their own bodies for fuel. It’ll take days of healing before the survivors recover; it’s easier on them this way. Which reminds me, Rast?”

“Yes, Lady Arisaylia,” he replied.

“Can you translate to Tonat for me?”

“Yes, Lady.” He chittered, calling Tonat away from talking to Itak.

“Tonat, the survivors will need to eat, but won’t be able to eat anything solid without throwing it up for at least a day or two. Saress will kill me if I use Tommy to speed up their healing because it’ll exhaust us again. Can you make a thin broth out of some kind of meat? Something easy to digest?”

Rast finished translating and Tonat looked thoughtfully up in the sky. Then she chittered to Rast before looking at Donnor expectantly.

“Tonat asks if the ch’ten can hunt.”

“By all means, do what you need to. You’re not mine. If you need to hunt, hunt.”

Tonat pursed her lips like she wanted to disagree, but nodded. She chittered back and forth with Rast and Itak before the two of them got the rest of the sprites up. The ch’ten rose, stretching and listening to Tonat’s orders; because orders they most obviously were.

“What’s going on?” Donnor asked.

“She’s telling them to go hunt,” Ari said.

“She is asking them to get her a large bird, or a few smaller ones, Commander,” Rast said.

“Let them wake up, at least!” Donnor said, half laughing as he watched her shoo the ch’ten out of camp.

Tonat chuckled after Rast translated. “They’ll be fine, they sleep too much, she says.”

“Maybe I should put you in charge of training,” Donnor mused. Ari chuckled, Tonat laughing along after Rast translated.

“Tonat says to get what you need to before they leave. You are staying in camp until they come back or Saress wakes up.”

Donnor raised one eyebrow.

Tonat walked up to him and crossed her arms over her chest. She frowned, giving him a look that was eerily like the one Yella used to give him before chittering at him sternly. Rast looked nervously back and forth between her and him before she said something sharp his way.

“She asks if she is going to have problems with you. She reminds you that she makes your food …”

“So?”

“I’m sorry, Commander, she wants you to know she’s seen some interesting plants nearby. Ummm, she says they do interesting things.”

Ari giggled.

“Are you threatening me, Tonat?”

“She says ‘yes’, Commander.”

He stared hard at her before chuckling, seeing the humor in her eyes. “Women!” He threw his hands up. “Fine, I’ll stay in camp.”

Tonat snorted, then chittered something before turning back to her cooking. Ari laughed aloud.

“What? What did she say?” Donnor asked, looking Ari’s way.

“She said ‘men’, dear.”

Donnor sighed, even Tommy chuckling at that last bit of information. “Tonat? Can I go back down to shore now? Before I have to endure my imprisonment up here?” he asked, sarcastically.

Tonat chittered something over her shoulder.

“Only if you ask nicely, Commander,” Rast translated.

“Nice.”

Chores

Donnor gathered a few members of the troop to follow him back down to the pavilion and gather what he needed. It took a while, but using a few unbroken chests they were able to pile bits of tackle into some semblance of order. The nets and line were a mess, though, so they ended up just lumping them all together to get them back up the hill.

After he returned under the watchful eye of Tonat, she said something to Ahton while making sure Donnor stayed put. The sprites listened to whatever she was telling them with a smile, some of them looking his way while he cleared out an area to work in. And Ahton was scratching his head with a wry grin, Tonat sounding like she was scolding her mate for some reason.

But after that, a long conversation ensued, Donnor glancing at them as he strung a line between two half-collapsed walls. Tonat was waving her spoon at Ahton and another sprite while the girl poked her head around some supplies to watch. Eventually, a consensus was made, and the ch’ten called the little girl down. She climbed from the wagon and took off after them, happily trailing along behind.

“They’re taking her with them?” Donnor questioned.

“The sprites of the wild places teach their children young,” Dap said. “Tonat said she is old enough to keep up and has been riding in the wagon too long. She needs the exercise.”

“Huh. Tough group.”

Dap translated for Tonat. “She says ‘yes’, Commander. She asks what you’ll be doing, and if you need any help.”

“Probably not. Tommy, come help me with this. We need to get this net untangled from the line, then hang it up and see if we can fix it.”

“Sure, Da’. Gods know we’ve done enough of this back home.”

“Yep.”      

“Commander? Tonat wants to know if she can take Ari and gather some herbs. She’s seen some around on the hills and meadows and says Ari can translate for her.”

“That will be helpful, Ilari,” Ari said. “It will give us something to do, and Tommy and I still need a few hours of rest before we can heal. I might as well be doing something useful while I wait,” Ari said, offhandedly.

“Then, sure. Have fun. Untangling this mess is going to take a couple of hours, easy.”

“Anything you need us to look for?”

“I don’t know a thing about herbs, you know that. You and Falia used to tease me about it all the time. Yella accused me of being hopeless.”

Ari grinned. “Well maybe not hopeless, but a girl still has some work to do.”

“By the gods, could you two not do that? I’m right here you know,” Tommy said.

Ari stuck her tongue out at him.

Donnor grinned. “Anyway, if you see Larn, could you send him to me? I need him to cut a mast, and he’s the only logger we have besides Mikus. Speaking of Mikus, where is he?”

“Down in the hole with Karn and Turred, Ilari. They went down there not long after you went to the lake.”

“I guess I’ll see him when he comes back up. Go have fun, you two. Make sure anything poisonous doesn’t get in my food.”

Dap translated the last bit, Tonat laughing as she and Ari walked away.

“Dap? Do me a favor. Since you’re free for the moment, have a walk around. Find Larn and bring him back.”

“Sure, Commander.” Donnor shot him a look. Dap chuckled, heading off towards the rest of the troop.

“Where’d you find this mess, Da’?” Tommy asked, sorting through the tangled confusion of net and line.

“There’s a pavilion full of equipment down on shore. Looks like the ondilaan just dumped everything when they looted through.”

“It’s going to take all day to sort through this.”

“Probably.”

Tommy sighed. “Think we should just cut it?”

“Not yet. Let’s see what we can do.”

The two worked in companionable silence, spreading out the net. They had the first section hung when Dap returned with Larn.

“You wanted to see me, Commander?” Larn asked, stressing his rank.

Donnor eyed Dap before responding, both him and Larn had wide grins on their faces. “Yeah. Anyone besides you and Mikus know any woodworking?”

“Aye. Werin has some skill. Was talking to him the other day.”

“Damn. He’s still wounded, and Ari won’t be healing for a while yet.” Donnor thought for a bit, scratching the scruff on his chin. “Well, there’s nobody else I can think of. Grab someone else and head down to the beach, you’ll find a boat there half in the water. I need a mast cut for it; about three times your height with the base as big around as the broken one you’ll find in the boat. You’ll need a hammer to pound the pin out to get a better look at it.”

“I can do that by myself, Commander, no problem,” Larn replied.

“I’m sure you can, but take someone with you anyway. We don’t control this area, and we don’t know if there’re any more ondilaan around here. I want everyone travelling in pairs.”

“Aye, Commander.”

“And let me know who you’re off with and which way you’re heading before you disappear.”

“You got it, Commander,” he said, walking off towards the rest of the troop. Dap left with him, grinning the entire time.

“Hey, Da’? Gimme a hand with this. I think I got this untangled enough to hang the next section.”

They both worked to get the net up on the line, finally managing to get it secured when Larn and Ladig returned. Reporting in, Larn said they were heading down to the boat first, then they’d try the trees east along the shore before looking anywhere else.

Donnor waved them off and returned to the net, finally finding one end of the mending twine that was tangled through. “Found an end, Tommy. You want to untangle the line or keep trying to get the net hung?”

“I think the net. I almost got this section untangled.”

Donnor nodded, starting the tedious process of threading the line back through the net. Tommy got the section he was working on hung. It was ripped, but he gamely hung it on the line, taking a step back to look at it.

“Only about a quarter of it left, Tommy, then we can see how bad it is.”

“Aye, Da’. Think we can fix it?”

“I hope so. We don’t have enough line to make another one, and we’ll be here for weeks if we have to catch the fish with just hook and line.”

Tommy grunted and got back to work.

Time passed. People came and went, getting themselves something to eat from Tonat’s pot. Donnor paused every now and then to walk around the village, checking in on those awake and making sure everything was fine. Nobody reported a thing, most simply enjoying the chance to rest while not being on the road. Everyone was sharpening their blades and spears, though, something he didn’t fail to notice.

Donnor returned to the net, working on an especially tangled section when Mikus and the other dwarves ambled up. “Finally come up for some fresh air?”

“It be stinkin’ worse up here,” Mikus drawled. “Get some food, ye two. I’ll be joinin’ ye in a bit,” he said to Karn and Turred.

“You were gone for a while. Find anything?”

“Aye and no. This whole hill, no’ be a hill. We’re thinkin’ it used ta’ be a foundation fer’ somethin’, but who knows what it was fer’. Ya’ can go down a wee bit more than we originally thought, an’ there’s a whole ’nother level below tha’ one we found. It’s all caved in; by time or by purpose, I canna’ tell. Ya’ can get to a couple rooms down there, but tha’ be it.”

“Find anything worthwhile?”

“No’ yet, but we’re still lookin’.” Mikus spat. “This whole place be tellin’ a sad tale, Donnor.”

“How’s that?”

“There be about twenty, maybe thirty more bodies down there. It looks like some were dyin’ o’ wounds, while others were jus’ wastin’ away. Whatever’s been goin’ on down there with these people, it’s been goin’ on a long time.”

“It’s not like the ondilaan couldn’t break down that wall. With as weak as they are, those people couldn’t have fought them off.” Donnor pointed over to the sleeping survivors.

“No, but they had a right arsenal ‘o crossbows. We put the whole lot o’ ‘em an’ tha’ bolts we found inta’ tha’ wagon last night. They been usin’ ‘em ta’ shoot tha’ ondilaan through tha’ holes in their wall. Tha’ tunnel there be barely a shoulder wide, an’ the ondilaan had ta’ come at ‘em single file fer’ abou’ thirty strides. A death trap it be, and a damn good one, too.

“They shot a whole bunch o’ tha’ bastards. Found more than a few of tha’ ondilaan wi’ crossbow bolts straight through ‘em. But buildin’ tha’ wall left our survivors wi’ no way out. Those people sealed themselves in defendin’ wha’ they had, an’ the ondilaan musta’ decided to wait them out. ‘Twas scary brave,” Mikus trailed off, shaking his head.

“Any idea how long they were down there?”

“No, but more than a week or two. A couple o’ rooms on tha’ lower level be filled ta’ tha’ brim wi’ mushrooms. They be called ortach in me tongue. Dunno’ what ya’ idiot humans call ‘em. Every clan I know grow ‘em fer’ food or beer, an’ they be growin’ quick, too. But no’ quick enough fer’ these folk. They been rationin’ ’em, it be obvious. Someone even been tryin’ ta’ speed up their growth by puttin’ ‘em on their dead.” Mikus spat again.

“Would that work?”

Mikus just looked at him, his face grim.

“Anything else?”

“There be another room sunk inta’ tha’ water at about tha’ level o’ tha’ lake. They were tryin ta’ get out tha’ way, too. Found a body there, dead from drownin’, caught on a rock under tha’ surface. Spoiled the water there.”

“Damn.”

“An’ there’s another room on tha’ lower level. Seems like it could be a big one by the echoes, but there be a big bloody slab blockin’ the way. Unless yer’ shorter’n me knee, ya’ ain’t gettin’ through there. They tried anyway, tryin’ ta’ dig through tha’ feckin’ stone floor. There be bloody fingernail marks on tha’ floor.

“I can tell ya’ this much: they been down there a long time.” Mikus spat again, shaking his head before looking over at the survivors with haunted eyes. “Weeks, easy,” he trailed off. Donnor followed his gaze, both of them studying the unconscious group. “They no’ be movin’,” Mikus said after a bit. “Ari?”

“Yeah, she magicked them asleep; says they’ll heal faster that way. It’ll be a few days until they’re healed.”

Mikus grunted. “Good. Maker knows they been through enough. Bein’ sealed in, wi’ no way out ta’ slowly starve … tha’ be a fear all my kin can understand. Pure damn luck they lasted as long as they did.”

“Hey, Da’? I think we can hang this last bit up, I got it untangled. Can you give me a hand?”

Mikus grunted. “Go work wi’ yer’ boy. I need ta’ eat an’ clear me head. Then I think I’ll be checkin’ in on tha’ twins.” Mikus glanced one last time at the survivors, shaking his head before joining Karn and Turred.

Donnor helped Tommy hang the final section, finally able to see the damage to the net. There were two big rents in it, one that almost split the net in two.

“There’s the other end of your line.” Tommy pointed.

“No. I think that’s another one. There’s another end over here.”

“Maybe there’s three. There’s another end over here, too.” Tommy pointed towards the other side.

Donnor sighed. “Welp, back to work.” He caught sight of a bird circling high overhead while he stretched, and he watched it for a while before returning to untangle the line, being warmed by the midday sun. It was a tedious process, but it was also incredibly important. If anything was in the net when they cast it, it’d just get tangled and torn again.

Ari returned a while later with Tonat, each having a basket of plants. They chatted away, Ari responding brokenly to whatever Tonat was saying. Her voice summoned Saress who wandered in from the cliff while eyeing the net blankly, still obviously waking up.

“Get yourself some tea, Saress.” Donnor grinned. “There’s still some of that stuff from Resthaven on the wagon to help you wake up. I’m confined to the village on Tonat’s orders, the ch’ten are out hunting, and everyone else is getting some rest. We’ll get people up and moving in about an hour or two.”

Saress stared at him blankly before flicking one ear and moving off towards the wagon.

“Having fun, you two?” Donnor asked Ari.

“I wouldn’t say fun, Ilari, but if you mean did we accomplish anything, then the answer is yes. If you need a plant for any reason to do anything imaginable, ask Tonat. She reminds me of some of the scholars back in the Vale.”

“Well versed?”

“She is a walking tome of herbal lore. And I only understood about half of it.”

“Good to know.”

“Do you still need Tommy? It’s time to start healing again and I need his help.”

“No. I can do the rest.”

“Good. Finish what you are doing, Tomilanthus. I think I’ll teach you something new while we’re healing.”

“Sure, Ari. What are you going to teach?”

“You know how I go about finding someone’s wounds with my Tol? It’s time you learned how to do it on your own.” Tommy wandered over to where she was, an eager look on his face.

Donnor glanced their way while he worked, finally getting one of the lines completely untangled from the net. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was clear Ari was teaching Tommy how to do something with his magic. They worked well together, their gestures and grins communicating how much they enjoyed what they did.

He watched as Ari finished her instruction and then moved to where the wounded and the survivors were. She knelt beside Martok, placing her hands beside the wound she’d partially healed the night before, then her eyes began to shine. She worked her gift on the man, Tommy making sure to keep one hand on her at all times while a shimmer, like heat, passed from Tommy to her through his hand. Then Martok woke up, thanked the two profusely, and was sent to eat and collect his gear.

Been a long time since I’ve seen magic being taught, Donnor realized. A long time, indeed …

He thought back over all the things he’d seen since he’d found himself in this land, absently reminiscing over his years of memories while he worked. His ilari and their son healed the next man while he mused, this time Werin thanking them for healing the wound that had all but disemboweled him. And Donnor watched them while they healed, his fingers untangling the line without even thinking about it.

Even as dirty as they all were, she was still beautiful. The afternoon sun was shining off her scarlet hair, adding accents to it whenever she moved. And every now and then, he noticed Tommy’s hair shimmering to scarlet as well. They looked so alike, he realized, while worrying at a knot in the net. He could tell she was happy, content to be teaching their son how to use the gift they shared.

She must have felt him thinking about her because she turned and winked, a loving smile crossing her face. Then she returned to what she was doing, a shimmer continuing to run from Tommy to her through his hand. It felt good to be with them; just to be around and watch them work. And she must have known he was still watching her because he felt a sudden surge of love through the bond.

What a strange thing, Donnor mused, feeling her love wash over him. He grinned and sent his love back with a poke, aiming for the ticklish spot in her side. She smiled without looking up, and he felt her lovingly stroke his face before a sharp pinch assaulted his backside. Tommy looked up at him curiously when he jumped. Donnor just nodded his way, returning to untangling the line.

He could have sworn he heard her laugh in his head.

This just feels so natural ... so right, Donnor thought, feeling her attention return to her healing. He thought about her offer the other night, the night she’d almost stayed. They’d come so close to making love that night, closer than they’d ever come these last few weeks, but he’d been holding back. And he didn’t think he was going to be able to resist her much longer.

I’m sorry, Yella ... I love her, he thought. I love you … but I also love her. And I’ve fought the ondilaan too long to think you’re still alive. What we found here almost clinches it. He sighed, his mind falling silent as another thought came to the fore. I’m sorry Yel’. I guess I’ve been pretty sure you’re dead ... Now, I’m almost certain of it.

Donnor started thinking about Yella, the woman he’d wed. He could almost picture her, like she was standing right there, right before his eyes. A loving smile crossed her face as she watched him work, just like she always did, leaning in the doorway of their home back in Lakeside. She was smaller than him, constantly tan from working outside, and her blonde hair was falling past her shoulders in waves. And there were those purple flowers she always kept in her hair, tucked behind her ear on one side.

Yella’s clean scent wafted past him, mixed with the flowers in her hair. He heard her giggle as he remembered that, her cheeks dimpling as he approached. Then he gathered her into his arms, her blue eyes sparkling as she gazed up at him. Yella’s warm, comforting embrace enveloped him and he held her, burying his nose in her hair.

I love you, Yella. I’ll always love you. But my ilari needs me now, as much as I needed you. She’s here Yel’. She’s here with our son, and I love her. I’ll always love her. Just like I’ll always love you.

He could feel her love for him as he held her, surrounded by the scent of their home and her hair. Yella clutched him, squeezing him desperately, not wiping the tear from her cheek. It was like she was trying to hold onto him forever, but she pulled back, glancing over his shoulder with a sudden vulnerability that was plain to see.

She kissed him. It was soft at first, like the barest whisper, or a breath on a cheek. Then the moment took them, Yella crushing herself to him and mewling through her teeth. She giggled as he pressed her back into the doorway, unleashing his passion, and their kiss became all but endless. But their love was not to be.

Yella placed her hands on his chest and pulled away. Wiping her lips, she fingered the necklet he’d given to her the day they were married. She studied him intently, then she reached up on her tip toes, pecking him softly before dropping back down and ended their embrace.

He tried to stop her, but she placed a hand on his heart. She shook her head, a wistful look entering her eye, and then leaned once more on the doorjamb. She hugged herself while another tear slowly tracked down her cheek. Then she mouthed, I love you, her beautiful blue eyes never leaving his own as she took a step backwards into their home.

Then she slowly closed the door

He took a shuddering breath, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. Gods, that was so real ... I miss you, Yel’. I’ll always miss you. And I’ll love you ... Forever.

He forced himself to concentrate on the net, focusing on the twine he’d never stopped untangling while whatever that was took him. Memories bombarded him as he worked; things from the past he half remembered. Flashes of Tommy as an infant playing with the ball he’d made out of his old travelling cloak. Yella laughing as Tommy fell on his butt trying to catch it. The time he walked in on Yella crying out of shear frustration because Tommy wouldn’t speak, her spending days trying to get him to say her name.

The meal she’d made for his birthday; well, at least the day he celebrated it on. A veritable feast of things from the ‘sea; Tommy messily eating with crab all over his face. Her insisting, birthday or not, it was his job to take Tommy down to the ‘sea to wash him up. Him laughing all the while, while he did so.

Tommy and him playing in a sunny glade while Yella wandered the woods, finding her plants and herbs to make her potions. His son waddling up to her, flowers clenched in his fist to give to her. The loving look in her eye.

The night he came home shortly after they’d married, Mikus finally getting him out of his depression by forcing him to drink. She’d lain awake until he returned, asking again and again what was wrong. He never answered her, unable to tell her a part of him was missing, two emerald green eyes constantly haunting his dreams. She’d pulled him to her, cradling his head while he wept. Then she made love to him that night, urgently, passionately, holding him until he drifted off to sleep.

He remembered her smile the day he brought her flowers. He’d taken Tommy into the woods with the excuse of camping overnight. They’d spent their time looking for anything pretty, having amassed a huge collection of flowering things. It included one orange flower that had big, floppy petals that smelled so sweet. She’d teased him for years after that; that he’d wanted to get rid of her, the flower having a deadly, poisonous root.

More images flashed by. Some good, some bad, but all with a feeling of love and companionship.

Gods, he would miss her.

He would still look for her, hold out hope that she somehow survived, but he would miss her. And when he got back to Lakeside, he would make an offering to the ‘sea in her name. Floating her favorite flowers out on the burning raft people used for burial on the ‘sea.

He finished untangling the most recent bit of line and reached for the next before realizing his task was complete.

Goodbye, Yella, he thought, gathering up the rolls of twine he’d managed to salvage. He stood up, studying the net, feeling her kiss on his lips once more. Then their home appeared between him and the net, shimmering, shining, and safe. The image was a haunting dream that faded ever so slowly, disappearing as if it had never been. Then the sweet scent of her left him, wafting away on the breeze.

He sighed, and turned away.

Arisaylia was staring at him, holding Tommy’s hand in a white-knuckled grip. Tears poured from her eyes while her love for him blazed through the bond. She mouthed ‘I love you’ with everything she was before she ran to him, wrapping him up in a desperate embrace.

Her love surrounding him.

Fulfilling his dreams.

Permission

Tommy watched Ari and his da’ by the net. She was holding him, stroking one side of his face while speaking quietly in elven, and his da’ only had eyes for her. They sat there, staring into each other’s eyes.

Tommy was barely concentrating on Werin’s wound, his Tol was telling him where it was without even looking at it. The wrongness of the wound stood out in stark relief from the rest of his body, an ugly broken fissure in the verdant plain of Werin’s being. And Tommy wondered what it would take to bring those edges back together, but it was only a passing thought. He remembered Ari’s admonishment against trying to do anything on his own while he listened to the beautiful elven words pass her lips. And as he let his concentration slip further, his awareness of the wound went with it while his da’ responded to her fluently in her tongue.

Ari had been teaching him how to reach out with his Tol into someone else to assess their wounds. It was a lot easier than making a mage globe, and he’d said as much. But Ari said being able to touch someone’s skin while they were unconscious was making it incredibly less difficult. Even then, she said she wasn’t surprised it was easy for him with as sensitive as he was, and she’d said there was a trick she was going to teach him when they healed the next person.

