by Bryant Reil
Elf Doubt
Bryant Reil
Table of Contents
Chapter One: Order in Disarray
Chapter Two: Forget-Me-Nows
Chapter Three: Digging for Dunkin
Chapter Four: Tick-Talk
Chapter Five: The Leshy You Know
Chapter Six: Desperate Measures
Chapter Seven: The Grootslang’s Lair
Chapter Eight: Usurping the Stone
Chapter Nine: Hearts and Minds
Chapter Ten: Laenith
Chapter Eleven: Unwelcome Company
Chapter Twelve: Under and Out
Chapter Thirteen: Undine Love and Jungle Fever
Chapter Fourteen: The Ballad of Kinsel King
Chapter Fifteen: Unlikely Discovery
Chapter Sixteen: Information Overload
Chapter Seventeen: A Pig among Peacocks
Chapter Eighteen: The Walls Have Ears
Chapter Nineteen: Wasting Time
Chapter Twenty: Labyrinth
Chapter Twenty-One: Heart of Darkness, Song of Light
Chapter Twenty-Two: Forgive and Forget
Chapter Twenty-Three: Up
Chapter Twenty-Four: Trysts and Turns
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Break-In
Chapter Twenty-Six: Wedding Avowed
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Fall
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Goodbye
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Unceremonious
Chapter Thirty: Devil’s Bastion
Chapter Thirty-One: Magmanimous
Chapter Thirty-Two: Flames of Wrath
Chapter Thirty-Three: Prison Breakers
Chapter Thirty-Four: Playing with Fire
Chapter Thirty-Five: Chance Encounters
Chapter Thirty-Six: Dealing with Devils
Chapter One
Order in Disarray
The sun glinted off leafless trees encrusted in hoarfrost but offered little warmth. Though his fingers were numb and the water in his canteen frozen, Herleif didn’t mind the cold. What he did mind was the failure in others to follow directions. His current passenger, a young elf woman named Kyla, sat next to him on the driver’s seat clutching a large bag woven from bark. For several minutes he tried to ignore her as she inhaled with her lips drawn back over her teeth, and then exhaled in loud bursts as her breath condensed in the air.
“What are you doing?” he snapped.
“Trying to warm up my lips.”
Herleif grunted. “Just put your scarf back on.”
“I won’t be able to talk if I have a scarf over my mouth.”
“How unfortunate.”
Kyla was an arboreal elf. A tree-dweller. Friendly enough sorts, though their pale skin made them look sickly. This one had shamefully short brown hair that didn’t even meet her shoulders. She was dressed in a thick deer-hide coat, only now had her hood pulled back and scarf loosened so it draped across her chest.
“You’re a gray elf, right?” she asked. “Myrkalfar. I’ve never seen one before. I have been to Alfheim, though.”
“Good for you.” There hadn’t been many Myrkalfar in Alfheim since the fall of King Yridis, but he didn’t care to give a history lesson. “You should be sitting in the coach.”
“I know. But Grizzlesnout used to let me sit up here. Where is he, anyway?”
“He died.”
The girl’s face and chest deflated. “Oh. That’s too bad. It wasn’t Erebus, was it?”
Herleif had lost a few of his own friends and family during the Long Night. Some had disappeared, and whether they had been killed or joined the dark forces, he didn’t know. They were unpredictable sorts. “He died in his sleep. Peaceful.” He doubted that were true, but it was a comfortable lie.
“That’s too bad. Good way to do it, though. Peaceful, I mean. My name’s Kyla.”
Herleif nodded. He already knew her name but wasn’t going to explain why.
When he didn’t reply, she persisted. “And yours?”
He sighed. “Herleif. And you wouldn’t be so cold in the coach.”
“Fine. I can take a hint.”
“Takes you long enough,” he grumbled.
She climbed on top of the carriage and sat above the door, swinging her legs over the side. “Would you like me to grab you a blanket? You must be freezing.”
“I’m fine.”
She opened her mouth but shut it again. She tossed her bag down through the window before sliding through herself. Herleif waited until he heard the window-latch snap shut before returning his focus to the frozen tracks on the road.
***
Bremnos shook his patched hair free of the clinging mist. His lone eye was aimed at Dassidin, capital city of Osmaris. From his vantage on the hilltop he could see the tops of buildings and nebulous lights as the city awoke, though in this limited visibility he could see none of the Ophilim. They were snake-folk, one-time enemies and now allies of Bremnos’ own minotaur clan, the Kulgoth.
Heavy footsteps approached from behind. “Looks peaceful enough, doesn’t it?” General Agrimarch, unusually intelligent and perceptive for an ogre, pressed a hand on Bremnos’ shoulder.
Bremnos nodded. “Yes, but sickness often lies beneath the skin.” He pinched a wad of silage from the pouch at his belt and held it over his shoulder for Agrimarch, but the ogre didn’t take it and Bremnos tucked it into his own cheek.
His hairs stood on end as a loud zap charged the air behind him. He and Agrimarch turned and saluted King Oberon, whose small fairy body sparked with arcs of blue lightning. The King offered a half-salute in return before turning to shout orders for the soldiers to do a sweep of the hill.
Only a thousand soldiers accompanied them. Formidable, but not useful as a show of force against a city as large as Dassidin. This was a diplomatic mission intended to ease tension, despite reports of violence against city leaders. Bremnos thought it foolish for the King to come on this errand, but Oberon was following the advice of the High Seer. Bremnos was annoyed that mystical counsel was replacing tactics and reason.