She certainly wasn’t teaching him now, being wholly focused on his da’. And by the looks of it, she wouldn’t be teaching him for a while now either. Maybe the rest of the day, he thought, watching her tears fall from her eyes.

It was still a little weird seeing them look at each other like that, and he felt the last vestiges of his anger towards them try and rear its ugly head. But that anger just fell away the more he watched, seeing the two of them so close together. They just look right together, he realized, then mentally shrugged, a little embarrassed by how openly they were showing their affection for one another.

“Come, Tomilanthus. Your lessons are done for now,” Saress said.

“Where to?”

“I think we will go down to the lake. Your father has made a good start in teaching you the staff, but your balance and footwork need improvement. We shall train.”

“Think they’ll want me up here?” he asked, nodding towards Ari and his da’.

Saress glanced their way, her slit-pupiled eyes dilating before she returned to Tommy. “No. They need … time.” Then one of her ears cocked back when Ari started saying something, then bent almost flat when she was done. “Come.”

“You’re not going to guard them?”

“No, the sprites will watch.” Saress, of all people, was looking slightly embarrassed. “Come.”

Tommy rose, noticing the area around Ari and his da’ was noticeably lacking people. Then he heard Tonat chittering softly to the dwarves, shooing them away to give Ari and his da’ their space. The rest of the ch’ten was clearing the space around them as well, one of them nodding towards Saress and taking up station with his back towards his da’. Ari and his da’ kept speaking to one another in elven, totally oblivious to what was going on around them.

“What are they saying?” Tommy asked as they walked away.

“The sprites? I do not know.”

“No. Da’ and Ari.”

“That is … none of your business.”

“It’s not like they’re being quiet.”

She glanced his way while her ears turned back, then she pulled her braid over one shoulder. She fiddled with it, obviously listening to whatever was being said. “Your father was remembering his wife. He said goodbye to her, and is convinced she is dead.”

“That’s nothing new,” Tommy said ruefully. “We’ve been thinking Mum’s been dead for a while now.”

I miss you Mum …

“The difference is your father has given up hope she is alive.”

“Oh …” Tommy muttered, the tightness growing in his chest. He looked back, taking in how right they still seemed together, how easy it all was. It helped the hurt some, but he couldn’t prevent a little bitterness. His eyes welled, thinking of his mum.

“He is close to declaring himself for her once more,” Saress continued after a pause.

“Huh?”

“Becoming a couple. Declaring themselves mates. I do not know how it is said outside the Vale.”

“Courting.” Tommy sniffled. “The girls back home always worked themselves up over it.”

Saress looked at him, assessing his mood. “Chased, were you?”

“Well, yeah.”

Saress smiled gently. “Poor, Tomilanthus. It must have been terribly difficult to be chased ...”

“Oh, shut up,” he said, face flaming. Saress chuckled and he shoved her without thinking about it. She raised an eyebrow at him and then grinned, shoving him back in return. They both got into a playful shoving match as they finished their walk towards the lake. Their chuckles eased his tension.

“I think we needed that, Tomilanthus. I haven’t played like that in years,” she said, taking in his improved mood.

“Don’t you have a family?” She shoved him once more, causing him to stumble. “Brute!”

“My mother and father. They both returned to Askiland many years ago.”

“Friends?” Tommy asked, trying to shove her but missing when she dodged.

“Some among the J’al’osil. But we do not ‘play’.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Definitely not boring, young mage.” She reached across, poking him in his side before he could get away.

“Well, you had to have done something for fun.”

“I enjoyed the parks and museums, and spending time alone in the woods.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“You forget. I am Nu’Surledyn, like you.”

“So?” They’d reached the shore of the lake; the early afternoon sun was glimmering off the waves.

“Here, stand on one of these stones. I will try to touch you with my hands; try to stop me. Feel free to hop from one stone to another, just don’t fall off the stones. This will help train your balance.”

“Okay.”

“Nu’Surledyn are not welcome in parts of the Vale. In some places, I was only accepted because I am J’al’osil.”

“You have to have had some friends.” He dodged one hand, missing the other one poking him in his side.

“I did. But none were as open or easy as the people here. The troop is amazingly accepting, young mage.”

“Well, if you weren’t so mysterious all the time people wouldn’t think you’re so scary, sis.” He hopped to another rock, almost slipping as he dodged another hand.

Saress stopped and stared at him. “Will you stop saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“Sis!” she said, thrusting one arm forward and poking him in the gut. “I am not your sister!”

“I’m only teasing,” Tommy said, backing away, worried he’d made her mad. Definitely don’t want to make her mad, he thought, noticing her ears were back.

“It’s not a joke, Tomilanthus,” she said, frowning.

“Ummm, sorry?”

She snorted, flicking one ear. “Come, we train,” she said, continuing to poke out at him.

They kept at it for a while, her talking him through how to better place his feet. She eventually had him hopping from one stone to the next to avoid her, Tommy slipping and falling every now and then. His aching tailbone from one particular fall was an easy reminder to keep his balance, and as they kept at it, his concentration focused down on what he was doing to the exclusion of all else.

He had to; her fingernails were sharp.

Eventually after stumbling a few times in a row, Saress stopped. “You did well, young mage.” She grinned. “A J’al’osil you are not, nor will you ever be, but you did well.”

“Thanks.”

“I agree,” his da’ said.

Tommy looked up and saw Ari and his da’ sitting a few paces away. They looked like they’d been sitting there for a while, watching them train.

“Nisa Saliantrea. Strike Leader,” Saress said in manner of greeting. Tommy thought she seemed a little defensive, like she was uncomfortable for some reason. He caught Ari looking her way, a strange smile across her face.

“Is that pathfinder training, Saress?” Donnor asked.

“No. Well, similar.”

“That has to be excellent training for balance.”

“It is.”

“How is it done?”

“You move from one object to the next, practicing blocks and strikes as you move. The simplest form is what I was doing with your son, Strike Leader. Donnor,” she corrected as both Ari and his eyebrows raised. “It trains how to move in uneven terrain to avoid being hit.”

“Can you show us how it is done? As you would do it?”

Saress looked uncomfortable, but nodded when Donnor said please. She took out her knives, then nimbly hopped up onto one of the rocks. Then taking a final glance towards Ari, her eyes seemed to glaze over as she lowered her stance.

It’s almost like she’s dancing, Tommy thought as he watched her gliding from stone to stone. Sometimes quick, and other times slow, she made an almost palpable connection to the stones beneath her feet. Wherever she went she made a connection, her stance conveyed she would not be moved for all to see.

Her movements quickened in both speed and strength, blades flashing out to block attacks from enemies only she could see. She leapt, making a great arc with one arm, her knife’s spine pressed against it, the sun glinting off the blade while she moved. The motion distracted from a backwards thrust from her other blade that would have driven deep into any enemy if the attack had struck.

She continued, her arms a dizzying whirlwind of shimmering flashes while the sun glinted off her blades. She danced atop the wet stones, striking out in every direction, completely leaving the ground in places whenever she flipped. Knives flashing out while in midair, she landed on a single foot and a knee, ready to move in any direction. Her torso was low to the ground, her blades guarding her sides. She froze.

A long moment passed before her eyes unglazed, then barely breathing hard, she stood, nodding to Ari before her.

“Al’aan a ness, J’al’osil Saress,” Ari said. Saress bowed following her words.

“I agree, very nice. How do you keep your balance through a spin on stones that are wet like that?”

“It is how you place your feet, Donnor. That and your balance over them,” Saress answered.

“Can you show me? As you practice it?”

She glanced at Ari, who nodded. “… Yes.”

His da’ stood, moving to the rocks and started talking to Saress about balance and foot placement. Tommy sidled over to Ari, settling in beside her to watch.

“Thank you for giving us our space earlier. It was very kind,” Ari said.

“Well, Saress said we should. And the ch’ten helped out.”

“I know, and I’ve thanked them already. I wanted to make sure I thanked you as well.”

His da’ tried to hop and spin from one rock to the next but wobbled, losing his balance. Saress steadied him for a moment, mentioning something about his center.

“You’re welcome.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Your father? Together, with me?”

He glanced at her and then back towards his da’, watching him and Saress practice. “It’s weird. I mean, you are my mother, there's no doubt about that. You two have already been ‘together’, I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t. But you’re not Mum.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“I know. You never have … which is why it’s weird.”

Saress was helping his da’, one hand steadying him as he tried another leap and spin. This time he only wobbled a bit instead of completely losing his balance, and the two of them descended into a conversation about toe placement of all things from what Tommy could hear.

Ari studied him before speaking. “Why is that weird?”

Tommy thought about it before answering, ensuring his words were correct. “It’s easy being around you and Da’. Together, I mean. It was easy with Mum, but it wasn’t this easy. Mum always had her way of doing things, but I grew up with it.” He shrugged. “It was just the way things were.”

“But I’ve only known you for about a year. Only known you’re my mother for what? A month?” He glanced her way. “And in just that little bit of time, it’s become just as easy. That’s weird. And I feel a little guilty about it, too.”

“Tommy, I can slow down ... stop. I’m not trying to replace anyone. Just being here, spending time with you and your father, it can be enough.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I mean, you are my mother. There’s no denying it and I like knowing you. Even if we found Mum, I wouldn’t want you to stop being around. It’s just weird how easy it is. You being around, I mean.”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t want to leave. I love you and your father very much. I thought we were going to be married when I was pregnant with you. I never imagined being separated from him, or from you.” She stared blankly towards his da’ and Saress.

“Was it hard?”

“Was what hard?”

“Being away?”

She was silent for a long time. “Yes.”

Saress had his da’ hopping back and forth from one rock to next, much faster than before. Saress kept one hand on his arm, steadying him, while an ear was cocked in their direction.

“Are you and Da’ courting?” Tommy asked, embarrassed he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“No.”

“Then what were you talking about?”

“Your mother. Your father was letting her go, admitting to himself that she might be dead.”

“He’s known that for ages. We’ve even talked about it, the two of us.”

“There’s a world of difference between talking about it and admitting it to yourself, Tomilanthus.”

Tommy glanced her way, catching Saress openly regarding them. His da’ was still hopping back and forth on the rocks, and he heard Saress urge him to go a little faster.

“You think he still thought Mum was alive?”

“I think your father still held out hope. I’ll be honest, Tommy, I hope she is too … for her sake.”

“Really?”

“I don’t want anyone to die; to be taken from life around us before their time.”

“Now that’s just weird, too.”

“Hmmm?”

“That you would want Mum to be alive. Any of the girls back home wouldn’t give two thoughts about her if they’d had their eyes on Da’.”

“Tommy, I owe Yella a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I won’t insult what she’s given you or your father by thinking about her in that way.”

“What way?”

“Tommy, she loved you and raised you as her own. It shows. By life, it shows. And she loved … loves … your father, as well. I wasn’t there. How could I insult her by wishing her dead? For doing what, loving the two of you? She doesn’t deserve to die for that.”

Tommy studied her. “Like I said, weird.” He turned back to Saress and his da’, Ari and him watching in silence for a time. Saress had been talking his da’ through a move, switching to elvish when some word escaped her.

“It sounds like they’re finishing up,” Ari said after a while. Saress was helping his da’ through another fast spin. Her ears were still cocked their way, even while she helped his da’.

“Your father wanted your help fixing the boat he’s found. Larn found a tree the right size, and is bringing it back. We came to tell you about it, but your father’s never passed up a chance to improve his skills for as long as I’ve known him. Even back in the Vale.”

“He was like that at home, too. What’s she teaching him?”

“A blade dance. The blade dance she performed is designed to train balance on icy terrain. It works well on wet surfaces, too.”

“You know about them?”

“Well, as much as any mage from the college does. They practice a’felia’ta in the gardens.”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, the blade dance. It’s called a’felia’ta in elven.”

“Oh.”

“Your father seems to be picking it up quickly, though.”

“Yeah, sis is a good teacher.”

Ari glanced at him. “That’s the second time I’ve heard you say that.”

“Say what?”

“Sis.”

Tommy shrugged. “I guess I meant it to tease her the first couple times. She’s scary sometimes, but I like her. And she watches out for me. Did you know she’s said she doesn’t have many friends?”

“No.”

“We were talking about it before you and Da’ showed up. Sounds like she was lonely in the Vale.”

“Yes?”

“She didn’t say exactly, but I think she likes being here with us. With the troop I mean.”

“I think so, too.”

“Anyway, she’s been looking out for me since that first battle back in Resthaven, and she’s kept it up ever since. She’s always there, always around if I need her, and it reminds me of family. So, I started thinking of her like a big sister. ‘Sis’.” He shrugged.

“You know it’s the duty of the J’al’osil to guard mages.”

“You’ve said. But … I don’t know. She just seems like she’s doing more than just guard. I mean, stuff like teaching Da’ there. She wants me to stop saying it. Sis, I mean. I think it embarrasses her.”

“I don’t think she’s embarrassed, at least not entirely.” Tommy noticed Saress glancing their way. “And I told your taii I would think on it.” Saress’s ears flattened.

“Taii?”

“Taii means sister in elven. Taa means brother,” Ari mentioned. “Your father would be N’Taa,” she finished absently, turning to watch him train.

“Huh,” Tommy said, glancing her way.

Saress and his da’ were finishing up what they were doing, his da’ asking about something while he got down off the rocks. Saress’s ears were still slightly back, but she answered his questions readily enough while demonstrating something for him to try.

Tommy watched, but really didn’t hear a thing they said. He was still thinking about everything Ari and he had talked about; his da’, his mum, about what it meant to be a family. Eventually he turned, openly studying Ari until his mother looked his way.

“Ari?”

“Hmmmm?”

“Can I ask you question?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“How do you say ‘mother’ in elven?”

A soft look entered her eyes.

“N’Taii,” she replied.

“Thank you.” He nodded thinking about it, turning back to watch them train. Then he decided to try it out for himself, glancing again her way.

“Thank you … N’Taii.”

***

“You two have a good talk?” Donnor asked as he and Saress walked over. He could tell Ari was totally blown away by whatever her and Tommy had talked about. Her gobsmacked expression alone would have given it away, even without the cascade of feelings he was getting through the bond. He was pretty sure it had something to do with him, seeing as how distracted Saress had been, and she still had her ears halfway back now that he thought about it.

“Yeah, Da’.”

“Good. Let’s go take a look at that boat I found.”

“Sure.”

“You two want to come along?”

His ilari was still to stunned to speak, so Saress answered for them. “In a moment … Donnor.” Ari nodded, glancing his way.

“Well, don’t let whatever it was bother you too much. Head back up to the ch’ten if you need to, we’ll be here for a while.”

“Yes, Strike Leader.”

Donnor led Tommy over to the boat he’d found, still half in and out of the water. Tommy wandered around it, picking at a bit of char in the stern. He kept picking at it, eventually clearing the char away from the good wood underneath.

“What do you think?” he asked, watching Tommy.

“You know boats better than me.”

“Sure, but what do you think?”

“I think we’re lucky it didn’t sink. A little more and this would have burned through,” Tommy said, pointing to the worst of the damage.

“I agree, but it’s what we’ve got.”

Tommy grunted, climbing in. “No mast?” he asked, pointing towards the empty hole. There was a pin laying in the hull beside it.

“Broken off. I told Larn to take the broken one if he needed to. I sent him out to see if he could cut us a new one a while ago.”

Tommy nodded, standing and looking out at the other boats. “At least it’s not as big as ours. I don’t think we’ll have much luck floating a tree big enough for our old boat across the lake,” he said, looking towards the forest on the other side.

“Probably not. Keris and Saress told me there’re some woods north of the village. Can’t see much of them from here, but I’m hoping Larn has some luck there. Here, help me with this while we’re waiting,” Donnor said.

He pulled his knife and started scraping off the rest of the char. Tommy joined in, and the two of them started clearing away the damage in companionable silence. It reminded Donnor of home. Lakeside, he corrected, having thought of that as home for so long it was no longer important.

“Ari said you’re pretty sure Mum is dead,” Tommy said.

Donnor sighed. “Yeah. What we found up there convinced me.” He hooked a thumb back towards Silverlake. “That, and what Mikus has said.”

“How come?”

“The ondilaan didn’t leave.” He shrugged. “They stayed, waiting out those people instead of moving on and looking for easier … prey. That’s a lot of stubborn persistence. From what Mikus has said, those people were trapped down there for weeks, easy.

“Your mum’s scent would’ve left Lakeside, and she’d only left a few hours before they’d arrived. Her trail was fresh. If they were willing to wait as long as they did here, they wouldn’t have left Lakeside if there was any chance of getting more … food.”

He sighed. “They would have hunted her down, Tommy. And they would have followed her trail, along with anyone else’s whose scent left the village.” Donnor paused, worrying at a stubborn piece of char stuck to the hull.

He scraped at the damage a little bit longer than necessary before saying anything more. “I didn’t think they’d be that persistent,” Donnor whispered. “I thought she could get away. They’ve only ever raided around here,” he mumbled, offhandedly. “Never Lakeside ...”

Tommy gathered the growing pile of debris and tossed it over the side. His eyes welled, and a long period of silence passed between them before the tightness in his chest let up. Then, after a deep sigh, he cleared the rest of the char out of the boat.

His da’ squeezed his shoulder, both of them turning to look out over the lake. “I wish I could do more, Tommy, but I have to accept she’s dead.”

It was strange, his da’ admitting that Mum was dead. There’d always been a little bit of something else when they’d talked about it before. More ‘maybes’ in the conversation, and not just a final ‘I’m sure’.

And he felt guilty because he wasn’t that upset. He’d been easing into it for a while now; accepting she was dead. He’d already cried his tears, many times over the last few weeks, and he missed her. Gods, he missed her. No one would ever replace her, but it was almost a relief to admit she was dead. And he felt even more guilty for thinking that way.

“Should we float an offering?” Tommy asked while watching the lake.

“I’d like to when we get to Lakeside. We’re going back there, you know. Eventually.”

They moved to sit on the stones, looking out across Silverlake and the waves shimmering in the afternoon sun. “Think it’ll be like this?” Tommy asked, glancing towards the village.

“Gods, I hope not.”

“Think anything’s left?”

“Not really.”

“Why are we going then?”

“Beyond my spear and Mikus’s things?” Tommy nodded. “To make sure; for closure really. Part of what we were looking for in all those papers in Brookside was to see if anyone from further south made it out. We haven’t found a thing.”

“So, it’s really just us then.”

“Yep. And the people we took with us.”

“Ever wonder how they’re doing?” Tommy asked, throwing a rock out into the lake.

“Not really. Mrs. Greentree is probably cooking somewhere, being as sweet as pie to everyone like she normally is. Sella’s probably flirted her way through half the Hold by now. The other two are sitting in a corner somewhere, telling stories to anyone who’ll listen.” He thought for a time. “They’re safer there than we are.”

“You think?”

“Pretty sure. Nothing the ondilaan have could possibly penetrate Redtail’s walls, even that army we saw the other night. Lord Maorilan could close the gates and let them bash themselves to pieces trying to get in. And the Redtail Guard is well trained.”

“I’m glad they’re okay.”

“Me too.”

Tommy watched his da’ stare out over the lake. “Are we going to be okay?”

“I’m hoping. We’ll check on the villages like Lord Maorilan wants, then head back and find somewhere else to go.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Tommy threw another rock, there was a soft plunk as it hit the lake. “Will N’Taii come?”

Donnor looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “N’Taii, huh? I didn’t know you were learning elven.”

Tommy shrugged. “I’m not, really. We were talking about Saress and it came up.”

Donnor smiled and nodded. “Yes, your N’Taii will probably come. It’d be a bit difficult to keep her away.”

Tommy smiled, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, probably.” He turned, hearing some chatter drifting down from the village. By the tone it sounded like they were having fun at someone’s expense. He saw Keris throw his arms up at someone near the wagon and walk away.

Then he saw Ari, looking their way. She waved at them and he waved back, his da’ waving back at his side. His da’ had a special smile on his face, something Tommy had only ever seen him give Mum.

“Are you and Ari courting?”

Donnor saw his son blush with embarrassment. Guess it’s time, he thought, throwing a stone in the lake. “Technically, we already have.”

“Huh?”

“Before you were conceived, Ari and me exchanged vows. We did it half in jest; it was a ceremony she’d found in an old tome somewhere, but we already have. I guess you could say we were married that day.”

“Before you married Mum?”

“Yep, before Mum.”

“So, you and Ari are married?”

“Well, not really. Sort of promised to one another.”

“How come you never married?”

“Her father. Like she said, he’s a lord. I never met him; really never met anyone from her family besides a couple of maids. Turned out some of those maids were actually J’al’osil. You were there when she told me about that; remember when we were talking about it with Saress? In Resthaven before the fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“Yep, never knew they were guards.” His da’ chuckled, remembering something. “I teased a couple of them, flirted with one of them outrageously having fun with Ari, trying to make her jealous. They always came along whenever we went up to the Awyrllyn. Never crossed my mind they could be as deadly as Saress. Might not have flirted with that one if I’d known.”

“You go there often?” Tommy asked, remembering he’d said the Awyrllyn was another lake like this one.

“When we could. You were probably conceived there, you know.”

“Thanks. Not something I wanted to know.”

Donnor smirked. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.”

Tommy sat, looking out over the lake while the last vestiges of his heartache eased away. He hadn’t had a chance to sit and relax with his da’ in ages, and he was pretty sure the last time was before they’d left Resthaven.

He glanced back over his shoulder towards a strange noise. Larn and Ladig were dragging an already limbed tree towards them down from the village, Ari and Saress at their side.

“Hey, Da’? Looks like they found a mast.”

“Sure does.” Donnor stood, wiping his hands on his breeches.

They watched the group approach, some of the other members of the troop following them out of the village. He heard Mikus yell something to Keris he couldn’t quite make out, Keris raising his hand in acknowledgement.

“You going to marry her?” Tommy asked, watching his mother approach.

“Wasn’t really thinking about it. That far, I mean. We’re kind of worried about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. Worried about what you might think.”

Tommy thought about it while the group stopped for a moment to let Ladig reset his grip. Some of the others moved in to give Ladig a hand.

“I think N’Taii is all right, Da’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“It does, but I’ll tell you what I told her, it’s weird how easy it is. You and her … and her and I, I mean.” He paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I like her Da’.”

Donnor stopped and looked at his son, appraising him. “You sure?”

Tommy looked back, meeting his eyes. He still felt a whisper of guilt, and a little bitterness remained, but he thought about everyone who’d been hurt since the ondilaan came. Him, his da’, Mikus, Ari, and all the others who’d lost someone in the fighting. It hurt, by the lost gods it hurt, but who was he to hold them back? They were so obviously holding themselves back for him. Both of them willing to wait, willing to put themselves on hold, no matter how much they cared for one another. And they did it all for him.

I can’t let them down.

“I’m sure ...”

Then feeling as if what he had said wasn’t enough, he added the only thing that came to mind.

“… N’Taa.”

His da’ looked at him, and then nodded. Putting an arm around his shoulders, they stood there, watching the group approach.

“Thank you, Tomilanthus.”

Fixing the Boat

“You two finished sitting around?” Ari called out, teasing.

“Just waiting on you,” Donnor rejoined.

“We found something that might work, Commander,” Larn said.

“Well, let’s take a look at it and see if it fits. What are the rest of you up to?”

“We found some soap, Commander. Keris is sending us down in groups to wash up and clean our gear,” Canner said.

“Good idea. Head on over near the cliff, it’ll be out of the wind.”

“Sure, Commander,” Canner replied as he and the others walked away.

“What have you two been up to? Staring at the fish?” Ari asked.

“Actually, we were talking about you, Lady Saliantrea,” Donnor said, switching to elven. He stopped to look at the base of the tree Larn had brought, Saress’s ears perking forward with his words. “Seems someone learned a new word today ... likes using it.” Ari looked back and forth between him and Tommy, looking strangely apprehensive. “Seems he was wondering if we were courting, or maybe getting married. He didn’t realize that we basically already were. Had a couple of questions about that,” Donnor continued, a smile crossing his face.

“Tommy, think we can drill a hole for the pin here?” he asked, switching back to the common tongue and pointing to a place on the tree.

Ari looked back and forth between the two of them, looking even more apprehensive if that was even possible. Tommy gave him a questioning look before turning towards where he was pointing. Saress’s ears were all but quivering they were locked so hard on where Donnor was standing.

“I don’t know, Da’. There’s a knot there,” Tommy said, pointing towards it. “We should probably drill a little higher.”

Ari swallowed a few times. “And what did you tell him?”

“The truth,” Donnor replied. “We’ll need to make shims if we drill there; the base’ll be too narrow once we cut off the rest.”

“And what was that truth?”

“Yeah. But shims will work better than having the mast split around the knot.” Tommy moved to study the trunk a little more.

He glanced at Ari, smiling. “That we didn’t need to court since we’ve basically been promised to each other for years.”

“I don’t see any way around it, Da’. If we just drill through that knot and a gust hits, the mast will snap off at the base.”

“You already said that.” Ari frowned.

“Yup.” He turned to Tommy. “Guess we need to make shims then.”

Tommy got up and walked over to the boat, inspecting the mount for the mast. “Look here, Da’. The mounting block has a crack in it. It’s tiny, but it’s still there.” Tommy looked up at him. “So, wrap the mounting block with rope to reinforce it, cut that knot out of the new mast and removed everything below it. Drill a new hole, make a pin, then use shims to wedge it in place.”

“What did he say?”

He could tell Ari was forcing herself to keep her tone light, and he grinned when he caught her eyes flaring with impatience. “I think you’re right Tommy. I’m impressed.”

“I had a good teacher,” Tommy smiled.

“Heh.”

“Donnor, what did he say?” she insisted.

“Okay, Larn. Take that big axe of yours and cut the bottom of this tree off about here. Try and make it as straight as possible so the mast lays flat against the bottom of the boat when we get it in place.”

“Sure thing, Commander.”

“Ilari, what did he say?” Ari pleasantly demanded. She casually draped her hand across his shoulder, clenching it hard.

Donnor chuckled, enjoying being able to tease her a bit. She glanced towards Tommy, but only for a second. His ilari was a pillar of anxiety, completely focused on him.

He stood and put one arm around her before pulling her to her feet, then walked with her towards the boat. Larn and Ladig followed along, dragging the mast behind them.

“Seems he likes you … N’Taii.” He smirked. “And he told me something else.”

“What!”

“I’m pretty sure he gave us permission.”

“He what!” She gasped.

“And he called me N’Taa, too.”

“Okay,” Tommy said from inside the boat. “I’ve heard at least three or four words I understand now. You can stop talking about me.”

Donnor chuckled. “We’re not talking about you. I’m telling her what we were talking about.” Ari looked back and forth between the two of them, wiping her eye.

“Oh. That’s okay then.” Tommy bent back down, teaching Larn how to cut the mast’s base the best way.

Donnor had always been surprised with how quickly Tommy picked up on how things worked, and he was watching his son with pride now. He was teaching Larn how to use his axe to plane off the section they didn’t need. He really has grown a lot since we’ve left Lakeside, he thought.

Ari was leaning on Donnor while stroking her braid in both hands, occasionally wiping a tear from her eye. Her mind was spinning in circles from what he could tell, and he decided to leave her to it. It wasn’t often she was brought to the point of speechlessness, and she’d been worried sick about what Tommy would think. He’d tried to tell her it would work itself out in the end but she didn’t believe him, and she’d been tying herself in knots for days. He couldn’t help it, he chuckled.

“Oh, shut up,” she said.

“What did I do?”

“I can hear you thinking from down here,” she said, frowning up at him.

“Huh?”

“It’s not nice to gloat.”

“Hey, Da’? Come over here and take a look at this. I’m worried it might be a little too short.”

“Excuse me, Lady Saliantrea.” He bowed formally, flourishing his arms as if they were in the council chambers in Sirikii, before the Wi’Jitikiin themselves.

Ari huffed while Saress tittered. “He got you there, Nisa Saliantrea.”

“You shut up too, taii.”

Saress shut up.

***

They spent the rest of the afternoon getting the new mast fitted, making sure it was right before they finished mounting it. It was a long process, involving removing the excess wood in stages before placing it back in its mount to see if any more refinements needed to be made.

Donnor let Tommy lead the fitting, giving him the opportunity to take charge. Tommy’d helped with fitting new masts back in Lakeside, much more often than he’d ever done. They’d always let the boys help out if a boat needed repaired, learning the how’s and why’s of it from the boat’s owner, and Tommy looked like he was leading this fitting just fine. A few of the people who’d finished washing up and cleaning their gear wandered over to help, holding the mast in place while Tommy and Larn inspected it in its mount. Meeting their approval, they removed the mast and laid it down by the boat’s side.

“I think it’s ready, Da’. We need to make some shims, tie the guides on for the lines, then find some rope to reinforce the base … but that’s it. Are you thinking about making a boom?”

“No, it’s too small. I figure we’ll rig it like one of the skiffs.”

“That’ll get in the way of the net. All the lines, I mean.”

“Yeah, but it’s what we have to work with. The only cloth I’ve found for a sail is that torn piece of roof over there on the pavilion. We’ll have to mend it, but it should be big enough.”

Tommy sighed.

“You worry about the mast. Drill the hole, tie the stays, wrap the mount … all that. I’m going to bring down the net and the extra line, then start working on mending our sail. Maybe string a few lines to fish from shore. That smoking rack might be done, too, now that I think about it.”

“You got it, Da’. I’m going to go wash up first.”

“No problem. Larn, you and Ladig might as well go with him. Either of you know knots and ropes?”

“No, Commander,” they both answered.

“Then this next part is something you can’t do. Go clean up, I’ll let Mikus and Keris know where you are. You can check in with them when you’re done.”

“You got it, Commander,” Ladig said, the three of them wandering off towards where the others were washing while chatting about what they had done.

Donnor walked back to the village, noticing a rough screen had been erected around where the people were bathing. It didn’t provide much privacy, barely any at all since it had been cobbled together from debris and scraps of cloth, but Deya and Feya’s heads were in the water with the screen separating them from the male members of the troop. Everyone was chatting while taking their baths, scrubbing the dirt and blood off their equipment.

Tonat chittered a welcome as he approached, Keris’s head perked up with the sound. “Hi, Donnor. You finished with the mast?”

“Cutting and rough fitting it, yes. Now we have to attach all the lines and mount it. Still more work to be done.”

“At least it’s getting there.”

“Yep. What’s going on up here? I noticed people bathing.”

“Martok found what was probably a chandler’s house that had some soap and candles underneath the wreckage. It’s rough stuff, mostly tallow, and it looks like the ondilaan were trying to figure out how to eat it, but it’s still soap. I figured since there’s nothing really going on up here, we might as well use it and get clean.”

“Good call. The watches report anything?”

“No. Nothing but the correts that’ve been following us. They’re over by the hill looking at us every now and then over the rise. The lead one wandered close to that pen we have our animals in, but they run away whenever anyone comes close.”

“Got any patrols out?”

“No. Mikus and I talked about it. I can’t be sure after the Lady’s magic, but I’m only counting one female in the pit. The number of warriors down there doesn’t match up with what three females should have. It’s making me nervous,” he admitted.

“The problem is, there’re no tracks,” he continued. “So where did they go? We don’t have enough people to find out without risking a patrol getting overwhelmed, so I’m having everyone reinforce their positions up here. Digging shallow trenches, erecting simple barriers, that kind of thing. But, there’s not much left for us to use,” Keris said, waving a hand towards the village.

“With the ch’ten out hunting, I figure we have at least somebody out there wandering around. But I don’t like not having patrols.”

Donnor frowned and then walked over to the edge of the village, studying the plain beyond. Keris followed along behind, the two of them looking out from atop the rise.

“All we need right now is to be attacked while the survivors can’t be moved,” Donnor muttered. “I guess it’ll have to do ...

“Keris, that pile of bones back on the road reminds me of orc territory markers I saw near the Vale. If it is, it’ll be a while before any ondilaan come this way. If a group of females and warriors did get away, it’ll take time for them to get help and come back here. With most of us either up here or down by the lake, we’re set up along the most likely avenue of approach. And you’ve said you’re setting up defenses, so I can’t think of anything else to do beyond what we’re doing.”

“That’s the same thing Mikus said. He’s back down in the hole with Karn and Turred by the way.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. They say why?”

“Looking at the stone. He said they’re trying to figure out if they can explore any more of the collapsed tunnels; maybe clear them out. There are a lot of ondilaan tracks down there, so they’re trying to see if they missed anything. I don’t think they’re having much luck.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t understand dwarvish, but I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of swearing going on.” Keris grinned.

Donnor chuckled. “That’s pretty much standard for dwarves.”

“Yep.”

“Ari with the wounded?”

“Yeah. She and Saress wandered up a while ago and she’s been healing ever since. She’s got Immer’s two back on their feet then took a break, so the archers are back up to full strength. And she said if she didn’t see you first, to tell you she’ll need Tommy for the rest of the day if you want anyone else on their feet. She’s over doing something with the survivors now.”

“They still unconscious?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it can wait. I’m going to go grab someone to help me take the net down, then try and rig some lines to start fishing from shore. Did Mikus ever get that smoking rack finished?”

“Yep. It’s over there.”

“Good. Get someone to bring it down when you get a chance.”

“You got it, Commander.”

Donnor took one last look out over the terrain, then had Nalin help him fold the net. They took their time taking it, and the extra line, back down to shore, a couple of people following them down to take their turn to wash up. Tommy was using his knife to clean the edges of the hole he’d drilled in the mast when he got there, and Donnor told Nalin to head over to wash up after they set the net down by the boat. “What’d you use to drill the hole?” Donnor asked.

“A knife,” Tommy said, raising it up. “And what a pain in the butt it was, too.”

“Well, at least it’s done.”

Tommy nodded, returning to what he was doing. “When are you going to wash up? No offense, but you still have dried blood all over you ... you stink.”

“I can’t smell it. You only notice it because you’re clean. It’s like after we cleaned our catch back home. We didn’t notice it, but your mum sure did.”

“There is that.”

“Need anything?”

“Rope.”

“Use what we have in the wagon, anything we find here is probably too damaged or weak. Bring down some thread and a needle off the wagon while you’re at it. I’ll need them to fix the sail after I rig us some lines.”

“Sure, Da’.”

Tommy wandered back up to the village while Donnor took down the roof of the pavilion. The tear wasn’t as bad as he thought, so after carefully folding it, he got it back to the boat by the time Tommy returned. Then he went back and rooted around for hooks before realizing he’d taken them up to the wagon. Sighing, he wandered back up, smiling towards the splash battle currently underway. It looked like Larn was winning.

“Tonat asks if you are having problems staying away,” Dap translated.

“I forgot I brought the hooks up here,” Donnor replied.

“She says to be careful you don’t forget your head.”

Donnor chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.”

Tonat smiled, busily grinding up the plants and herbs she’d found. She was arranging them in neat piles by an assortment of tiny pouches and vials he’d never seen before, and she stopped every now and then to ladle out the meal she’d prepared whenever anyone came up and asked.

He found the chest with what he needed, gathered the hooks, and took them back down to the boat. Then he pushed their tips into the gunnel, counting as he went. Thirty-two … not bad.

He started cutting the line they had left over from mending the net into lengths roughly twice the length of the boat, but only ended up having enough line for thirteen hooks before he ran out. Oh well.

“Have enough line?” Tommy asked.

Donnor looked up, seeing Ari and Saress with him. “Hi Saress, Ilari. Nope, only enough for thirteen. You done healing for the day?”

“I did what I could,” Ari replied. “I need Tommy to do any more since you and Saress won’t let me to tire myself out.”

“She tried?” he asked Saress.

“You doubt?” Saress asked, eyeing her charge.

Ari sighed, giving Saress a mock glare. “Yes, I tried. And someone had a few choice words about it, too.” Saress smirked.

“Thank you, Saress.” Donnor grinned.

“You are welcome.”

“Anyway, Tommy said you were going to mend the sail. No offense, Donnor, but your sewing isn’t very good. Since someone won’t let me heal anymore, I can do that for you so you can get something else done.” Ari smiled.

“It’s a bit different than embroidery. Do you know the stitch?”

“Not if there’s a specific one, no.”

“There is. Saress, have you ever made shore rigs?”

“No.”

“Mind helping?” Saress shook her head. “Thanks. Tommy, teach her how to rig the lines then start in on the mast.”

“Sure, Da’.”

“Ari, let’s teach you the stitch,” Donnor said, moving over to where the cloth and the net were.

Tommy grabbed a hook and one of the lines he’d cut, then started teaching Saress a simple knot to go around the shank of the hook. The hooks they’d found had simple flattened ends that prevented a properly tied line from falling off, and Tommy was teaching her the first knot he’d ever learned. His expertise was obvious as he taught her, and her nimble fingers picked up on how to tie the knot easily enough.

She said something about the knot being similar to one she used to bind two wooden handles together. Tommy asked what she used it for, correcting her when she tried to form a loop where it wasn’t needed. She went on to describe how two wooden handles attached with a knot like this one was a good way to make a tool to silently strangle someone, absently describing how you used it to cut off someone’s ability to breathe so they couldn’t cry out for help while you took them down. The whole time Saress was speaking she was totally oblivious to her audience, completely focused on tying the hook on the line.

Tommy stared at her until she met his eyes. “You are really scary sometimes, sis.” Then he shook himself and returned to his instruction. Saress glanced Ari’s way, ears half back and looking a little embarrassed.

Donnor grinned and turned towards Ari. “I’m going to teach you a sailmakers stitch. I don’t know if it’s anything like you’ve used before, but it strengthens the tear. When you’re done, it allows the sail to give without ripping, while it bulges in the breeze. Let me loop the thread a couple times through the end of the tear to reinforce it, and then I’ll teach you the knot.”

“They’re really good with each other,” Ari said, watching Tommy and Saress.

“Yep.”

“Has he been calling her sis for a while now?”

“First I heard of it was after we left Resthaven.”

“You think they’re really like that?”

“Like what?”

“Brother and sister?”

Donnor stopped and looked at her, then towards Tommy and Saress. Tommy was trying to show her another knot and was having problems picking the line off the ground. What he didn’t know was that Saress was pulling ever so slightly on the other end, making him miss it whenever he tried to pick it up.

“They certainly harass each other like brother and sister,” Donnor said, turning to reinforce the tear. He grinned when Tommy finally caught on and poked her in the ribs. Saress arched one eyebrow, looking suddenly threatening, before grinning and poking him back.

“I think so to,” Ari said, a soft look on her face.

“Okay, reinforced. Watch what I do. Take the needle down through the top of the cloth on one side, like this. Then bring it underneath and loop it around that side of the tear. Once that’s done, pass the needle up through the loop and draw it tight. But don’t pinch or bunch up the cloth, it’ll cause problems when the sail is full if you do. Just like this. See?”

“Yes.”

“Now, take the needle and do the other side the same way, moving about half the width of your finger up the tear as you go. And make sure the edges of the tear touch each other before you move on.

“Basically, you’re knotting one side, moving up a bit, then knotting the other side, repeating it all the way up the tear to the end. Once you get to the end, reinforce the end with thread like I did when I started.”

“That’s simple enough. Reminds me of an embroidery stitch.”

“I wouldn’t know. Give it a try,” Donnor said, passing off the needle and thread. He watched her stitch the next few, only needing to offer an occasional correction. “You’re good at this.”

“You’re a good teacher. Besides, I didn’t take over as seamstress back in Lakeside without knowing how to sew.” She continued for a while, seeming to enjoy herself. “You know it’s very awkward for her with Tommy calling her ‘sis’?”

“How’s that?”

“Saying it openly like he is, it’s basically a declaration of adoption in the Vale.”

“Seriously?”

Ari nodded. “And saying it in my presence, me being his mother, is basically asking me to adopt her into the family. He has no idea, but Saress does. She’s very embarrassed.”

“Why would she be embarrassed?”

“Because of the differences in our families.”

“You know I never really lived elven culture. Explain it to me.”

“Do you remember when I said families are important?”

“Yeah?”

“And you know my father is Wi’Jitikiin?” He nodded. “Well, that makes my family what you’d consider a ranking family in the kingdom.”

“Yeah, I’d figured out that much. Make the next stitch a bit closer, they’re getting too far apart.”

“That’s going to use up a lot of thread.”

“You have to. If you space them out to far, a breeze will just rip the stitches out when the sail is full.”

“Okay …” she said, eyeing the remaining thread. “Anyway, with Saress being Nu’Surledyn, she most likely lost her family name. She said her mother left the Vale to stay with her father in Askiland, and that probably has to do with pressure from her mother’s family for mating a non-elf. That, and giving birth to a half-blood child. Not having the protection of a family name doesn’t make Saress an outcast, but it does make her life it harder.”

“Seems harsh.” He noticed Saress’s ear cocked their way.

“It is. And that’s probably why she agreed to become Tintafel’s ward. He was considering adopting her into his family, offering her the protection of his family’s name. For someone of impure blood, that’s incredibly important.”

“Impure blood?”

“That’s how children of mixed races are called by some of the families. There are families that still do, and they kill half-blooded children at birth.”

“That’s crap.”

“There aren’t a lot of elves, Ilari. Only elves can beget elves.”

“It’s still crap.”

“I agree. Unfortunately, that mindset has evolved over many millennia, ever since the elves came to be. Being able to have children to continue the family line is paramount in the Vale. More so to some, than others.”

“Still, it’s not her fault for being born.”

“No, it’s not, and her family realized this when they allowed life to be given a chance. But in the Vale, not being born an elf is seen as a deficiency. My father is one who feels this way.”

Donnor noticed Tommy and Saress were both quiet, and Tommy glancing their way from time to time. “I always hated that. That mindset, I mean. No one is ‘deficient’ just because of who they are. There’s a lot of that kind of bigotry where I’m from,” he said without thinking. “It makes me furious just thinking about it.”

“Yes?” Ari asked, raising an eyebrow and sounding hopeful.

“Never mind. No, I’m not going to tell you where I’m from. It’s not important.” Ari frowned. “Anyway, what does that have to do with her being embarrassed? It’s not like we’re that way. I could care less.”

“Well, Tomilanthus is eighteen; three sixes. You remember the elves count by six?” Donnor nodded. “Well, he’s old enough to be formally presented before the head of the family. If accepted, he would be considered officially part of family Saliantrea, and entered into the family rolls. After that, he’d have the same rights, responsibilities, and protections as any other member of the family when he reached adulthood which he already has. My father would never agree; he’d probably have a fit now that I think about it. But Tommy is old enough to carry on the family name.”

“Huh.”

“Since Tommy has survived to his third six, I’m considered head of my part of the family as well. My line or sept within family Saliantrea, if you will.”

“So?”

“I’m head of my part of family Saliantrea, and Tommy has survived to reach adulthood and can carry on the family name. I won’t refuse to recognize him.” She smiled. “So, in essence, he’s an acknowledged adult member of my family making a request of family’s head.”

“So? So what?”

“Donnor, all I’d have to do is say ‘yes’. There’s nothing anyone in the Vale could say. I’ve carried on the family name, and fulfilled my duty to the Vale. Internal family matters are sacrosanct.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Well, no. I would have to present you to my father, declare Tomilanthus as our child and then provide proof. That wouldn’t be hard, you just have to look at the three of to see that.” She smiled.

“My father would … well … it wouldn’t be pretty. I’m certain he would be apoplectic. But no matter what he said, I could petition the full council of the Wi’Jitikiin, and tradition dictates they would enter you and Tommy into the roles of the Vale.

“Depending on how upset my father was, he might try and strip me of my name and rank within Saliantrea, and more than likely he would succeed. But I really don’t care about that; it’s not like he needs me for anything. I do love him, he is my father after all, but I’ll never forgive him for what he’s done to the two of you.”

Tommy and Saress had stopped even pretending to work. “You would give up your family for me?” Tommy asked, stunned.

“Nisa Saliantrea …” Saress began, but stopped herself, her ears flat against her skull.

“Tomilanthus, my family is here,” Ari said. “I could always take another name … if a certain person would tell me what their name is.” She gave Donnor a mock glare.

“But Nisa Saliantrea, to give up being a Saliantrea? A child of the Wi’Jitikiin? Are you sure?”

“Saress, it’s not like I’m heir to the family. Yes, I am my father’s only child. Yes, I am a child of the Wi’Jitikiin. Yes, I am the last in his direct line by blood. But I am only one of many who bears the name Saliantrea; my cousins bear it as well.

“It hasn’t been done by one of the great families in centuries, but the head of the family can choose anyone who bears the family name to be their heir. Just like it is done in every other family in the Vale.

“My father has already proven life flows through him; he’s had me. He would have to swallow his damnable pride, admitting his personal line is finished, but family Saliantrea would go on. One of his grandnephews has a child I think, so the Saliantrea family line could be tracked unbroken back from my grandfather through my aunt if anyone took an issue with it.

“But none of that matters. Being a child of the Wi’Jitikiin is a meaningless honor, Saress. To sit in the Vale, attend meetings, manage the family estate … only to associate with those of ‘proper station’? Stuck again in a gilded cage? Never being free?” Ari shuddered. “No. There are others much better suited to that than me.

“And my father was very clear ...” Ari all but sneered. “I am ‘soiled’ in his eyes.”

“Because of me?” Tommy asked.

“Because of us both,” Donnor answered.

Ari glanced their way. “It doesn’t matter. I made my choice. I left the Vale for the both of you, and I have no intention of going back. It may have been more comfortable back in the Vale, but I have never felt as free as I do now. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Donnor put his arm around her, kissing the top of her head. “Yandun.”

“Yandun,” she replied.

“What does that mean?” Tommy asked after a moment.

“It means ‘forever’, Tomilanthus. It was part of our vows.” Ari turned after smiling at Donnor. “And maybe I should introduce you to another word, as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Taa’ni. It means ‘son’.” Both Ari and his da’ smiled his way.

Tommy tried it out a few times, tasting how the word sounded on his tongue. Saress openly watched them before ducking her head and looking up at Tommy through her lashes, a fervent look on her face.

“This is a great honor, Tomilanthus. To be declared taa’ni in public before those who could bear witness is something only done when acknowledging that person as a member of their family.”

“So?”

Saress nodded, acknowledging he didn’t understand. “This is something I will never experience, being Nu’Surledyn and not from one of the great families. For a fully blooded elf, Tomilanthus, today would be a great day in the Vale, full of celebration and feasting.

“Family Saliantrea would bear witness to a new member being accepted into their line. The entire family would be present, and anyone else in the Vale who would want to come. The celebration would have been announced months ago, and the fact that you are a child of the Wi’Jitikiin would only add to its grandeur. Your mother honors you greatly this day.”

Saress lowered her eyes then planted her hands on the ground beside her, bowing slightly towards Arisaylia. “Thank you, Nisa Saliantrea, for allowing me, a Nu’Surledyn, to bear witness. May the life in your line be forever strong.”

Then Saress made a strange gesture before bowing once more. “Let it be known.” She lowered her eyes.

“I think I like her, Ilari,” Donnor said, pushing his feelings on the matter through the bond.

“I think I do, too,” Ari smiled, in complete agreement. They both looked towards Saress, expectantly.

“What? What are you two thinking?” Saress asked, suddenly on guard.

“Oh, nothing,” Donnor said.

“Nothing at all,” Arisaylia agreed.

“Why are you looking at me that way?”

“No reason …” Ari smiled. “… Taii’ni”

Saress’s ears plastered themselves against her skull, eyes wide with both surprise and shock.

“Taii’ni?” Tommy asked.

“Yes, Tomilanthus. ‘Taii’ni’. I would like you to meet my adopted daughter, your Taii, your sister. Saress a’Saliantrea, that is, if she will agree.

“Saress? Will you become one of my sept within Saliantrea? Adopted by a child of the Wi’Jitikiin? Sister to Tomilanthus? Daughter of Donnor, my Ilari and chosen mate? To combine your life with our own until you chose to depart for your soul’s rest?”

Saress was pale with eyes the size of dinner plates, ears plastered against the sides of her skull. She gaped and then shook herself, making another gesture with her hands almost reverently. “Nisa Saliantrea …” she said, before prostrating herself on the ground before her.

“No, Saress. Not that, and not to me,” Ari objected, her voice low but firm. “Rise J’al’osil Saress, Nu’Surledyn. Give me your answer before life and the Wi’Jitikiin.”

Saress glanced up. “I … Nisa Saliantrea …” She swallowed. “I … J’al’osil Saress, with no family name of my own … accept ... before life and the Wi’Jitikiin.” Then she abased herself once more.

“It is done,” Ari proclaimed. Then she made a curiously formal gesture with one hand, waiting until Saress saw it before speaking once more. “Let it be known,” she concluded, Donnor feeling a bitter amusement through the bond

Saress swallowed hard, searching Ari’s eyes for long moments before making another gesture in return. Then she lowered her eyes, before bowing deeply once more.

“Yes … N’Taii.”

Tommy looked back and forth between Ari and Saress, not understanding the depth of what he was seeing. Ari sat within his da’s arms, both pleased and somehow annoyed? frustrated? by what he could feel from her Tol. Her Tol was radiating off of her in waves for some reason, even though she wasn’t actively doing a working. And Saress looked like she’d forgotten how to breathe, stunned into immobility with tears in her eyes. He’d never seen anything like it, and the moment seemed too formal. Saress needed cheered up.

“Well, I guess you’re stuck with me, sis.”

Saress glanced his way.

“I can say that all the time now you know, sis,” Tommy continued.

Saress frowned.

“Or should I say, Taii.”

Saress pinched her lips.

“You can’t even tell me to stop because it’s true.”

“Young mage?”

“Yeah, sis?” Tommy paused, thinking about it. “Taii … Sis … Which one do you like better?” he asked. Ari covered her mouth with one hand.

“By life itself Tomilanthus …”

“I think I like sis better,” Tommy continued. Donnor grinned.

“… will you please shut up.”

Into the Moonlight

Day 224 – We spent the day in what was left of Silverlake, cleaning up then fixing up one of the boats. I’m glad I remembered everything I needed to do because the boat’s a wreck. Oh, and we found a bunch of survivors, too. Ari and me are spending a lot of time healing them. I guess I should call her N’Taii now, and boy did she surprise Saress. It was funny seeing that, and after she …

Saress collected her wits in short order, returning to tying hooks onto lines. She still looked shaken though, continuing to glance at Ari and him while she worked. Even Tommy picked up on it, limiting his teasing until she calmed down enough to quip back. But eventually the mood returned to where it had been, Tommy and Saress moving off to start on the mast.

Donnor sat with Ari for a while in the afternoon sun, making sure she had the sailmaker’s stitch down. Then he wandered down the shore on the premise of finding a tree to cut a pole and rudder from. But even though he actually did need those things, he really just wanted a moment to think.

Crazy how that just happened. Instant family; just add Saress, he thought, looking back at them. It’s strange having a family again.

He shook his head and continued walking away, his eyes on the approaching trees. They were growing along the edge of the lake, right up against the rise they’d crossed on their way in. Entering the grove, he wandered among them before finding two that would fit his needs.

I should feel guilty, he thought, thinking about Yella. Feels right, though. He shrugged, glancing back and studying them for a while. Tommy and Saress were working on the mast while Ari smiled and sewed. Then feeling strangely at peace with himself, he chopped down the two young trees and dragged them back to the boat.

He sat and started stripping the bark, shaping the end of one of them into something more usable. Tommy and Saress finished what they were doing and disappeared to find some wood to make stakes out of, Tommy describing how they were going to be used to fish from shore. Saress still looked half stunned from what he could see, Tommy teasing her about something while they walked away.

“I never imagined myself a fisherman’s wife,” Ari remarked.

“No?” He smiled.

“No. Not quite up to my standards.”

“Good thing we’re not married then.”

Ari laughed, looking towards the sun which was beginning to set. “How much more are you trying to accomplish today?”

“Not much. We’ve gotten a lot done as it is.” He glanced towards the bathing area. “And, it’s given everyone a chance to relax while we’ve been working on this.”

“Are you worried about something?”

“Nothing more than usual. We’re not soldiers, the troop I mean. We’re becoming that way, but we’re really just farmers for the most part. Our people have been in more battles than most soldiers are over the course of their careers.” He paused, listening to their laughter. “A chance for them to relax like this is a gift.”

“You’re good for them.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, seeing her smile softly in return. “So, what do I do with a daughter?”

Ari laughed. “You should have thought about that before you gave me ideas.”

“Well, I had this beautiful elven princess with these big, pretty eyes clouding my mind … it was kinda hard to think.”

“Hmmmm. What do you want?” Ari grinned.

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple of things come to mind.”

“Mmmm-hmmm. I bet they do.”

“Do you blame me?”

She pinched her lips together, fighting a smile. “What’s going through that mind of yours, I wonder?”

“Oh, you know .... nice big lake, not many people around, sun going down ...” He glanced her way, grinning. “You know … things.”

“Things, huh?”

“Yep, things. Man’s gotta think about things every now and then.”

Ari laughed. “I remember you used to think about ‘things’ quite a bit.”

“You never seemed to mind.”

Ari’s eyes were dancing with mirth. “Such a shame you’re a family man now. So many responsibilities tying up your time ... Whatever shall you do?”

He shook his head mournfully. “I don’t know. A man’s life is hard sometimes. Good thing I found this nice lady to help me out.”

Ari made a big production out of looking around, grinning all the while. “Look at that. No nice ladies anywhere. Your life is getting harder and harder by the minute, Ilari.”

Donnor laughed. “That’s cold. Still can’t help thinking about that lake though.” He grinned, nodding towards the lake.

“Mmmm-hmmm. Somehow, I think you’ll get by.” Ari turned away, eyes filled with laughter.

“Ouch, fine. So anyway, a daughter,” he prompted. “What do I need to know about a daughter since you’re already surprising me with more kids.”

Ari laughed, covering her mouth and glancing his way. Then she returned to not looking at him, grinning even more when he poked at her through the bond.

“Nothing. Stop that! Seriously, nothing at all. Not as we are, anyway. We do what all families do, offer home and comfort, support when needed, a place of safety to stay … You know, a family.”

“Guess that’s easy enough.”

“As I said, there’s nothing really for us to do.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“Because Tommy was right, she really does act like an older sister. And she’s been helping him and us so much, much more than is required by her position. There’s really nothing else I can do for her.” Ari bit off the end of her string and shrugged. “I wanted to show her how much she means to me … to us.”

He chuckled. “I’d say she got it.”

“I’d say so, too.” Ari grinned.

“What was with all the gestures and bowing?”

“You don’t know?”

“I speak the language, Ilari. I never lived the culture.”

“I keep forgetting,” she said, close to being done mending the sail. “You speak it like you were born to it. I always forget how formal you were that first day I met you.”

“You were pretty frustrated as I remember, trying to fish.”

“Life, don’t remind me.”

“Cute, though. That’s the first day we ended up doing something on a lake, now that I think about it.” She rolled her eyes, grinning. “After that we went there all the time ... What is it with you and lakes?” She pointedly didn’t answer, a little color coming to her cheeks. He laughed when she refused to look at him, and sent another poke her way. “Anyway, what’s with the gestures?”

She glanced at him, taking in his unrepentant smile. Sticking her tongue out at him, she wrinkled her nose before continuing. “This one is for obedience to the Wi’Jitikiin, you cad. People use it when speaking to my father or any of the other lords. It’s like bowing or saluting. Similar at least … but there’s more to it than that. Anyway, people use it when addressing any family member of the Wi’Jitikiin.”

“And the other one? This one?” He tried to recreate the gesture.

Ari giggled, covering her mouth. “Ummm, no. Like this,” she said, touching her pinky to her thumb while clustering her other three fingers together.

He copied her, looking back and forth between their hands. “Why’d you giggle?” he asked once he was certain he’d got it.

“Well, let’s just say we’d have given Saress another shock if she’d seen that.”

“Why’s that?”

“Never you mind.” She grinned, eyes dancing. “Anyway, the signs are part of the lan’donin.”

“The silent tongue? Don’t you mean Lar’an do na’nin?”

“There you go being formal again. It hasn’t been called that outside of the council’s chambers for generations. Where’d you hear that?”

“Around the mage college, waiting for you.”

“It’s funny thinking about you standing there, waiting for me by the gates. Completely fluent, understanding every single thing being said around you.”

“Yeah. Some of it wasn’t very flattering.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, why’d you make the other one?”

“Why’d I make the other what?”

“The other gesture. Why’d you do it? I could tell it bothered you.”

“It’s a gesture of command; the mark of an order from one of the Wi’Jitikiin.” He could feel bitterness oozing through the bond. “It’s what my father did when making an official edict.”

“Why does it bother you?”

“Once it’s made, there’s no refusing it.”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“I wanted her to know how serious I was. She really does mean that much to me,” Ari said, the bitterness still loud and clear through the bond.

He studied her, questioning her with his eyes.

“I am not a despot, Ilari. I don’t like making decrees.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain why it bothers you so much.”

“My father uses it, and used it a lot. Especially when we were separated.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. Anyway, only the lords and their acknowledged heirs can use it. From me it’s meaningless unless my father approves, since I’m not his heir.”

He studied her, sensing her bitter frustration before turning back to what he was doing. He noticed Tommy and Saress walking back towards them with a bundle of sticks in their hands. “Welp, I guess you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

“Get used to what?”

“Giving orders.”

“Probably not.”

“Well, you said you’re the head of the family now, so I guess that means you’re in charge. Gotta get used to giving orders if you’re going to be in charge, princess.”

“Oh, please.”

“Yep, have to get used to it. I might be willing to let you give me a few orders. You know … for practice. Kind of like weaning you into it.” He grinned.

“I know how to give you orders just fine, Ilari.”

“I don’t know, it’s kinda hard to get people to do what you want, if you don’t know what you’re doing,” he teased. “Gotta practice.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I can figure it out.” She grinned. “I can get you to do anything I want to without the slightest bit of practice.”

“That sure, are you?”

“Yep. I can think of more than one way to wrap you around my little finger.”

“Huh. Once you do that, what will you do with me?”

“Any little thing I want,” she teased.

He laughed. “Then the fun will be making you work for it.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Well, I can’t let it be too easy. If you end up wrapping me around that little finger too soon, you’ll think you know everything. Get a swelled head, and all that. Nope, gotta make sure you work for it before you get anything out of me. Practice, practice, practice, princess.”

“Idiot.” She grinned as Tommy and Saress arrived.

***

They worked a little while longer keeping quiet company, teasing and joking amongst themselves. Ari finished mending the sail as the sun began to set, Donnor completing the boat pole he’d been making.

Tommy and Saress whittled stakes and tied the lines to them, then baited the hooks with the grubs and worms they’d found along shore. Tommy discovered the bark Donnor had stripped off the trees would float, so he fashioned little bobbers to keep the hooks off the bottom. Then he and Saress floated the lines out, having to wade out a bit to get them past the waves.

The last of the bathers were walking their way back to camp and talking amongst themselves when the ch’ten returned. It looked like their hunt had gone well, the little girl smiling as they headed back up the hill with a few braces of birds. And Tommy and Saress had just finished reinforcing the mount for the mast when Mikus came down looking for them.

“Any issues, old man?”

“No. Tha’ sprites are back an’ say they been wanderin’ all around. Ahton says he’s no’ seein’ any signs o’ tha’ ondilaan. We’re alone fer’ leagues, he figures. It be a good thing, havin’ tha’ confirmed.”

“Very.”

“It’s drivin’ Keris batty, though. Him an’ his count.” Mikus grinned. “Ya’ gonna’ come back up? Rast says Tonat be ready fer’ dinner. She’s cleanin’ a whole host o’ fowl the ch’ten brought back wi’ ‘em.”

“No, I only have a bit left to do. Ari, go ahead and go get something to eat. You might as well take Tommy and Saress with you, I can finish up here. I want to finish with the mast, tie on the last of the leads, that sort of thing.”

“You’re not going to eat?” Ari asked.

“Maybe later. I want to get this done so we can start fishing in the morning,” he said, nodding towards the setting sun. The sky was a beautiful shade of red and orange, the twin moons just beginning to rise on the horizon.

“No problem, Ilari. Don’t be long,” she said as she walked away, the rest following her up the hill.

He watched them leave; his new family, Mikus included. Ari was speaking with Mikus while glancing back his way from time to time, sending her love through the bond. Tommy was talking to Saress about fishing by the way his hands were moving, getting into whatever he was saying. But she didn’t look like she was paying much attention, having taken back up her role in guarding them all.

Donnor grinned and got back to work, returning to wrapping the rest of the rope around the mast to reinforce its base. He used a makeshift spike to splice the ends, then whittled a shallow notch in the top of the mast to use as a guide. There he fixed an eye splice to hoist the sail, then worrying it wouldn’t hold, wrapped the mast below it with more rope to fix the splice in place.

Moving on to the sail, he spread it out on the ground thinking about how to attach it to the mast. There was no way he could make grommets, and the cloth was too thin to cut eyelets into that would hold. He thought about it while scratching his chin, then noticed Itak standing a few paces away. He nodded towards the sprite while coming to the conclusion he couldn’t do it any normal way, so he decided to improvise.

He gathered some stones and placed them evenly along the edge of the cloth closest to the mast. Then wrapping the line around both the cloth and the rocks, Donnor tied it so the cloth formed pouches around the rocks. The rock-filled pouches then became where he attached the lines to, and he spent the next while forming loops of rope around the mast that he tied the pouches to. Then he finished by tying the rest of the rope to the top of the sail. After that he fed the line that would raise and lower the sail through the eye splice he’d made, moments before.

The sky was a deep, dark, dusky red when Ari came looking for him. “Eat, Ilari. I know you want to finish, but it’s time to take a break.” She smiled, handing him a bowl of food.

“Thanks.” He stood, cracking his back before taking a bite. “I guess I should’ve come up sooner, the food’s cold,” he mumbled, gesturing with his spoon. He mentally shrugged, taking another bite while studying what he’d accomplished.

“That’s easy enough to fix.” She sat, casually waving her hand in his direction. His bowl began to steam while she patted the ground beside her. The next bite was wonderfully hot like it had just come out of the pot.

“See. I knew I kept you around for something,” he said, sitting down beside her.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Are you finished?”

“Pretty much. We’ll have to raise it in the morning and I have to wrap the sail around the mast tonight to get it off the ground, but yeah, I’m done.”

“Good. Finish your dinner. Tonat and I were wondering if you were going to work through the night.”

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“Someone has to.”

He laughed. “Yes, ma’am.” He took another bite. “So, what’s going on up there? Anything interesting?”

“No. Mikus, Karn, and Turred came up out of that hole and don’t think there’s a way to explore any further. They’re exhausted, but said there’s a rock they can’t move before they wandered off to rest. They brought Tonat one of those mushrooms they found, and now she wants all of them. So, they said they’ll harvest them for her in the morning.”

“Hope everyone likes mushrooms … Everything else okay?”

“Keris and Saress are splitting up being in charge. They said something about the fighting positions being done? Everyone else is enjoying just being clean and having a safe place to sleep, no matter how bad it smells up there. Tonat did find some herbs that help cover the stink, but we really need to burn the bodies in the pit.”

“I know. The problem is the smoke will be seen for leagues.”

Ari nodded, but frowned. “It needs to be done, Ilari. Not only out of respect for the dead, but to prevent disease.”

Donnor grunted.

“Anyway, Tommy and I finished healing our wounded and then did what we could for the survivors. They still need days of healing. I may wake them tomorrow but I haven’t decided yet. One of them, the old man … the one that had the wrap around his eyes? He is especially hard to keep asleep.”

“Problem?” he asked, taking another bite.

“No. His soul is bright, is all. He is close to having Tol of his own, and it’s difficult to keep ones like him asleep without using a more powerful working. I’m afraid a stronger working could hurt him in his condition.”

“He’s a magic user?”

“No, far from it.”

“Good. I don’t need any more complications.”

“Another person that could use their Tol would be a great asset.”

“Sure, but I’m kinda partial to the asset I already have.”

“Dolt,” she said, smiling.

They sat in companionable silence while he finished eating, both of them watching the last rays of the sun set over the lake. He scraped the bottom of his bowl while dusk began, only a hint of red remaining above the western hills. The twin moons made their way across the sky, the Wyvern’s Peak mountains barely seen in the distance.

Donnor moved to put an arm around her, but she stopped him and scooted away. “Hey!”

“Ilari or no ilari, you stink.” She smiled. “You’re not touching me until you bathe.”

“Damn. That’s harsh.”

“There’s dried blood in your hair,” she said, sweetly.

“Huh. Guess there is.”

“Shoo. No more excuses.”

“Still gotta wrap the sail.”

“Then get it done, stinky,” Ari said, taking the bowl from him. He caught her with one arm, stealing a kiss before she pushed him away. “Oh, no, none of that, you cad.” She laughed. “You’re not getting me dirty.”

“Maybe I want to get you dirty.”

“Mmmm-hmmm. I bet you do,” she said, eyes dancing.

"I swear, there’s a dirty spot right there.” He pointed at her dress.

She rolled her eyes, grinning and waving him back towards the lake. “Shoo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Donnor watched her walk away, taking his bowl back to camp. She glanced back at him, catching him watching her and laughed. But he didn’t miss her pleased, teasing smile when she turned away. So, he kept at it, enjoying seeing her giggle every time she turned around.

But, with as dark as it was getting, it wasn’t long before he couldn’t see her very well. So, he turned back to finish up with the sail and the mast. He wrapped the sail around the mast and then picked the whole thing up, placing it on the boat. Then after fiddling with it so it wouldn’t fall overnight, he walked over to the bathing area.

He grabbed one of the coarse blocks of soap before moving to the water’s edge, and started to strip. Huh, I really was a mess, he realized, noticing the stains on his armor. Then he waded into the water after taking off his shirt.

Glad it’s not too cold ... Wish I had a brush, though, he thought, using sand and a couple of small, hand-sized stones to clean his gear. He kept at it, listening to the troop talking above him in the village while bits of debris washed away. The glow of a fire worked its way down through the ruins, giving off a welcoming light. And he heard Mikus harassing someone, the troop laughing at whoever it was.

Glad they’re having fun. He smiled, removing his breeches. Glad I can’t see the water, either, he thought, noticing a film on the water as he scrubbed his clothes. Even by moonlight I can tell these are cleaner. I must’ve really been a mess.

Laying everything out on the bank to dry he returned and started washing himself. He took his time to scrub every inch, dunking his head more than once to get whatever nastiness was stuck in his hair. And after he dunked his head for the fourth or fifth time, he heard someone call out.

“Now that’s a sight to see,” Ari drawled.

He was standing waist-deep in the water, chest bare to the air around him. Wiping the water from his eyes, he saw her sitting on shore by his clothes.

“How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.”

“Glad I’m not bashful.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, being out here, at least I can preserve my modesty.”

“Ilari, dear.” She smiled, knowingly. “You seem to forget.”

“Forget what?”

She made a great show of looking in the water below the level of his waist, then met his eyes with a devilish grin. “The waters of the Silverlake are quite clear, Ilari. I can see you … all of you … rather well.” She smirked.

He looked down. “Huh. I forgot about that.”

“Yes, you did.” She laughed.

“So, I’m clean … and it’s awful lonely out here. Any chance there’s a pretty girl around here who’d want to keep me warm?”

“Nice try, hero. Besides, you missed a spot.” She grinned, pointing at his brow.

He reached up, fingering his hair. “Thought I’d gotten it all,” he mumbled, dunking his head and scrubbing his hair once more. “Did I get it?”

“Not quite,” she said, watching as he dunked his head. “You’re going to get your hair all tangled if you wash it like that.”

“So? I just thought you wanted me clean.”

“You’re impossible. Where did you learn how to bathe? From barbarians?”

“I’m in a lake,” he deadpanned, waving his arms around. “It’s not like we’re in a bathhouse in Sirikii.”

She smiled, crossing one leg over the other. “I never did figure out how you got in there.”

“I have my ways.” He smiled, remembering the passion they’d shared.

“If you’d gotten caught, they would’ve had an apoplexy.”

He grinned. “I didn’t get caught.” He dunked his head again. “And I’m pretty sure you didn’t mind.”

She smiled, resting her chin on her fist. “Nope. I didn’t mind in the least.”

“Heh. Wanna wash my back?”

“Seriously?”

“There anyone else out here?”

“You think you can just ask and I’ll come?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

“Wash it yourself, you oaf.” She grinned.

“What? You just came down here to watch?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not getting in there. I’m already clean.” She smirked, so he splashed her. “Donnor!” she laughed. “Stop it!” she cried.

He kept splashing her. “Serves you right, princess. You tease,” he pleasantly accused.

She glared at him, water dripping off her nose. “Now, I’m wet!”

“Guess you might as well come in then. Wash my back?”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” she complained, fighting a smile. “You know I hate being wet.”

“Only when you’ve got clothes on.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “So that’s your plan, huh?”

“Yep.” He kept grinning, totally unrepentant.

“You’re lucky I like you.” She waded out into the water. “By life, this is cold.”

“I can help you with that.”

“I bet you can. I’m pretty sure I can warm up quite nicely on my own,” she said, her eyes taking on an inner light. The waters around her were steaming by the time she finished walking to his side. “Much better.”

“That’s cheating.”

“It’s only cheating because you can’t do it.”

“Well, yeah.” He grinned. “Wash my back?”

She rolled her eyes, smiling. “Turn around, you big oaf.”

He waded further out, lowering himself into the water as she started to scrub. “Ow. Not so hard.”

“Oh, stop complaining.”

“What are you trying to do? Take off a layer of skin?”

“Whining, I should have said.”

“Brute. And make it a little warmer while you’re at it, the heat’s nice.”

She chuckled, the water warming noticeably. “Anything else, master?”

“Nope.” He sighed, luxuriating in the warmth. “Well, maybe there is one thing.” He turned around, pulling her into deeper water.

She put her arms around his neck, letting him guide her while staring into his eyes.

“You, Lady Saliantrea, have on too many clothes.”

She laughed. “What exactly do you think is going to happen here?”

“Well, it’s not the Awyrllyn, but we do seem to have a thing for lakes.”

“Really.”

“I was kinda hoping to continue that tradition.”

“You were, hmmm?”

“Yep.”

“Not going to happen.” She smiled, eyes twinkling.

“Why’s that?”

“My dress has ties.”

“It does, does it? Well, I’m pretty sure I can help with that.”

She laughed in his arms while he struggled, not finding the ties on her back. “Not going to find them there,” she teased.

“Huh?” He tried to push her away to look better and she laughed while clinging to him even tighter. “Where’re they at?”

She smirked, glancing down. He followed her gaze, finding the ties over her breasts.

He looked back up at her. “Lady Saliantrea, are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe?”

She held his gaze as he loosened the ties, gathering her dress in his hands. Then she moved away just enough for him to pull it over her head, leaving her covered only by her shift.

“And this?” he asked, holding her dress in one hand.

She said nothing, her eyes sparkling as her dress lifted from his hands and floated its way back to shore. Then she closed her eyes, pressing herself firmly against him once more. “I love you,” she said as she opened her mouth, and he lost himself in devouring the sweet taste of her lips.

Time lost all meaning as their passions grew, expressing their desires under the light of the moons. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and she pressed herself to him, the bond flaring open, the flames of their connection feeding a mountain of desire. And he found himself standing on the edge of that glorious abyss, basking in her heat while it licked his soul. He cast himself into her fire, her wondrous inferno consuming him whole.

She gasped, breaking the kiss, her beautiful green eyes lit from within by a golden glow; those two brilliant orbs growing until they were all he could see. And he knew it was the same for her as the moment took them, building and combining into something more.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, the only thing between them her diaphanous shift. It was doing nothing to hide her from him, the light of the twin moons illuminating her body for him to see. Her scarlet hair was spread around her across the surface of the water, and the water was so clear it was unable to be seen. She was like some mysterious goddess charged with power, floating in nothingness, being held in his arms.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re real,” he breathed.

“If this is a dream, I like it.” She smiled, nudging his cheek.

“Lady Arisaylia Saliantrea …”

She interrupted with a finger to his lips, then kissed him, pulling away before it could get too heated once more.

“Hey …” he complained. But she silenced him once more with another finger to his lips, and then pulled her shift over her head. It too floated its way back towards shore as she stood naked before him. Then she returned to him, her arms going around his neck as her eyes communicated some vulnerable promise, before the heat flared through them again. Then that fire spread and travelled, before bursting into a molten radiance warming both their souls.

“Donnor Silverspear, you are going to make love to me right now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And if Tommy interrupts, I’m going to kill him,” she finished, leaning in for a kiss.

He laughed, and she laughed with him, smiling through their kiss. Their humor turning to excitement, the excitement into lust, and their lust into joy. The heady desire they had for each other overwhelmed them as they desperately, passionately, made love in the dark.

The two of them were enraptured, making up in that moment for all the years they’d missed.

Their cries of passion echoed softly across the water. All while lit by the silvery light of the moons that were reflecting off the lake, the light that gave it its name.

A Surprise on the Lake

The applause was embarrassing when they returned to camp the next day.

“It be abou’ time,” Mikus greeted them, a huge smile across his face. “Abou’ damn time,” he repeated, clapping Donor on the back.

Ari blushed prettily, nudging Donnor with her hip. And Ahton was grinning at Tonat, a smile she returned before bestowing on Ari a motherly look. Petal was sitting beside Deya and Freya, all three young women smiling and flushed while looking upon the couple with soft eyes.

Donnor looked around at their smiling and grinning faces, everyone obviously knowing exactly what had occurred between Ari and him the night before. The entire troop not on duty had turned out, and all of them were offering congratulations of one sort or another.

“All right, what’s this all about?” Donnor laughed.

“Ya’ don’ think we no’ be knowin’ what ye two love birds be doin’ down there all night, do ya’?”

“Ummm …” he said, glancing at Ari.

“An’ damn, fer’ half tha’ bloody night, too! Ya’ sure ya’ don’ still be needin’ ta’ rest?”

“Mikus Gemhands!” Ari laughed, blushing once more.

“Don’t listen to him, Commander.” Keris grinned. “Let’s just say Tonat was very firm we needed to leave you two alone last night. She had Ahton and the ch’ten watching that side of the village.”

“Thank you, Tonat,” Ari said loftily, before chittering something to her in sprite speak.

“And, you didn’t keep anyone awake. We moved everyone to the other side of the village when you got too loud,” he teased.

“Keris!” Ari protested.

Everyone laughed while Ari blushed furiously, Donnor fighting his own embarrassment as he hugged her. “All right, all right … that’s enough” Donnor said, waving them off. “Don’t you people have something to do? Get out of here,” he finished, laughter in his voice.

People went back to whatever they were doing with chuckles and grins. Mikus grabbed Keris, pulling him away and muttering about Donnor and Ari needing something to eat to get their strength back. And he made sure to say it loud enough for everyone to hear.

Tonat brought two bowls of food over to them with a gentle, knowing smile. She patted them both on their arms, looking well pleased with them, then herded them into sitting with their backs to the wagon where they could eat in peace and watch the sun rise.

“Morning, Da’,” Tommy said as he walked up from behind. “They got you, huh?”

Donnor looked over his shoulder, seeing Saress at his side. He’d never seen Saress looking so relaxed, and she had that look in her eyes all women got when something romantic happened. “You could say that.”

Ari smiled sweetly. “They didn’t get anything. I did.”

Donnor laughed. Tommy chuckling, then complained when she kissed her mate. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Ari answered, kissing his da’ once more.

“Oh, gods, stop that. You two are glowing enough already. That only makes it worse.”

“Glowing?”

“Yeah, glowing.” Tommy grinned. “I thought it was the sun, but it’s not.”

Saress glanced at him quizzically. “I see nothing?”

Ari looked down with her Tol, then looked towards Donnor. “Hmmmm. We are glowing, Ilari,” she said languidly, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Never made a girl glow before,” he said, taking another bite.

“No one’s ever made this girl glow, either.”

“Probably should figure out how that happened …”

“Probably.” Ari smiled.

“Think we should go back down and figure it out?” he grinned.

“Maybe …” She answered, eyes dancing.

“Oh, gods. Are you two going to be like this all day?” Tommy complained. Ari and Donnor both laughed, Saress joining in with her mouth hidden behind one hand.

“So where were you two?” Donnor asked, Ari snuggling into his side.

“We were down in the pit,” Tommy answered. “Tonat wants the mushrooms, so we went down to help harvest them all.”

“Anything else?”

“Besides maintaining the watch? No, Donnor. All is well,” Saress said.

“Thank the lost gods,” Donnor muttered.

Saress looked at him confused. “Were you worried about something?”

“No. Just thankful that’s all you said.”

She looked at him strangely. “Strike Leader?”

“I was worried you were going to start calling me ‘dad’.”

Ari spit her food, covering her mouth while Tommy started laughing, drink spraying out his nose in surprise.

Saress grinned, teeth showing, something Donnor rarely got to see. “We’ll see … N’Taa,” she said, laughing as well.

“Ye two done eatin’?” Mikus called, walking up.

“Almost, Mikey. What do you need?”

“No’ a damn thing. An’ it be abou’ bloody time, too.”

“Good.”

“Got any plans fer’ today?”

“Raise the mast, fish, burn the dead, continue resting and relaxing. The troop needs it. If we can spend a few days here regaining our strength, it’ll do us all a lot of good.”

“All of us? Or jus’ ye two love birds?”

“Oh, shut up.” Donnor grinned. “We came here for food, remember?”

“Aye, makin’ sure ya’ remember it, is all.” Mikus drawled, totally unrepentant. “When are ya’ gonna’ start?”

“No time like the present. Do you need Tommy today?” he asked Ari, kissing her brow. “I could use him to help run the boat.”

“Not unless you want the survivors healed, Ilari.” She smiled, glancing back at them. “I could use his help, too.”

“Half the day?”

“Half the day is fine.”

“Then Tommy, you’re with me. Let’s get that boat out and bring in a catch.”

“Sure, Da’. It’ll be like old times.”

“Mikey, get some people to check the lines on shore while we’re out there. How many days of food do we have, Tommy?”

“About two, Da’. Not counting the mushrooms.”

“Aye, an’ abou’ a day or two o’ them. Tha’ brace of birds tha’ ch’ten brought in yesterday helps a bit, too.”

“That’s for the survivors, Mikus,” Ari said. “They won’t be able to eat solid food for a while.”

“So about that much, Da’.”

“Then we better get fishing, I want at least a week of food before we move on. You find anything new down in the pit, Mikey?”

“Oh, aye. Cleared a bit o’ tha’ tunnel, but it led ta’ another collapse. It may be tha’ ondilaan found another way out at tha’ first junction, but it be hard ta’ tell. Dependin’ on how ya’ read it, the tracks either be swept away in a recent collapse, or they never been there in tha’ first place. Even Saress here don’ know. But tha’ way is blocked good. No way we’ll be gettin’ through there.

“Concerns?”

“Oh, aye, loads o’ concerns. Tha’ damn hill be a bloody warren, I’ll bet me clan on it. We been tryin’ ta’ figure out how ta’ get in tha’ big room we found, all mornin’. Big blasted slab fell, blockin’ tha’ entrance. Who knows what’s in there, canna’ see a blasted thing. But we threw a torch in anyway, an’ there be a sand floor an’ some carvings on tha’ wall by the entrance. Can only see in a wee bit, but tha’s wha’ we seen.”

“I may be able to help with that,” Ari said. Mikus nodded his thanks.

Donnor rubbed his chin in thought. “See if you can get in; use whatever you need. I’m curious, sure, but if there’s something in there we can use, we need to find out.”

“Aye. But if I be findin’ a dragon’s horde, I’ll no’ be tellin’ you about it.”

Donnor snorted. “Riiiight. Good luck with that. Anyway, you’re in charge up here, old man. Let’s go, Tommy,” he said, grinning at his friend.

“See you around lunch, Ilari,” Ari said to them. “And have fun, you two. Be safe.”

“Yes ma’am,” Tommy said, then added, “N’Taii.”

She smiled as they rose, taking their bowls back to Tonat. Tonat smiled motherly at Donnor before giving him another gentle pat on his arm. Then they walked away, Tonat approaching Ari and Saress with Petal, Deya and Feya in tow.

Donnor’s ears were burning while the ladies started chatting. And he caught Tommy chuckling, looking his way. “What?”

“I’ve never seen you this embarrassed before.”

Donnor gave him a wry smile. “Don’t get too used to it.”

“Yes, sir,” Tommy teased, a grin splitting his face before he changed the subject. “Think we’ll catch anything?”

“Only way to figure that out is out on the lake,” Donnor shrugged. “Let’s get to it.”

They placed the mast it in its mount, Tommy pounding the shims into place while Donnor strung the various lines from the mast. He secured the lines to the boat, then they pushed the boat the rest of the way into the lake. Tommy held it in place while Donnor loaded the net aboard.

“Get in and ready the sail,” Donnor directed, tying the rudder in place. After everything was ready, they pushed off.

It took a bit to get the boat going where they wanted it to since the boat had a flat bottom, and didn’t have a proper keel. But with a little bit of finagling, they eventually managed to get it moving in the direction they wanted. The breeze this morning helped, not quite strong enough to blow them sideways whenever they tacked.

“Where should we start?” Tommy asked, looking around.

“I’m thinking right here, just offshore. If that doesn’t work, we can head further south.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They stopped a few lengths from shore, lowered the sail, and started casting the net. They alternated casts like they’d done back in Lakeside, ensuring neither of them were tiring out too fast. Keeping silent company they fished, dumping anything they caught into the bow of the boat.

After an hour or two they returned to shore, enlisting help in unloading their catch before heading back out again. A rough table had been set up where the shore rigs were, and people were already cleaning the fish that had been brought in. A low fire was burning under the smoke rack, and it looked like people were already carrying down Tonat’s awning to cover it. A few fish were already hanging on the rack, waiting to smoke.

Donnor looked at their catch, then back at the rack. “I think we’re going to need another rack.”

“Already under way, Commander,” Arbet said, one of the men from first rank. “I used to help with doing this for my dad’s family back in the ‘Shoal. They fished and we smoked; it reminds me of home.” He shrugged. “Don’t have any of the extra things I usually use so it’ll be rough, but the fish’ll keep just the same.”

“What do you need?” Tommy asked.

“Salt and herbs, and piles of them. Got any?”

“Sorry, fresh out.” Tommy grinned.

“See if the ch’ten can think of anything, Arbet,” Donnor said. “Ari said Tonat is a walking tome of herbal lore. Maybe she’ll have an idea.”

“Aye, Commander,” Arbet replied, tipping an imaginary hat as he walked away.

They headed back out, this time taking the boat further west. They passed the lone island, a big boulder partially hidden by a few trees was all that they could see on it. Then casting out the net, they continued to fish while taking turns. Not having much luck, they continued moving further south until they came across a school of yellowfin. So, they stopped, fishing there until they caught no more.

“Da’, smoke,” Tommy said, pointing back towards the village.

Donnor turned, shading his eyes against the glare. A black, billowing cloud of smoke stained the sky, pouring out from the center of the village. He searched the cliff and ruins, looking for any signs of alarm.

“I don’t see anything wrong, but you’ve got your mother’s eyes. See anything we should worry about?”

Tommy studied the shore, squinting from time to time. “No. N’Taii is there on the edge. Looks like people are coming down off the hill, but everyone is walking.”

“They’re burning the dead then.”

Tommy turned, casting out the net. “You’re still watching the smoke.” He noticed his da’ hadn’t looked away from the sky.

“I’m worried it might bring more ondilaan,” Donnor mumbled. “You’ll be able to see that for leagues.”

“It could bring in survivors, too.”

“I don’t think there’s many more of them left.”

Tommy brought in the net, picking out a single fish that was too small to be worth keeping. “I think we’re done here, Da’. Want to try somewhere else?”

“Let’s try over by the island. I don’t want to go much further south and get out of sight of the village.”

“Aye,” Tommy acknowledged, raising the sail and getting them underway. They sailed towards the island and went back to fishing, catching a plethora of fantails in the net. The middling-sized fish were tasty, but had spines in their fins that were known to pierce unwary fingers. They carefully picked them out of the net before casting out once more and bringing in another load.

“I think we’ve hit the spot, Tommy.”

“Sure did. How many more do you want to bring in?”

“Let’s bring in as many as we can. The more fish, the more we can smoke, and the sooner we can check on the villages south of here.”

So, they fished: casting out the net and hauling it in, in the rhythm they’d long perfected between themselves. They worked their way around the island, bringing in catch after catch until the boat was full.

“I think this is enough, Da’. I’m having problems standing up.”

“No problem. Let’s bring in this last catch, then we’ll head in.” Donnor was helping Tommy get the last of the fish out of the net when Tommy stumbled, causing the boat to pitch. Donnor happened to be holding onto one of the fantails and jabbed himself with its spine. “Ow.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just got myself with one of the spines. I think the tip snapped off under the skin.”

“Splinter?”

“Yeah.” Donnor picked at it before sucking on it, trying to get the splinter out. He squinted up into the sky, annoyed by the glare that was making it so hard to see. It’s bleeding pretty good ...

“Can you get it out?”

“No. I can’t see it with this glare.”

“Try this,” Tommy said, a mage globe popping into existence before him. It moved its way to his side, hovering over his hand. Donnor eyed the globe before bending down to study his finger.

“I keep forgetting you can do that.”

“So do I.” Tommy grinned. “That’s bleeding pretty good, let me see if I can get it.”

Donnor watched him work, the mage globe hovering nearby the entire time. Donnor studied the smoky globe, noticing that despite its coloration, it let off a considerable light. Golden flecks flashed here and there inside the chaotically swirling globe but Tommy ignored it, only looking its way whenever it moved.

Tommy noticed his da’ watching and shrugged self-consciously. “I can’t make it move without looking at it yet.” Then he squeezed, finally getting the spine out of his finger.

“Thanks,” Donnor said, sucking the blood still oozing from the wound.

A sudden rustling came from the island, and a large bird landed on the boulder there. It perched itself on its highest point, settling its wings in to watch them.

Watch Tommy, Donnor corrected.

The bird was covered in speckled brown plumage, then a crest on its head rose, grayer than the rest. It studied them, an obvious intelligence coming from its large, amber eyes. It trilled once; a short, repetitive sound, before it picked at a spot on its chest. Then it stretched its wings, exposing bright, fiery-orange feathers, before folding them and returning to studying them once more.

“I swear that bird’s been following me,” Tommy muttered, the bird focusing in on him as he spoke.

“How’s that?” Donnor asked, noticing the bird shift its gaze to him when he replied.

“I’ve seen it here and there since we left Resthaven. Caught it watching me back in Brookside before it flew away.”

“I’ve never seen a bird like that. Wonder where it came from?” Donnor noticed its crest had bright orange feathers that were only visible when the crest was raised. “It’s as big as one of the mountain eagles back in the Vale.”

“Wonder what it wants?”

“Don’t know.”

“You want some fish?” Tommy called out to the bird, holding out one of the Fantails. The bird looked at him, shifting warily on the rock while watching the fish. “Here,” Tommy said, tossing the fish its way.

The bird watched it fall, cocking its head to look at the fish flopping around on the ground. Then it returned to looking at Tommy, cocking its head.

“Come on, bird. Eat the fish. It’s right there,” Tommy said. Then he tossed another one a little harder this time, hitting the boulder a few handspans from where the bird sat. The bird skittered to the side, looking annoyed of all things, before cocking its head once more and studying the second fish. Then it hopped over and pecked at the rock where the fish had landed, turning its head to peer at Tommy with one of its large, predatory eyes.

“I think it might be figuring it out,” Donnor said, watching the bird look back and forth between Tommy and the fish. He could almost see its wary intelligence as it watched them, trying to figure out if eating the fish was safe. Then after a few hesitant steps, it hopped down to land on one of the fish while clutching it in its claws. Then it cocking its head to peer in their direction once more.

“Do you see those feathers?” Tommy asked, wonderingly. “They’re almost kite shaped. The ones on the back of the wing there.”

The bird raised itself regally to its full height when Tommy spoke, staring his way. Then after raising its crest as high as it would go, it spread its wings and took off, circling the boat before flying off into the sky.

“Now that was the damndest thing,” Donnor said, watching the bird settle on a tree along the southern shore while still clutching the fish. “Is it still watching us?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “It just started eating the fish.”

“Huh. Well, let’s get the other one it left. The bird can have that one, but we need the fish too. With talons that big, it can fish for itself just fine.”

“Sure, Da’. Mind bringing us in a little closer? It’s still chest deep here.”

“No problem. Might as well get out and stretch our legs while we’re at it.” Donnor poled the boat in, beaching them on the sandy shore.

They pulled the bow further onto shore, Tommy walking over to pick up the fish. He found an orange feather there as well, then bent over studying the rock and running his fingers over it.

“Hey, Da’? Look at this. There’s something carved on the rock here.”

Donnor wandered over, glancing at the smoke still billowing up in the sky. “What did you find?”

“Dunno. Whatever it is, it’s barely there. Old, too. I can tell something is carved here but that’s about it.”

Donnor bent down to study it, running his fingers over the weathered marks. “Huh. It kind of looks like runes. We’ll have to tell Mikus about it,” he said, moving around the boulder to see if there was anything on the other side. And once he was there, a “Will you look at that?” was muttered by him with wonder.

“Da’?”

“I think we’ll bring Mikus and Ari back here. Come here, Tommy.”

“What’d you find?” Tommy asked as he ambled around the rock. And as soon as he saw it, he understood what had caught his da’s attention. There on the other side of the rock was a shallow pool about the size of a small cart. The boulder almost sheltered it, shielding it from view unless you were standing right there. But growing out of the pool was a vine. Large, broad leaves and curiously shaped flowers were sprouting all over it, and his da’ was nestling one of the flowers between his fingers with a strange look on his face.

“What’s that?”

“A sal’lian flower,” Donnor said, a strange catch in his voice. He was rubbing its petal gently with his thumb.

Tommy studied it, his da’ completely engrossed by the plant. The vine was as thick as Tommy’s thumb, a brilliant green with tiny tendrils branching off it here and there that were gripping the rock. Shielding most of the vine from view were its leaves, a paler green than the rest, with white, jagged, diagonal markings that travelled along its length. The leaves did their best to blend the plant into its surroundings, but nothing the leaves could do would hide its flowers from view.

Shielded by talon-like sepals of brilliant reds and orange, the inner flower gazed gently out. Its pale, yellow petals fell gently away from a cluster of stamen; each one topped with a feathery head. And from the base of the flower were even more petals, tendril-like extensions that quested curiously out from the below. Each one ended in a bulb-like tip, shading from orange to red the further away from center they went. The entire vision was a testament to the beauty nature could provide.

His da’ was strangely quiet and intent, his face progressing through a quick series of emotions while Tommy watched. Tommy waited in silence, but his curiosity eventually got the better of him. “Da’?”

“Sorry, Tommy. This just took me by surprise.”

“Why’s that. And why’s it look so familiar? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Donnor grinned. “Look down.”

“Huh?”

Donnor tapped him on the chest, right over his breast. “Here.”

Tommy looked down, catching sight of the design Ari had sewed into his armor all those weeks ago; the flower and the spear. “That’s a sal’lian flower?” he asked, looking back and forth between his chest and the plant.

“Yep. And you might have heard of something that sounds like sal’lian a couple of times since we’ve left home.”

Tommy thought about it while his da’ returned to studying the plant, using his knife to carefully cut a long piece of vine. He made sure to only cut where a section branched out from the main vine, taking the entire section with him and carefully draping it over his shoulders.

“Well, sal’lian sounds elven, and I only know one elf. So, I’m guessing it has something to do with Ari.” He thought about it a while longer. “Her last name?”

“Got it in one. Her family gets its name from this plant, the flower to be precise. It’s the symbol of her house; her family, as they say in the Vale. Sal’lian; Saliantrea.”

“So, the flower and the spear?”

“A subtle nod to her and I.” His da’ smiled, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “Come on; she’ll want to see this.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Not a clue. I’ve only ever seen them in the Vale, and they’re not common there, either. Apparently, they’re incredibly rare to find in the wild.”

“I wonder what it’s doing down here then.”

“Dunno,” Donnor said, pushing the boat into the water. “We’ll have to ask Tonat.”

“Might want to ask her about my bird, too,” Tommy said, picking up another feather off the ground and studying it.

“Your bird?” Donnor chuckled. “Is it still over there?” he asked, eyeing the treeline.

“No. But I think I see it flying over there,” Tommy said, pointing further south.

“Well, hop in and we can head back and ask. I better get this to your mother before it dies.”

“Never thought I’d see you excited to give flowers to anyone besides Mum.”

“Does it bother you?”

Tommy thought about it a moment before answering.

“No.”

Unexpected Guests

They sailed back, Tommy noticing the bird staying in sight despite circling high overhead. By the time they reached the shore it was close to midday, and it looked like the entire troop was in the meadow at the foot of the village. They’d even moved the wagon down off the hill, and it was now situated a few boat lengths from shore.

“You’ve been busy,” Donnor called to Keris, who was walking to meet him while they disembarked.

“The smell got too bad,” Keris replied. “And to be honest, only the sentries need to be up on the hill. Call me soft, but it’s prettier down here. Camping in ruins surrounded by the ondilaan’s stench, even without burning the corpses, is getting on my nerves.”

“Don’t blame you in the least. Is Mikus up on the hill?”

“Yep. Him, Karn, and Turred are seeing if the fires collapses anything or if the smoke starts coming out of the ground. How they can stand the stench up there, I don’t know,” he finished, glancing back up the hill. “Nice flowers, by the way,” he smirked.

“I’m thinking somebody around here might like them.”

“Gee, I wonder who?”

Donnor chuckled, noticing Hartok on the top the hill with a cloth wrapped around his face. Then he picked out the rest of the men around the hill, all having their faces wrapped as they maintained their watch behind whatever fortifications they’d made. “They didn’t tear up their blankets to make those wraps, did they?”

“No,” Keris replied. “We found a pile of cloth under a wall, probably a weaver’s house. Anyway, we washed what we found and made them out of that. The rest is still drying over there,” he said, pointing off towards the wagon.

“That’s a lot of cloth,” Donnor said, eyeing the setup there. A handful of clotheslines had been set up with all manner of colored cloth hanging from them, drying in the breeze. “That’s almost enough to change everyone’s sheets back in Jarrod’s inn. All that was just lying around?”

“Yup. In a pile of mud under a collapsed wall.”

“Huh. Is there enough there to make tents?”

“They’d be some thin tents. It’s bedding, not canvas.”

“I wonder what it was for? Oh well. Where’re the survivors?”

“Over by the sheets. You can’t see it from here, but the Lady’s over there with them.”

“Hey, Tommy?” Donnor called. “Your mother’s on the other side of the wagon.” He pointed. “Get the catch unloaded and then head on over.”

“Aye, Da’,” Tommy replied, walking towards Arbet. Arbet was at the cleaning station a little ways from where they’d beached the boat, and the people with him were busy gutting and cleaning the fish as they were brought over.

“Anything else going on?”

“Those other correts? We finally got them penned in with our own.”

“How’d you manage that? I thought they wouldn’t let anyone near them.”

“It was the strangest thing. Alarat took the artock out to bring the wagon down, and left Camm with our correts in the pen. Anyway, once the artock left the other ones just wandered over, walked right up to the gate, danced around a bit, then darted in like they were running for their lives. Scared the heck out of Camm. Anyway, they’re all in there now,” he said, hooking his thumb towards the pens. “They got nervous when we brought the artock back, so we put it in another pen for now.”

“Guess we have more correts.”

“Guess we do. As long as they let Alarat and Camm near them, that is. They aren’t having much luck,” Keris chuckled. “They’re still at it if you need a good laugh.”

“Donnor, is that you?” Ari called from the other side of the wagon. He could feel her searching for him through the bond.

“Over here, Ari.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Ari said, walking into view with Saress. “I need …” Then her eyes bulged out, seeing the flowers around his neck. “Sal’lian flowers! Where in life did you get sal’lian flowers?”

“Here, Lady Saliantrea,” he said, draping them over her shoulders. “A reminder of home.”

Ari hesitantly fingered the blossoms, gently caressing the plant like she was afraid it was going to disappear. She looked at him, utterly speechless, then looked back and forth between him and the flowers, mouth hanging open while her mind spun.

“Surprise, love,” Donnor said gently, pushing teasing laughter through the bond.

“How … where … what …” Ari sputtered. “Where did you get these!” she demanded.

Donnor guffawed.

“Damn you Donnor Silverspear! You tell me this instant where you got these flowers or I’m going to magic you so far out in that lake it’ll take you days to swim to shore!”

Saress grinned.

“I found ‘em.” He smirked. Ari just looked at him, pinching her lips before a golden spark shot out and struck him in the butt. “Ow!”

“There is more of that for you if you don’t start telling me this instant where you got these flowers!” Another spark flashed out, stinging him once more.

“Ow! Fine! I’ll tell you,” Donnor said, laughing in the face of her annoyance. “There’s an entire vine growing out of a spring on the island over there.”

“A vine!”

“About twice as long as I am tall,” Donnor confirmed as Tonat wandered into view.

Tonat took one look at the sal’lian flowers and raced over, chittering excitedly in her tongue. The rest of the ch’ten popped out around the wagon, curiosity evident as Tonat delicately reached out and stroked one of the flowers. She looked as amazed as Ari did; like if she didn’t keep touching them, they were going to disappear. She looked at Ari, her wonder evident, before babbling away at Donnor in her tongue.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Donnor said, holding out his hands. “I don’t understand a thing you’re saying.” He laughed when she started shaking a finger at him.

The rest of the ch’ten came up, half in wonder, half with surprise as they caught sight of the flowers. Tonat started muttering to herself, shaking her head at Donnor before calling out sharply for Ahton.

“What’s got them stirred up?” Tommy asked.

“They must like the flowers, too,” Donnor mused, watching an excited conversation take place amongst the ch’ten. He felt like he was standing in the middle of a squirrel family reunion while an argument with a bird was underway. The sprites clustered around Ari, all reaching out and touching the vine that was draped around her neck.

“It’s more than that, Commander,” Rast said, listening to the excited chatter. “Is that really one of the life flowers?”

“What?” Ari asked, totally nonplussed.

“Life flowers. There are a couple of different ones according to myth. Myths of my people, that is. They’re children’s stories, but I think Tonat is about to pass out,” Rast grinned.

“Could you tell her to calm down? It’s only a sal’lian flower, the flower of my house. They’re rare, sure, but we have gardens full of them back home.”

Rast translated, Tonat and the rest of the ch’ten so surprised they suddenly all looked like they were about to pass out. Tonat asked Ari something very profound.

“She asks: whole gardens?”

“Yeah, whole gardens of them,” Donnor confirmed, Ari nodding. “They’re all over Sirikii. Well, at least near the Saliantrea family estate, that is.”

“Tonat?” Ari asked, getting her attention. “Tonat, calm down. What’s wrong?”

Tonat had grabbed Ahton by the arm, wobbling and speaking so fast it sounded like one continuous noise coming out of her mouth. She didn’t let go of Ahton’s arm, either, shaking him from time to time as she made her point. She flipped from speaking reverently whenever she pointed at the flowers, to almost angrily waving her hands at Donnor whenever she looked his way.

Tommy had never seen the sprites so stirred up before, all of them chittering amongst themselves. The rest of the troop looked on curiously while Lari, one of the other sprites in the troop, wandered over to see what was going on. His face was screwed up, obviously trying to understand the rapid-fire babble coming out of Tonat’s mouth. While he was doing that, Tommy caught sight of his bird flying overhead and remembered he wanted to ask Tonat about the feathers.

“Oh, hey. Rast? Could you ask Tonat about these feathers? We found them on the island, too.” He pulled them out, bringing the brilliant orange feathers into view.

All noise ceased.

There was a long, profound pause, before a member of the ch’ten passed out, falling to the ground with a dull thud. Tonat wobbled on her feet, eyes almost as big as her head as she looked at the two feathers in Tommy’s hand. Then she reached out grasping for balance, Ahton steadying her as the little sprite girl bounced into view. The little girl was chittering away happily, oblivious to what was going on, but even she screeched to a halt as she caught sight of the brilliant orange feathers in Tommy hand.

Tonat reached out towards the two fiery-orange feathers before sharply pulling her hand back without touching them. She gazed at Tommy, mouth working without a sound, then whispered something almost reverently before reaching out and dragging Rast into view. Then she gave him orders, very firm orders, in short clipped words while utter reverence resonated in her words.

“She … ah … she wants to know where you got those.”

Tommy looked at his da’ and shrugged. “From the bird,” Tommy said, uncomfortable with every eye of the ch’ten riveted on him.

“Uhhh. What bird, she asks. She’s, um, very insistent.”

“The bird that landed on the island over there. It’s where we got the vine.”

Tonat began muttering to herself, holding her head in one hand while staring at the ground. Ahton was rubbing her shoulders while a great debate amongst the ch’ten began. While that was going on, Itak knelt to wake up the one who’d passed out. Then Tonat silenced them all with a sharp word, continuing to mutter and answer herself as she paced.

“What’s she saying, Rast?” Donnor asked, perplexed by the drama surrounding the ch’ten.

“Something about it being a sign. That the … I’m not catching that … the bird you scared was … something to the life flower.”

“Scared? We didn’t scare it. It landed right there.”

Tonat looked up as Rast translated the last bit, eyes even wider if that was even possible. She walked over to Tommy, gathering his jerkin in both of her tiny hands and shook him, chittering a command.

“She, ah …” Rast looked at her nervously. “She’s demanding you tell her what happened.”

Tonat looked like she was going to hurt him if he didn’t answer quickly enough, so Tommy scrambled to explain. “The bird landed on the rock, stared right at us and didn’t go away. I thought it was hungry, so I threw it some fish. It hopped down then took one them and flew off. We went to get the fish it left behind and found the feathers, the marks on the rock, and then the flowers there.”

“It took the fish?” Tonat demanded through Rast.

“Yeah.”

“And it left one for you?”

“Well, it left it.”

“And then it flew away?”

“Yeah?”

“Did it eat it?”

“Yeah …” Tommy questioned, drawing out the word and totally confused with her intensity.

Tonat rested her forehead on his chest, still clutching his jerkin in both hands while muttering to herself. Then she looked up into his eyes while shaking him indignantly. “Do you have any idea how blessed you are?” she demanded through Rast.

“Blessed? Why blessed?” Tommy asked. Tonat started shaking him, emphasizing one word after another while she answered. “Rast, what’s she saying? It’s just a bird,” Tommy said, eyeing the indignant sprite.

“I’m not really following it, Tommy. She’s speaking in the dialect of the deep forest, but I think I’m catching most of what she’s saying. Something about maybe one in every hundred … turnings? Something about no one seeing a life flower in ... I didn’t catch that. And now she’s muttering something about legends, life, and birds. She’s going on and on about it accepting your gift and is wondering what it means.”

“Ow!” Tommy cried as Tonat reached up and thunked him on the head. “What was that for?” he demanded, rubbing his forehead.

“She says anyone who sees one is blessed. She says you’re an idiot for being so casual about it. She’s really upset,” Rast mused.

Tonat rapped him again. “Ow! Blessed? For seeing a bird? It’s not much of a blessing. That hurt!” he said, rubbing his head.

Tonat looked furious. “Not much of a blessing?” Rast translated.

“No. Ow! Get away! By the lost gods if I’m blessed, then so are you! It’s right over there,” Tommy exclaimed, trying to get away from her hand.

Tonat’s jaw hit the ground as she followed Tommy’s finger, seeing the bird circling high overhead. Tonat and the ch’ten sputtered, all of them looking back and forth between Tommy and the bird. Then Tonat took in Ari’s flowers, looked back towards the bird, and then sputtered some more. Holding her head in both hands, she wavered unsteadily on her feet before saying something to Ahton and stumbling away.

Her mate said something to Tommy that sounded almost like it was a chant. The ch’ten made reverent replies to whatever Ahton was singing, sounding like a flock of birds singing the chorus to a song. Then they all stopped and gave Tommy and Ari a final look, before the ch’ten escorted Ahton and Tonat back behind the wagon.

“What was that about?” Donnor asked.

“I don’t know, Commander,” Rast said, his confusion evident. “They’re just children’s stories ... I’m going to go try and figure it out,” he said, following the ch’ten, chittering questioningly after them.

“Well, until somebody explains it, we might as well help get things done. Ari, is Tommy off with you?”

Ari was watching where the ch’ten had gone, fingering one of the flowers. “Yes, Ilari. I need his help with the survivors.”

“Then you might as well get started. Saress, are those knives any good for cleaning fish?”

“My teachers would die, N’Taa, if they knew.” She grinned. “But, yes, they clean fish just fine.”

“Then come with me. We’ve got a lot of fish to clean.”

They split up, each going their separate ways. Donnor joined those cleaning the catch, settling into a spot where he could see his ilari and their son. Ari smirked, catching sight of him watching her and winked, before starting whatever it was the two of them did and turning her attention away. So, he did as well, the men joking amongst themselves as they gutted and filleted, Saress joining in while they worked.

Sometime later Ari called a still stunned looking Tonat over and talked to her for a while before the other sprites brought over some soup. Ari began waking the survivors one by one, having them drink tiny amounts.

“Saress, she’s waking them up. I better go say hello.”

“A moment, Donnor. Let me finish this and we’ll go.”

“Saress, they’re only right over there,” he complained, waving at Ari less than an arrow shot away.

“And it takes only a moment for me to rinse my hands, N’Taa.”

“Oh, gods. You are bound and determined to be our shadow, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Get on with it then, Taii’ni,” he said loftily, waving his hands dismissively towards the water.

Saress chuckled as she finished, the two of them eventually walking over to the survivors. By the time they arrived, Ari had managed to rouse about half of them, each one waking up when she touched their brow.

They still looked skeletal, but at least they now had some color in them that hadn’t been there before. And there was a hint of something in their eyes beyond the haunting despair they’d had the day they’d been removed from the pit. Donnor glanced towards the smoke billowing up in the sky, spitting his anger to the side at what the ondilaan had done.

“How are they?” He noticed Ari had Deya, Feya, and Petal helping her with the wounded. “And why are only the ladies the ones helping you?”

“Us ladies are less threatening with what they’ve been through. And I need to keep them calm. Their bodies are still fragile.”

“Who are you?” one of the humans struggled out when Donnor leaned over.

“Donnor. Commander Donnor of Lakeside. Lord Maorilan commissioned me to check on the villages west and south of Redtail. I’m sorry we couldn’t get here sooner,” he said, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder.

The man nodded as if the question and the answer exhausted him. “We’re alive?”

“You’re alive,” Donnor confirmed. “It’s not a dream.” The man closed his eyes, falling almost instantly back to sleep. He was weak, extremely weak, but his body seemed more at ease. Donnor looked at Ari in concern.

“They’re all like that, Ilari, and they will be for days. Some aren’t even truly conscious when I wake them. It’s very sad.” Ari shrugged.

“Are you in charge,” a weak voice called from his left.

Donnor walked over seeing an old man lying there with white stubble on his chin. The man’s eyes were rheumy, no pupils to be seen, just a milky-blue swirl where his pupils should be. He was obviously blind, and it surprised him that the man’s eyes sought him out as he walked over. “Yes, that would be me.”

“Thank you,” the man said. “Thank you for saving us.”

“You’re welcome,” Donnor said, patting him gently on his shoulder. “Who are you?”

“Alantin. Alantin Ben’gall,” the man tiredly said. “Is Shandii still alive?”

“Yes, she’s over there,” Donnor replied, waving in her direction. “We’ll wake her in a moment.”

“Wake her?”

“Yes. Ari is a mage. She’s keeping you all asleep to ease her healing. It’s the second day since we rescued you from the pit.”

“Two days …” Then he coughed, wheezing a bit after he was through. He took a few shaky breaths before continuing. “I am a monk … of the spire. I need to meditate .... can heal … don’t keep me asleep.” Another wracking cough took him.

“Ari?” Donnor called.

“Are you sure,” Ari said, kneeling by his side.

“An elf?” Alantin said, obviously surprised.

“Yes, from the Vale.”

Alantin coughed once more. “Care for Shandii … kept us alive. Her … her riders,” he finished. Coughing wracked his body.

“We will, Alantin. Rest,” Ari gently admonished, the old man nodding in reply. “Petal? When you’re finished, see if Alantin here can take some broth. Alantin, take as much as you can. But if you start getting weak, you are going back to sleep.”

The old man nodded. “... Wrap?” he whispered. “Symbol of … my order ....”

“The black scarf?” He nodded. “We kept it in your pocket.” Ari placed it in his hand.

“Thank you,” Alantin breathed, relaxing noticeably when she handed it to him. “I will rest … healer.”

Ari patted him as he closed his eyes, Tommy calling her away. “Ari, she’s still hurt,” Tommy said, eyes closed with his face screwed up in concentration.

Tommy was bent over Shandii, the only one of the survivors Donnor recognized. She looked much younger now that she was clean; someone obviously had taken the time to wash the survivors up. Ari was still stroking Shandii’s blonde hair and concentrating on the gnome when Mikus walked up.

“Ya’ sure brought in a fine catch with ya’. Whatcha’ got goin’ on over here?”

“Ari’s waking the survivors up, feeding them broth.”

“They sayin’ anythin’?”

“No, they’re too weak. They fall asleep almost as soon as they wake up. What’ve you been up to?”

“Seein’ if tha’ rat warren o’ a hill will share any o’ its secrets. It’s no’ cooperatin’.”

“No?”

“No, tha’ blasted thing. Tha’ hill has ta’ be riddled with rooms an’ passages all through it. It be leakin’ smoke here an’ there over tha’ whole bloody thing. No’ a single way ta’ get ta’ any o’ it, neither.” Mikus shrugged. “It’d take weeks o’ diggin’ ta’ figure it out unless Ari can do somethin’, an’ we no’ be havin’ tha’ time.”

“Well, we found another mystery you might want to look at in the meantime.”

“Aye?”

“There’s a boulder out on the island that has carvings all over it. Looks like runes, but they’re faded to the point they’re almost gone. Found a sal’lian vine over there.”

“I been wonderin’ where she be gettin’ tha’ flowers,” Mikus said, nodding towards the vine around Ari’s shoulders.

“I cut off a branch before we came back. Anyway, we’ll have to take you out there if we get the chance.”

“Sure. What’re we doin’ now?”

“Nothing.” Donnor stood, wiping his hands on his breeches. He nodded towards Alantin when he noticed the man’s eyes still on him, then walked back towards shore. “Wanna help clean the catch? It’s going to take a while.”

“Sure. She’ll be wakin’ tha’ damn shrew, anyway.”

Donnor chuckled as they joined the men cleaning the catch along shore. And the afternoon passed in easy company, the troop working together in harmony.

After a while Ari and Tommy joined them, Tommy helping to clean the last of the catch while Ari took a break. “How’re they doing?” Donnor asked, nodding towards the survivors while Ari sat down.

“Fine for now. They are all back asleep, even Alantin, though he went back to sleep on his own.”

“Any problems?”

“No. Though a few of them have wounds I don’t recognize. Internal damage, without any obvious signs of injury. They heal readily enough so it’s not really that important, just something I’m curious about. I’ll ask them about it when they’re better.”

“Shandii asked about you, Mikus,” Saress deadpanned.

“She bloody well did no’!”

Ari tittered. “Sorry, Mikus, she really did.”

“The first person she asked about, too,” Saress chuckled.

Mikus shuddered, everyone laughing at his reaction. The troop started harassing Mikus to varying degrees, but eventually Saress admitted Shandii had only asked about ‘that bloody dwarf’ after she saw Mikus turn so red he looked like his head would pop off. Mikus grumbled and sputtered, everyone else laughing at his expense.

Someone took up a song, and then another as the work went on. Then Haleran mentioned he wished they had some music. Caynen asked if anyone had seen any reeds, saying he could make some whistles as long as someone else knew how to play them.

Ty said he’d seen reeds over by the cliff, and Rordin and him went gathering while the rest of them worked. Then Caynen used his knife to fashion rude slide-whistles out of the reeds they brought back. They definitely weren’t fine instruments by any stretch of the imagination, but they were able to carry a tune, and eventually he had a half dozen or so ready. A few of the men had some experience playing them, and they moved off to start experimenting with various tunes.

There was a lot of laughter involved as they figured things out, and the ch’ten wandered back while they started to play. Then one of the sprites recognized a tune Sollip was singing, and started drumming along on one of the ruined boats. Pretty soon a band was formed performing an assortment of rustic tunes heard all around the Serensea.

First Petal, then Deya and Feya were asked to dance, and then the men of the troop made it their mission to dance the ladies into merry exhaustion. Laughing and spinning the women around, even Donnor got into the spirit of things. Making a flamboyant bow towards Ari he grabbed her hand and pulled his laughing partner into a country dance. Then before Saress could escape, Ari conspired with him to grab their elusive guardian and guilted her into sharing a jig.

Saress scowled mightily, but Ari laughingly told her it was a family command, adding that Saress a’Saliantrea better enjoy it and have fun or she’d end up swimming in the lake, too. One glance into Ari’s green and gold eyes took the bluster right out of her, and eventually Saress calmed down enough to enjoy herself, laughing when Tommy bowed in.

The dancing and merriment continued, everyone celebrating the break in their adventure. Fires were lit, Tonat serving the evening meal while a gentle breeze spread its delicious smell. And with the sun setting over the lake, bellies full, and spirits high, the troop relaxed in each other’s company. The sweet sounds of nature accompanied the conversations still going on, laughter and tales still sounding here and there while they all relaxed.

It was a little while later when the sun was almost down, when one of the sentries cried out. “Travelers on the rise!”

Donnor and Mikus looked towards where Tak was pointing from on top of the hill. Tommy followed his da’s gaze, seeing a group of people standing on the rise where the road came in. Three of them separated from the whole, all in cloaks with their hoods up, with one of them definitely a woman from what he could see.

“Grab your spears but stand easy,” his da’ ordered as one of the distant figures raised their hand in the universal gesture of peace. “Ari, to the rear, and shield yourself from view. Do what you have to.”

“Orders?” Keris asked, trotting down the hill.

“They’re travelers until we know different. Everyone on your feet but stand easy. For all we know, they’re more refugees. Cayden? Another tune please, let’s keep it friendly. Rast? The ch’ten will protect Ari. Guard her before anything else,” he ordered through his teeth in a tone that brooked no disobedience, smiling all the while at the approaching figures.

Cayden started playing another country tune while the figures approached. The ch’ten moved to surround Ari, as did half the troop, protecting their lady who’d saved them all. There was no hiding the way the troop moved, but they shielded her from view while Saress joined them and drew her knives.

Tommy studied the figures in the dwindling light. Whoever they were, they were wearing matching gear except for that one woman who was wearing a dress, and every single one of them was moving with a marked grace. But regardless of his da’s orders to relax, Tommy felt a growing tension take shape as the party moved closer, some uncanny feeling that teased his senses.

The remainder of the group stayed on top of the rise, watching the members of the party approach while never once lowering their hoods. There were nine left behind on the rise that Tommy could see, twelve total; only three approaching. And as those three got close enough to hail, his da’ called out.

“Hello!”

“Hello,” a woman called out in return. An oddly familiar accent colored her voice, reminding Tommy of something he’d heard before. He noticed Ari and Saress stiffen at the woman’s reply, his da’ looking towards them curiously when Saress raised her hood.

“If you come in peace, then you are welcome by the fire,” his da’ said. “If not, you approach at your own risk.”

“We come in peace,” the woman replied, continuing her advance. “We have travelled far and your fire is welcome. We are searching for someone. Someone we have been looking for, for a long time. Can the rest of our party approach?”

“As long as you come in peace, then yes. All are welcome.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied.

“Who are you,” Donnor asked when the three of them were less than half a bowshot away.

One of the woman’s two escorts let out a ululating whistle, the party on the rise immediately starting their way. They all had their hoods up, and every single one of them was dressed the same. Except for one figure that Tommy could now tell was wearing a robe, that is. Saress was all but vibrating in place while they approached, whispering urgently in Ari’s ear.

“I have to ask before I respond. Are you Donnor? Commander Donnor of Lakeside?”

Donnor was looking around quizzically, picking up on Saress’s tension. Ari was showing signs of alarm, trying to tell him something with her eyes. Mikus casually moved to stand in front of him, slightly off to the side while leaning both hands on his axe. And it dawned on Tommy that Mikus was now where he always stood when the two of them went into battle.

His da’ replied. “Aye, I am. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

The woman lowered her hood bringing her features into view. She was an elf, looking almost middle-aged from what Tommy could see, which he now knew meant she was much older than she appeared. Bright blue eyes shown intelligently from beneath her immaculately coiffed hair, and her auburn locks were adorned with glittering finery woven into her braids while a jeweled comb was off to one side. Her cloak fell open as she all but danced her way closer, spreading to reveal a travelling dress of dark purples and reds. And on her left breast was a symbol fashioned into a pin, a glittering flower, sparkling and flashing in the light of the fire.

“I believe we may have met, though it was a long time ago. I am Falia a’Saliantrea. And if you are the Donnor I recall, Commander Donnor of Lakeside, it has been nigh on twenty years since we last spoke. So, I think it would be better for me to name you as you were once known ...

“Far’e’na … Silverspear,” she finished, bestowing on him a smile full of warmth and greeting.

His da’s jaw fell open as the two figures at Falia’s side lowered their hoods. Suddenly there were three elven women standing before them. Falia smiled into his da’s stunned expression while the other two kept their features blank, allowing their gazes to roam.

There was a gasp as Ari asked, “Falia?” Then she pushed through the members of the troop, staring at the woman in surprise. “Falia!” Ari rushed to the woman’s side, gathering her up in her arms in a fierce hug. Saress followed behind, cautiously eyeing the other two elves who were eyeing her warily in return. The three passed nods of recognition to each other as Donnor watched Ari and Falia babble away in happy reunion.

“Tommy! Tommy, come here!” Ari exclaimed, a brilliant smile on her face. “This is Falia, my maid from childhood! What are you doing here?” she demanded in delight.

Tommy approached, noticing Falia’s pin was shaped like a sal’lian flower.

“Looking for you, dear. Looking for you,” she repeated, tears in her eyes.

“Me? Why are you looking for me?”

“Because of me,” a man answered, walking into the light.

He was an elven man, old to Tommy’s eyes. And as he pushed his cloak back to reveal himself, a formal robe of gilded threads came into view. The man’s gaze was fixed upon Ari, a subtle red light swimming in the depths of his eyes. He looked upon her while seeming to judge her, Tommy seeing a decision being made there.

“Arisaylia Saliantrea, you are called to return to the Vale,” the man pronounced. Tommy saw a reddish glow begin to surround him while he continued to speak. “You are called before the council.”

“The council? Whatever for? And what are you doing here S’tol Garesh?” she asked, suddenly on guard, glancing towards the rest of his party.

“Arisaylia Saliantrea, you are to present yourself to explain your actions,” the man continued with a harsh formality. The light in his eyes was brightening, and it was making Tommy nervous.

“My actions? I have made no ‘actions’ S’tol Garesh. And who are you to question me?” Ari said, taking on a cold hauteur Tommy had never before seen.

“Arisaylia Saliantrea, I am a messenger of the Wi’Jitikiin. You are called to present yourself before them to be judged.” He made a strange gesture, the light brightening even more.

Tommy glanced at his da’, wondering what the light meant. Mikus, Saress, and his da’ were wholly focused on where S’tol Garesh stood.

“A messenger from whom?” Ari demanded, backing away until her back was to Donnor’s chest. The light continued to build.

Tommy reached out for his da’.

“Lord Terris Farlesdar, Wi’Jitikiin …” S’tol Garesh replied, while the light around him flared bright.

Ari gasped, whipping her head to stare into her ilari’s eyes.

“… and Alaris Farlesdar … your husband.”

An explosion of Tol quested and slammed into everyone around them and then an eagle cried.

And then Tommy was struck by a tremendous weight.

Epilogue

Nessa Alaris Farlesdar had left the children’s tower, furious after overhearing Pawdrig and Sella’s tale. Eyes aglow, he’d stormed from the Hold in silence, returning to his troops camped below. Then the after a night of bustling preparations, the army left Redtail, marching its way into the pass.

Maorilan had tried to reach out many times throughout the night, but all of his overtures were ignored. And he cursed himself for his loose tongue, knowing full well the disaster that he had caused. But before the army had completely disappeared, a single elven officer was sent to him with a simple command. And a command it was. His instructions were simple.

Do not follow. And do not interfere.

Most of that day had been quiet, Maorilan and Sir Laigan discussed the prince’s mood and message before coming to a simple decision. It was their land; they would send a detachment to follow regardless of the message, risking the prince’s ire.

The guard took what few horses they had and quickly followed the army, reporting they were allowed to observe it unmolested. But their presence was unwelcome, of that there was no doubt. The elves warned them off whenever they got too close, and not once did they respond to their questions.

Maorilan ordered them to watch without further antagonizing the elves, afraid of Alaris’s mood. And Sir Laigan stayed by Maorilan’s side as the day moved on. While Pawdrig tracked the army’s advance by moving markers on the map when reports came in.

Tessa did her best to improve her lord’s mood, plying him with various things from around the hold, but Pawdrig was uninterested. He’d been deep in thought ever since Alaris had left. The prince having left only after discovering a betrayal ongoing since Pawdrig’s father’s time, a betrayal he had helped to commit.

Pawdrig couldn’t help it, it bothered him because he liked the man, with his strange elven honor and the difficult position he found himself in. Regardless of what the Lord of Redtail Hold thought and decided for the good of his land, the man Pawdrig Maorilan had sympathy; fully understanding the man’s desire to secure his mate to ensure his line.

It was late the first evening that the thunder began, echoing defiantly across the water. Maorilan looked out his office window towards the ‘sea, searching the sky for an early storm. But the sky was clear, the smaller moon was full, the larger nearly so. And both their lights were merrily glistening off the waves from what he could see.

He stood, wandering to find the storm on the other side of his tower, but there were no clouds there either. There was not a single drop of rain in the sky as thunder reverberated once more, coming to his ears in quick bursts. A foreboding took him as he climbed and exited upon the roof of his tower. Only then did he confirm what he feared most. The reports sounded once more as he turned his gaze upon the mountains, and the din coming from the pass.

As darkness fell that first evening, ominous sounds echoed from the east accompanied by strange lightning. It came in bursts of brilliance, flashing and flaring chaotically amongst the mountaintops. People came, pointing and whispering towards the eerie lights while seeking answers. But Maorilan sat atop his tower in silence, bearing witness to what he knew was happening there.

A battle among the Sunset Peaks.

Food and drink came and went, Pawdrig setting it all aside. Reports were made describing the battle joined, Sir Laigan giving insights and ideas, discussing options and strategy. But it all passed him by as Pawdrig listened to the endless thunder. He recognized the drums of war that were being sounded in the mountains by the elves, and they struck a heady tempo while he sat there, not even being asked to assist.

The campaign continued into the next day, his guard coming and going through the pass. They reported a fierce battle underway. The elves pushed relentlessly forward, continuing their assault, and advancing step by perilous step. The ondilaan were opposing them, their numbers beyond counting, a sea of bodies that refused to fold.

The elves were using magics both horrible and queer, obliterating the enemy before them. His men reported streaks of lightning, explosions, and screams, along with great upheavals in the earth and sky above. But even with all of the destruction his shaken men bore witness to, the elves barely moved forward. Each step was under heavy opposition while the ground itself was being defiled by the continuous explosions, every breath there now unclean.

The enemy did not take their destruction unanswered. Charge after endless charge was thrown against the elven lines; some with success, and some not. And many elves were struck down despite their magical shields, an endless hail of flaming arrows flung in their direction. But despite their inability to destroy the elves, his men reported a never-ending savagery from the ondilaan as they did everything they could to reach their foe. The horde seemingly reveling in the battle of annihilation under way.

His men described wicked and depraved howling from the ondilaan, seemingly coming from the land itself. How the slavering horde threw itself without care against the elven lines, the ground in front of their lines exploding in constant detonations while bodies flew to and fro. Then using their own bodies to drag down their foe, the ondilaan penetrated into the elven lines, sowing chaos and anarchy until they were put down. The elves fighting bravely to close their lines, stepping over their own wounded without care to beat back their foe.

By the morning of the second day, a camp of shattered and bleeding elves began to grow in the mouth of the pass. Looking for succor from amongst healers of their own, they did not even acknowledge Pawdrig’s offer of assistance. Refusing all communication with Redtail, they refused even the cartful of herbs and bandages he sent their way.

By noon Pawdrig was beside himself. He wanted to see the battle himself, to do whatever he could to protect his lands, to add his forces to Alaris’s own. But Tessa overheard and hurriedly called upon Sir Laigan, afraid her lord’s guilt was overriding his senses. That afternoon became one of the few times Sir Laigan and he had ever quarreled, and it was a historic argument, descending into a shouting match that echoed throughout the Hold.

Sir Laigan was adamant that there was nothing they could do. The reports were clear, the guard was utterly unable to protect Pawdrig on the battlefield. There was no way they could contest the numbers they saw, the ondilaan would overwhelm them in an instant, and this did not even begin to address the magic the prince and his army wielded. An angry, offended prince, he reminded his lord. A prince who just might be furious enough to throw his army’s magic against them.

But Pawdrig was insistent. He could not sit still, would not be rejected out of hand by the elves. This was his land, his enemy, his people he was sworn to protect. He could not sit impotently by and do nothing as another fought for his lands. Waving angrily towards the growing number of wounded elves at the foot of the pass, he demanded to know how many more must die. And he imperiously ordered his knight to accompany him onto the field, to fight for their lands and fulfill their oath.

But Sir Laigan preached reason, staring him down while desperately holding onto his anger as he tried to argue sanity into his lord. The knight was relentless in reminding Pawdrig of his duty to crown and country, and further his obligations to his people. He was charged with protecting the lands around the Serensea by the king, not to find glory on the battlefield. And he reminded Pawdrig of the plan he’d made all those weeks ago: To use rumor to lure someone with troops to Redtail, to use them to protect his lands.

Pawdrig was furious having his own words thrown against him. What was he to do? Sit on his laurels and do nothing like some coddled babe? And as the argument reached its crescendo, he came close to accusing his loyal knight of cowardice. His voice thundering throughout the room as his one true friend, someone who had all but raised him, brought up the particulars of Maorilan’s oath. The ancient oath every Lord of Redtail, and only the lords of Redtail Hold, swore unto the Timeless Throne. Swearing their oath in a ceremony and sealing it with their own blood upon the cornerstone of the central tower, all under the light of the twin moons.

The Lord of Redtail Hold must remain in or around the Hold as ordained by ancient covenant, to guard it against all comers until his or her death, or until the Hold was destroyed.

Unless there was an heir.

It was the duty of the knights of the order of Pa’din to ensure the oath was upheld. Appointing a chosen knight to uphold the oath, the knights took their charge seriously. And they sent only their best and their brightest to safeguard the holder of the oath and his heir, sending a single knight against the darkness. As it had been, and always would be, for all time.

And that knight was Sir Laigan.

There was no heir, no one in direct line, and both of them knew it. If his lord wished to do battle to protect the Hold, he would do everything in his power to support him, but Sir Laigan would be derelict in his duty to allow his lord to throw his life away in the pass on a whim. He begged his lord not to foreswear his oath and stain his honor, entreating him to stay, to hold to the oath he took.

Maorilan’s true knight continued to beg in the face of his rising fury, pleading with Maorilan not to leave the Hold without a lord. For he would surely die on that terrible battlefield, along with every man that went with him, leaving Redtail Hold leaderless and drifting aimlessly on the wind.

All without an heir.

But Pawdrig was obstinate. Letting his passions range free, he ordered his knight to accompany him onto the field. Daring him to see battle once more, to protect the people of the Serensea, to show these people what a true knight could be. And he demanded an answer, then and now before his lord.

But Sir Laigan remained silent, a moment he never imagined unfolding before him. Pawdrig impatiently awaited his answer as Sir Laigan hung his head, realizing he must choose between competing duties. And he answered his lord in the only way it could be.

No.

Sir Laigan would stay and fulfill his lord’s oath, the oath he was sworn to protect, the oath he’d witnessed Pawdrig make in his own blood upon the stone before his father and the crown. He swore on his honor to stay behind and preserve whatever forces Pawdrig left him. But no, he could not leave.

He would protect the Hold to the bitter end, and a bitter end it would be, for surely Pawdrig would fall upon the battlefield along with everyone who went with him. And if anyone survived, they would escort his body with every honor to far off Tatdavarr. To petition the king to entomb him in the royal family’s crypt, as was due any lord who fell defending their land.

But, no, he would not leave.

The only thing he asked was if his lord somehow survived, that upon his return his execution be swift, because Sir Laigan could not bear to return to his order with his honor in question. The honor he had tried to teach a promising young boy, the boy who had become the man that was his lord today. Sir Laigan knelt and bowed his head, hoping his lord found better service in his next knight.

Whoever that may be.

Maorilan dismissed him. The particulars of the scene being spread throughout the hold, the entire episode setting the Hold on edge. A strange pall settled over Redtail, making everyone step cautiously, his people in fear of starting the argument anew.

Hours passed before Maorilan cooled, and as he did so, he recognized Sir Laigan’s unwavering loyalty. To disobey a direct order from his lord to uphold an oath, and his liege’s oath as well. To besmirch his own honor so that even after Maorilan’s death, his oath would be fulfilled.

He sent for his knight.

They settled their anger, hesitantly at first, both unusually on guard with one another. Maorilan making sure his loyal knight knew his honor was intact, and offered him the apology his honor was due. And it was supremely awkward, the two never before being so at odds. But they could not wait for their hurt to pass, because more reports came in. The situation developing in the pass was too dire, and required them to discuss strategy.

And Maorilan was forced to hold silent as Sir Laigan brutally presented the situation to him.

There were almost a thousand elves.

There were tens of thousands of ondilaan.

There were barely three hundred of them, in all the Serensea.

Maorilan stayed on the roof that second night, exhaustion taking him from time to time. Waking whenever the thunder reached new heights, he watched the lights continue to flash and flare with an almost wild abandon. And he listened to the thunder’s constant roll, every now and then reaching a violent crescendo that battered itself upon the Hold.

It aged him.

Tessa worried, calling for Sella to add some peace to his night, but Pawdrig barely heard. The woman’s sweet voice did everything it could to distract him, to lull him into returning to his chambers and cease bearing witness on the roof. And he almost succumbed to it, catching himself focusing his attention on the beautiful singer as he had never done with a woman before.

But he would not be moved, not be lured away to some soft rest while an army of strangers battled to protect his lands. He watched the growing camp of elven wounded, the healers there still refusing to break their silence. The broken bodies of the elves, staggering out of the pass, a testament to how boldly they fought to fulfill the treaty between their two nations. Being healed in camp, they bravely marched their way back out, returning to the horrors and death that awaited them in the pass.

And all the while, the battle only increased in intensity while the night wore on.

With the coming dawn, the battle continued into its third day. The constant thundering rose and fell in waves, its flashing no longer able to be seen while the reports came in. And those reports told tales describing a saga of doom.

His guard reported hundreds upon hundreds of ondilaan dead; an ocean of blood and gore that saturated the land. The elven army had been reduced by half at least, and were sending all they could to the healers in the rear. Continuing to fight on, they were battling in shifts, using their magics, the magic of the elves, the likes of which no one had ever seen. Their magic and their lives were being spent upon the battlefield, being used by Alaris to protect the Hold. And they were winning, while slowly moving forward.

But at what cost?

Maorilan watched as more and more broken bodies staggered out of the pass, and couldn’t take the knowledge that these strangers were doing for him what he could not. He called for his knight, arguing eloquently and sometimes passionately with Sir Laigan to find something they could do, some way to assist the elves. And a pact was made between them as the sun fully rose over the ‘Peaks, its welcoming light at odds with the destruction Maorilan knew was hidden there.

Pawdrig agreed to remain in the Hold. To hold true to his oath, he sent his guard and conscripts to evacuate the elven wounded, to assist in whatever way they could. They were to take no refusal, to offer whatever assistance they were able to, and to do it in the face of silence if need be. They would help despite the elves’ refusal to talk, no matter the opposition they faced.

Maorilan watched from the tower as over half his forces marched off into the pass. Three quarters of the remaining Redtail Guard, only fifty men, accompanied by a hundred conscripts under Arnet’s command. They left to accomplish whatever they could, marching out under the morning sun.

Every supply he could spare was loaded onto anything capable of moving it. He sent his remaining wagons under Master Girdly’s command. The pale, portly gnome under orders to collect the wounded, and to remove them while honoring the dead. To do whatever they could, no matter how little, to assuage his guilt.

And Pawdrig watched them, watched them leave from atop his tower, feeling very, very alone.

Now three days on top of his tower, Maorilan fell into a troubled sleep as his forces departed. Tessa and Sella guarded his peace. The two women stood by the door on the tower’s roof, only letting people through if it was absolutely necessary. But the few souls they agreed to let through took one look at their exhausted lord and departed, looking for Sir Laigan instead to not disturb his rest.

Sella stayed by Maorilan’s side, stroking his arm from time to time when he cried out in his sleep. Singing softly, her presence allowed him to rest, her song penetrating his dreams while soothing his troubled mind. Tessa looking on, taking notice of the concern on Sella’s face and the care that she showed.

It was sunset that third day when a tremendous explosion sounded from the pass. Maorilan leapt awake, startling Sella who was dozing by his side. But Pawdrig paid her no mind, leaning against the crenelations as an apocalypse of sound battered against him. It was as if the world itself was coming apart, accompanied by flares detonating in the sky.

The sounds went on, a deep basso hymn that beat itself brutally upon his chest. The tower vibrated, tiny bits of sand dancing amongst the stones, before it stopped. And then a pregnant silence descended, a pall of unease settling over the land. Some instinct warned him to take shelter, telling him that something terrible was yet to come.

“Take cover!” he screamed, pulling Sella down to shelter her with his body, the singer crying out as she hit the hard stone. Tessa dove to the ground beside them. The few guards and servants on the tower’s roof hesitated, not understanding his fear.

“Get down!” he shouted as a sound felt but not heard, slowly washed out of the pass. Then there was a cacophonous sound unlike anything in anyone’s experience, a roaring that assaulted their senses, a sound that ravaged their souls.

There was a blinding light as if the sun suddenly rested upon the earth, followed by a tremendous heat that strengthened and grew. It built to eliminate even the memory of shadow, daylight shining through despite their eyes being closed. And then it winked out, the darkness so complete it was as if he was surrounded by nothing at all. His only point of reference was the body he held beneath him, and the frightened cries of his men.

Pawdrig shivered as the heat washed by, staying as he was for many long moments as the world trembled beneath him. The tower shook, purple afterimages staining his vision despite his eyes being closed. The ground’s upheaval eventually became less violent over time, before it ended altogether, and an eerie quiet settled over the land.

For the first time in days Maorilan could see the stars, not washed out by flashing lights from the pass. He rolled to his knees and looked around his demesne, not seeing any immediate damage. But as the light of the setting sun cast its final rays upon the Sunset Peaks, a strange cloud began to rise among them. Expanding slowly, it concealed the familiar eastern peaks with its smoky haze while a chill wind blew over the Hold.

It was that night that worried him the most, that silent evening without a sound. There was no thunder, no lighting, only the typical sounds of evening accompanying the kellits that cried their calls upon the breeze. He obeyed his bargain, staying to his tower and sending riders to discover what had occurred, but he knew that it would be at least tomorrow before a thing was known. And the lack of knowledge troubled him, keeping him awake long into the night.

He stayed there on the rooftop that third night, bearing witness as the sun rose on the fourth day. A dirty and soiled man reported that the elven army was returning, marching slowly back up the pass. The army was still refusing all communications, but here and there an individual would nod their way. A simple offering of thanks for finding and protecting their wounded, for treating their dead with respect.

It was midmorning the fourth day when his forces returned, their uniforms covered in a fine dust. A pale and subdued Arnet reported the elven army was following along behind, maybe a half a day at most. His wild eyes were tainted with fear as he described the magics he’d witnessed. Reporting the battle culminated in a destruction so bright, a man was blind for many minutes afterwards.

Arnet described the elven army pushing his troops before them, not allowing them to remain and observe what had been done. A thick gray cloud now filled the pass that coated everything, both tasting and smelling of rock and earth. And based on the sounds he’d heard, at least one, if not more, landslides had overtaken the pass. But there was no way to know for sure. And while pointing with one shaking finger on the map, Arnet indicated the final clash had occurred at the narrowest point, right beyond the mine.

Maorilan dismissed him, standing in silence for long hours as he pondered what he had been told. Reports came and went, the men reporting dozens of elven wounded that had been saved. The elven dead they’d been thanked for returning, finally breaking the silence of the healer’s camp. But even with this crack in place, Maorilan remained where he was until the elven army exited the pass.

And when it did, his heart sunk.

The army was a paltry remainder of its original might. And the damage was evident from even this distance as the army marched itself into view. Maybe a quarter remained, maybe more, but those that did brought Maorilan’s heart low.

Shattered units descended the pass, dirty and torn, limping in time to the calls of their commanders. He saw torn flags before empty formations, not a single elf remaining except for those solitary banners. And the elves who carried those standards stood proud, marching defiantly alone amongst the injured host.

He saw the banner marking Alaris’s point, and watched it break from the army to approach the Hold. Maorilan sternly ordered that no one was to interrupt or delay the prince’s approach, warily eyeing his shattered troops. And he announced that they would meet any demand the prince would make, no matter how burdensome, for what the elves had done.

Pawdrig descended his tower for the first time in days, striding with Sir Laigan through the hall. He called for food and wine to be brought, deciding he would meet Alaris outside his walls and not force the man to come to him. And descending the outer stair, he passed quickly through the courtyard, exiting through the tunnel to the gate and stood there, watching as Alaris’s banner approached.

“Nessa Farlesdar,” he said as the prince came to within speaking distance. “I … I have no knowledge of what you’ve done. But anything you need, anything you require, it is yours for the asking.” He grabbed a goblet of wine, offering it to the prince from his own hand. “Anything, Alaris. You have but to ask.”

The prince eyed him and the cup he offered, his expression flat and cold. There was a burn across his cheek, and his cloak was stained with blood. A circlet was now upon his head, something that had never been there before, lending him a regal air. But he said nothing as he met Maorilan’s eyes, staring into them in a long, uncomfortable silence.

“I require nothing, Lord Maorilan,” the prince eventually said, his voice tightly controlled. “I have fulfilled my obligation, the obligation set forth by treaty between the Vale and your king. I will be travelling west, through your lands. Do not attempt to stop me. Good day,” he said, anger and fury coloring his words. Then the prince visibly gathered himself and turned to go, his party turning with him.

“Nessa Farlesdar? Nessa Farlesdar! What did you do?”

The prince stopped, not even turning to face him. “Do? I protected those I am treaty bound to do so.”

The prince’s anger was palpable, radiating off of him in almost visible waves. And Maorilan was suddenly on guard, feeling some unknown threat, some invisible pall lying over this group.

“Please … Would you tell me what happened?” Maorilan paused, the prince not answering. “Alaris ... Please … What have you done?”

The prince turned, eyeing him for another interminable moment, obviously fighting for control. “The ondilaan numbered in the tens of thousands and had control of the pass. I had further received reports that the Timeless Throne is under siege. Your country is fighting for its life, and my duty to the Vale was clear.” The prince took a deep breath.

“But I cannot … I will not … stay to defend you, locked here for some unknown amount of time after certain things have come to light. Therefore, I resolved one obligation so that I may turn to the other.

“If the ondilaan cannot reach you, then you are no longer at risk, and my duty to the Vale is fulfilled. Therefore, I made certain they could not reach you.” He stared hard at Maorilan, and then turned to leave once more.

“Alaris, how?”

“I received a report last evening, sometime around sunset. The party I dispatched has found your wayward commander,” he said, not answering Pawdrig’s question. “You will be relieved to know the commander’s forces are resting in Silverlake, apparently replenishing their supplies.”

“Alaris, what did you do?”

“Ended the threat, Pawdrig,” the prince snarled, eyes blazing.

“How?”

“The ondilaan occupied the pass. They cannot reach you if there is no pass. So, I destroyed the pass.”

“By the gods …” Sir Laigan breathed as the prince continued.

“You may find it difficult to mine your salt. I used the mountain above the mine,” he added, almost offhandedly. “But the mountain succeeded in sealing the pass, burying the ondilaan quite nicely.”

“You destroyed a mountain,” Pawdrig stated, stunned.

“Yes, Pawdrig,” Alaris replied. “As I will destroy anyone who gets in the way of me finding my wife.

“Goodbye, Pawdrig Maorilan, last of your line, head of a childless family, and Lord of Redtail Hold.”

Alaris’s anger swirled in his eyes.

“You are on your own.” The prince pronounced his last with an alarming finality, then strode off to join his army.

The army that was ready and awaiting his commands.

Afterword

Hello again!

Thank you again for taking the time to read Silverlake. I hope you enjoyed the story of Tommy, Donnor, Ari, Mikus, Saress, and all the other characters. If it kept you entertained, I’ve done my job. But if you liked it, I am more than pleased.

Sorry/not-sorry about the cliffhanger there at the end. (Insert a smile and a wink emoji here, lol.) I write as the story takes me, and this one took me right to the edge of that cliff. It’s driven a couple of my beta readers batty with the way the story ended, but there will eventually be a reprieve. The prologue and first chapter of book three have already been written. And here’s a hint: it starts off with a bang.

It’s taken me roughly a year to finish this book from beginning to end, and there are a lot of people I’d like to thank. First, I’d like to thank my wife and children for putting up with me. I disappear into the computer for long hours, sometimes days and weeks at a time, and their understanding is key. Without their understanding the story would never have come out, and it’s something I’ll never be able to repay. My love to you all.

In no particular order, I’d like to thank the beta readers who helped me this time around. Jodie B puts up with me on almost a daily basis, and I value her opinion massively. Jaron “more boats” K is the best ‘hole-finder’ I know, and his sense of humor and the way he harasses me is exactly what I need. Finally, Eric M is my finisher, his ability to look at the story as a whole as it progresses, and really nail down the main issues, is incredible. Thank you all.

A special thanks to Tiffany S, my editor, who is incredibly easy to work with. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions; I know there were a lot.

And finally, Irene Zeleskou, my cover artist. Out of all the compliments I’ve received, the ones about her art are always the most frequent. Her ability to take my descriptions and turn them into the incredible pictures you see are parallel to none. Thank you for putting up with me; your talent is beyond words.

Please feel free to visit the Facebook page: Resthaven – The Book. I’ll eventually be updating its name to ‘The Chronicle of the Troop’, but that hasn’t happened yet. It’s for the discussion group for all the books in this series, and updates about new books underway. I try my best to update it as notable things happen, and I check it almost every day. So, if you want to contact me, feel free to reach out to me there.

And finally, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. I’m an independent author, and your reviews are important in telling me how I’ve done. I read every single one, and try to reply when I can.

Thank you again, one and all,

Colin

Character List

I think pretty much everyone who plays a role in a story should have a name, but naming so many people often leads to confusion. I realize this, so I am including this list here for your reference.

Characters are arranged geographically by where they appear in the story, or where they are from. Then, roughly in the order they appear. I’ve included all of the characters from Resthaven since almost all are referenced in some way, and you may be interested to know that this is the same list I reference when I write, barring some notes I won’t share.

Don’t read anything into the order, or how some characters have surnames while others do not. Look for members of the troop in the troop listing first. And I included some unnamed characters in the troop’s listing for completeness of the ranks.

Main

Mikus Gemhands: Dwarf, from Khagatom. Smith in Sirikii. Prospector for Clan Gemhands. Husband of Bekka, father of Dawd. Logger in Lakeside.

Donnor (Silverspear): Human, from Lakeside. Unknown origin. Smithy worker in Sirikii. Caravan leader in Sirikii. Father of Tommy. Husband of Yella. Fisherman in Lakeside.

Arisaylia (Ari) Saliantrea: Elf, from the Vale. Daughter of Na’Tor Saliantrea, Lord Wi’Jitikiin of Sirikii. Mother of Tommy and Di’ii. Betrothed to Alaris Farlesdar of Sirikii. Seamstress in Lakeside.

Tommy (Tomilanthus): Half-elf, from Lakeside. Son of Donnor and Arisaylia. Fisherman in Lakeside.

Lakeside

Bekka Gemhands: Dwarf, from Khagatom. Wife of Mikus.

Dawd Gemhands: Dwarf. Son of Mikus and Bekka.

Mrs. Sweetflour: Human from Lakeside.

Di’ii: Elf. Daughter of Arisaylia and Alaris Farlesdar.

Mrs. Ratlaf: Human from Lakeside. Baker.

Yella: Human from Lakeside. Wife of Donnor.

Mr. Geller: Human from Lakeside. Farmer.

Mr. Silvertongue: Human from Lakeside. Farmer.

Dira Greentree: Human from Lakeside. Housewife.

Faltor Greentree: Human from Lakeside. Son of Dira.

Sella: Human from Lakeside. Barmaid.

Mr. Hart: Human from Lakeside. Storyteller. Tavern owner and brewer in Lakeside.

Mistle: Human from Lakeside. Seamstress.

Lonny Tarbrook: Human from Lakeside.

Girl Tuulhod: Human from Lakeside. Sister to Nelt.

Nelt Tuulhod: Human from Lakeside.

Mrs. Gelcrest: Human from Lakeside.

Redtail Hold

Keris: Human from Redtail Hold. Guardsman.

Arnet: Human from Redtail Hold. Commander of the conscripts. Swordmaster.

Hortan: Human from Tatdavarr. Conscript.

Daris Sintletin: Halfling from Redtail Hold. Innkeeper.

Unris: Halfling from Redtail Hold. Works at the inn.

Jader: Gnome from Redtail Hold. Healer.

Sir Laigan: Human from Redtail Hold. Knight of the order of Pa’din. Captain of the Guard.

Pawdrig Maorilan: Human from Redtail Hold. Lord of Redtail Hold.

Master Girdly: Gnome from Redtail Hold. Head of Girdly Trading House. Merchant.

Hesia Durn: Human from Redtail Hold. Mage.

Pipit Brightleaf: Sprite from Spritehome.

Tintafel Alarion: Elf of Sirikii.

Saress Alarion: Half-elf from Sirikii. Elf/Askilat hybrid. Pathfinder. Ward of Tintafel.

Kored: Dwarf from Redtail Hold. Armorer.

Sergeant Tardook: Human from Redtail Hold. Member of the Redtail Guard.

Heller: Human from Redtail Hold. Member of the Redtail Guard.

Resthaven

Sergeant Garret Moran: Human Guardsman from Redtail Hold.

Sergeant Terrance Oldsby: Human from Redtail Hold.

Taylin Ilden: Human from Resthaven. Midwife.

Jarrod Tarr: Human from Resthaven. Innkeeper.

Martol Tarr: Human from Resthaven. Innkeeper's Son.

Pari: Human from Resthaven.

Hibold: Halfling from Resthaven. Cattle handler.

Rarton: Human from Resthaven. Smith.

Valen family: Humans from Resthaven. Tanners.

Walp Calz: Human from Resthaven. Logger.

Jaltol family: Gnomes from Resthaven.

Bunlip family: Gnomes from Resthaven.

Canlen. Human from Resthaven.

The Vale

Na’Tor Saliantrea: Elf of Sirikii. Lord Wi’Jitikiin. Father of Arisaylia.

Lord Farlesdar: Elf of Sirikii. Lord Wi’Jitikiin.

Alaris Farlesdar: Elf of Sirikii. Son of Lord Farlesdar. Betrothed to Arisaylia. Father of Di’ii.

Falia: Elf of Sirikii. Maid to Arisaylia

Erella. Elf of the Vale. Pathfinder.

Salia. Elf of the Vale. Pathfinder.

Varmen’s Shoal

Ahton: Sprite from the Spire.

Tonat: Sprite from the Spire.

Halbaad Garr: Human from Varmen’s Shoal. Retired sergeant of the Redtail Guard

Torin: Human from Varmen’s Shoal. Retired corporal from of the Redtail Guard.

Alaris’s Army

S’tol Da’an: Elf of the Vale. Master of the college.

S’tol Batari: Elf of the Vale. Master of the college.

Silverlake

Shandii: Gnome.

Alantin Ben’gall: Human. Monk of the Spire.

Donnor’s Troop

Starting Strength: 35: 18 spear, 12 bow + 5 admin

Ending Strength: 49: 24 spear, 20 bow + 5 admin

Admin

Donnor.

Ari.

Tommy.

Alarat: Gnome. Animal handler.

Camm: Gnome. Animal trainer.

Correts x2

Artock

The ch’ten

Dap. Sprite.

Ahton: Sprite Patriarch.

Tonat: Sprite Matron.

Child: Sprite.

Chabat: Sprite.

Itak: Sprite.

Sprite

Sprite

Sprite

Sprite

Sprite

Sprite

Archers

Saress Alarion: Half-elf, Elf/Askilat hybrid.

Laren: Human.

Fald: Human.

Ty: Halfling.

Petal Valen: Human.

Immer: Human.

Lari: Sprite.

Rast: Sprite.

Avad: Gnome.

First Rank

Mikus: Dwarf.

Tak: Halfling.

Karn: Dwarf.

Turred: Dwarf.

Nalin: Halfling.

Ladig: Gnome.

Dorn: Human.

Kordin Jaltol: Gnome.

Feya Bunlip: Gnome.

Deya Bunlip: Gnome.

Arbet: Human.

Second rank

Keris: Human.

Gart: Half Orc.

Haleran: Human.

Martok: Human. Leatherworker.

Hartok: Human.

Canner: Human.

Sollip: Human.

Larn Calz: Human.

Werin: Human.

Caynen: Human.

Rordin: Human.

Pronunciation Guide

IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) pronunciation guide

I’m providing this guide to help readers pronounce the various foreign languages in this book. I hope it helps.

An important note here: Race-specific languages will usually be written in italics. Otherwise, assume the words are in the common tongue.

And a caveat: I’m not an expert in IPA. Please be generous and understanding of any mistakes I make. It’s difficult to convey words I hear clearly in my head into IPA format for you to try and understand.

Common Tongue:

The common tongue will be written as US English, with a few quirks. Most of those quirks revolve around the inclusion of UK spelling in some of the words. However, there are two notable items regarding pronunciation that stood out as I wrote.

Two vowels of the same type together pronounce the short vowel sound of that letter, but extended or drawn out.

For example, “tuulhod” would be shown in IPA as “tŭ:l-hǒd” with the “u” sound drawn out.

An apostrophe when used in the common tongue denotes a distinct pause or breath in the pronunciation of a single word.

For example, Sir Laigan who is a knight of Pa’din. The word “Pa’din” is pronounced with two distinct syllables separated by the apostrophe: “pa” and “din”.

Elven / Elvish

An apostrophe denotes an extremely short pause or break in the pronunciation and sounding out of a single word, separating syllables within that single word.

An apostrophe in elvish does not denote a distinct break in pronunciation, or a breath, between two or more distinct and separate words. So, if you see a long string of characters with apostrophes thrown in, as long as there are no spaces in there, the entire thing is one, singular, elven word.

A vowel preceding an apostrophe is always pronounced with the long vowel sound.

So, “e’a” would be pronounced “EEE-ahh”

A “J” following an apostrophe produces the “ZH” sound, which is an uncommon sound in US English. The ZH sound is the same sound the “s” makes in the words “vision” or “measure”.

Unlike English, two vowels separated by a consonant does not automatically make the first vowel have a long vowel sound. As a rule of thumb, and forewarned that there are exceptions, the first vowel should be pronounced with the short vowel sound in these instances. The vowel following the consonant in this instance is also typically not silent.

Therefore, an elf would pronounce the English word “ate” as ‘ah-teh’; or, “bacon” as ‘bah-kon’.

When there are two vowels together, the first vowel is pronounced with the long vowel sound while the second with the short vowel sound.

Therefore, an elf would pronounce the English word “team” as ‘tee-am’.

An “I” followed by another vowel always causes the “I” to be pronounced with a long “E” sound.

For example, an elf would pronounce the English word “lariat” as ‘lahr-ee-aht’.

Two I’s together (ii) produce a single long “E” sound.

So, hypothetically, you could spell the English word “free” as ‘frii’ in elven to produce the same sounds.

A “Y” immediately following a vowel always signifies that the preceding vowel is pronounced with its long vowel sound. Then, the “Y” itself is silent.

So, you could also hypothetically spell the English word “free” as ‘frey’ in elven to get the same pronunciation.

The English word “blight” could hypothetically be spelled ‘bliyt’ in elven to generate the same pronunciation.

A “Y” between two consonants is typically pronounced with the short “I” sound.

You could spell “bit” or “mit” as ‘byt’ or ‘myt’ in elvish to generate the same pronunciation.

A “W” between two vowels is typically considered silent.

However, elves have keener hearing than you or I, and there is a sound associated with a “W” that we cannot hear. Again, I want to stress that this sound is not able to be heard by most listeners who do not have an elf’s acute hearing.

Elves pronounce and hear a “trill” or a “rolling sound” similar to how the letter “R” is rolled on the roof of the mouth in certain situations with Spanish pronunciation.

A “Y” is considered a vowel when following this rule.

Two “L’s” together make a single “L” sound, and the sound is drawn out longer than with a single letter.

It is produced by the tongue sliding along the roof of the mouth from the soft to hard palates. However, emphasis is not automatically placed on the longer sound.

In IPA shorthand, this is depicted as a colon after the L, i.e., “l:” or “L:”, similar to how elongated vowels are depicted.

Examples of elven and their IPA pronunciation:

Di’ii………………..: Dī-ē

Arisaylia…………...: Ār-ǝ-sā-lēă

Tomilanthus……….: tǒm-ǐ-lăn-θŭs

Sirikii………………: sǝ-rē-kē

Wi’Jitikiin………….: wǝ-ʒĭ-tĭ-kēn

Awyrllyn…………...: Ā❬r❭-l:ĭn

Nisa………………...: Nē-sǝ 

Saliantrea…………...: Săl-ē-ăn-trēǝ

Ilari…………………: Ĭ-lăr-ē

Tairi………………...: Tā-ĭrē

Dwarven / Dwarvish

Dwarvish, in my mind, reminds me of German, Austrian, and Eastern European languages in its very glottal and ‘back of the throat’ pronunciation in comparison to my US English. And before anyone gets upset, I have Eastern European roots. I heard languages like these growing up, and this is not a criticism of those countries or languages. The dwarvish words are pronounced as they are as written, just with that extra ‘back of the throat sound’ thrown in for good measure.

For example, Mikus (MY-cuss) comes originally from Khagatom, the kingdom of the dwarves. Khagatom is pronounced basically like it looks as ‘kag-ah-tome’. But there’s an extra guttural sound associated with the “G” in the word.

Kăg-ǝ-toʊm

Examples of dwarven and their IPA pronunciation:

Ak………………: Ăk

Tom…………….: Tŏm

Gar……………...: Găr

Turak      ………….: Tu:-răk

Marr…………….: Măr

Ken……………...: Kǝn

Drob…………….: Drŏb

Tonn…………….: Tŏn

Garn……………..: Găr

Dak……………...: Dăk

Tal……………….: Tăl

Nagan……………: Nă-găn

Dee………………: Dē

Mo’jon…………...: Mō-jŏn

On………………..: Ŏn

A note on Mikus’s speech: Mikus speaks in a very idiosyncratic way, often cutting off and/or slurring words together. This is due to the thick brogue of the Khagatom dwarves which he carries over into the common tongue. The many misspelled words and strange apostrophe placements are an attempt to depict his unique dialect.

In most instances, the apostrophe indicates dropped letters or where the word is shortened or slurred into the next one as he speaks. Examples of this are throughout the story, but an extreme example of this type of depiction would be the Redtail Armorer’s slurring of “Aye’me’laird” (Aye, my Lord) and “Ge’over’thar” (Get over there) in book one.

Sprite Tongue

Sprite tongue is a language of nature. Think of the chittering and barking of squirrels, squawks and calls of little birds, chirps and screams of chipmunks, whistling calls of groundhogs, etc. Anything that is found in grasslands and forests you can associate with sounds you might hear from sprites as they speak.

Since there’s no real effective way to depict various animal sounds in text, I’ve fallen on using words like “chittering,” “whistling,” or “sprite speak” to depict them. Feel free to search online to hear what the above animal sounds are like for reference. But there are a few sprite words that I type out because of their importance in the text.

Assume that anything said in sprite follows US English pronunciation guidelines. However, also assume that it is either said very quickly to sound like chittering, or slurred or whistled to sound like some animal call.

Examples of sprite tongue and their IPA pronunciation:

● Ch’ten…………….: ʧ-tǝn

● Achee…………….: Ă-ʧē

● Tee’wa…………...: Tē-wă

● Ak’ta’tak………….: Ăk-tă-tăk

Final Thought

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