“What is the threat?” Bremnos asked Agrimarch before turning back to face the city.
Agrimarch coughed. “Small riots, so far. Nothing worth our involvement, but High Seer Imel predicts this place as the spark of a greater insurrection.”
“Why?” Bremnos tried his best to avoid a tone of disdain.
“Why did he predict an insurrection? Or why will it start here? The answer to the first, is that it’s his job to predict such things. The answer to the second, is that the denizens of Dassidin don’t believe the official reports on Erebus.”
Bremnos nodded. He, too, was disturbed at Oberon and Titania’s decision to tell the world they had defeated Erebus. The truth was they didn’t know what happened to end the Long Night and were trying to get everyone to return to their normal lives while they sorted it out. But normal life was not a possibility for the many who had lost friends and family.
Agrimarch continued. “I requested bringing diplomats rather than soldiers, but Imel insisted. Is he trying to start a war?”
“You don’t have much confidence in the High Seer.” Perhaps Agrimarch shared Bremnos’ concerns. There was some comfort to that.
“Should I? He was no help against Erebus. Why should we listen to him now?”
“We’ll go in and have some words with whoever’s leading this hoo-ha.” Bremnos slapped Agrimarch on the shoulder. “We may not be diplomats, but you’re a civil and convincing sort.”
Agrimarch chuckled. “Never been called civil. And your face – why, it’ll make ‘em shed their skins.”
Bremnos pressed a finger against his empty eye socket. “Point taken. Civil, you are not.”
There was a clamor of wood and metal as a soldier push
ing a wagon of spears slipped on the wet grass and sent his load onto the ground. Bremnos swallowed his silage. “We’re bringing a lot of weapons for peace talks.”
“Those aren’t here on my orders,” Agrimarch growled. “And for whatever mad reason, Oberon tells me we are to leave them when this is finished.”
***
“Aethelwyne!” Titania snapped. “You mustn’t sit on the King’s throne.”
Titania, currently in her diminutive fairy-sized form, sat on the arm of her own throne. This was Aethelwyne’s first time sitting with Titania in Hearings, and she was already overstepping her authority.
“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Aethelwyne, a sprite with fiery hair and wings of red and gold, rose and curtsied before striding to Titania’s side and stood with her hands behind her hips. She was a bit smaller than Titania in her natural size, but seemed to prefer her larger form, now looming over the Queen. It was rude to do so, by tradition, but a principle that made little sense and not one Titania cared to enforce.
“If you sit to judge in my absence, you may sit in my throne. It is the Seat of the Magistrate. But you shall not be attending to any of the King’s duties while he is away. We may, if you like, bring you your own seat and set it next to the dais.”
Aethelwyne offered a gentle bow. “No thank you, Your Majesty. I shall wait until I may sit with the proper authority of the Royal Court.”
The girl spoke more formally than either the King or Queen.
Titania turned to her Captain of the Court Guard. “Very well. Vas, you may open the doors.”
Vas was one of the lizard-folk, though raised by gnomes and carried many of their mannerisms. He bowed low and pulled open the heavy double door to the throne room. On the other side of the door stood a line of supplicants seeking answers, or justice, or quite often voicing complaints. They were monitored by the red-bearded dwarf Rust, Master of the Halls, who would have checked them for weapons and poisons before allowing them in queue. First in line stood a gorgon, the snakes on his head writhing.
Titania grew to her larger form and nestled into her seat She turned to Aethelwyne and whispered. “This is Anh-Bul, Director of Equinox. You’ll see him now and again.”
Rust stepped back and looked away from Anh-Bul. He frequently complained in private about allowing the gorgon into the Royal Court. His petrifying gaze was a weapon that couldn’t be confiscated. The Master of the Halls looked back at Vas, who had an equal displeasure of the Director’s visits. Vas looked back to Titania, and as much as Titania didn’t want to speak with the gorgon, he would never harm her. She nodded to Vas, who nodded to Rust, who nodded to Anh-Bul and beckoned him inside.
Anh-Bul, wary of the guards, was careful not to meet the Queen’s eyes as he strode to the throne and took a knee. “Pardon, Your Majesty, but I was to meet with the King.”
“He is away. You may report to me.”
Anh-Bul looked irritated, as he always did when she dealt with him. He seemed to prefer Oberon, but whether that be his perception that the King outranked the Queen, or that he simply found Titania distasteful or intimidating, she didn’t know. She planned to ask him one day and watch him writhe like the snakes protruding from his head.
She nestled against the back of her throne. “Speak or be gone. I have a busy day.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. I am to report that Kyla Nim has confirmed her return to Equinox for the coming term. It was my responsibility to obtain a rubbing she made of one of the stones that was being sought by Erebus. I now have it.”
Anh-Bul pulled out a parchment which was tucked in his belt. Aethelwyne stepped forward to take it, but Titania held her back until Vas took it, inspected it, and handed it over. “In case it is cursed, or a trap,” she explained.
“Elial Ciana gave us the original stone. Why did Oberon want the rubbing?” Titania unrolled it for a look, and as she did, she saw Anh-Bul’s eyes widen as he looked at the back.
“What is the problem?” she asked.
“What? Oh. No-nothing, Your Majesty.”
Titania slapped the parchment onto the arm of her throne. “It was most certainly something. Tell me.”
Anh-Bul was arrogant, but he wasn’t stupid. He was desperate for the King’s praise and wouldn’t get it by lying to the Queen.
“It’s the note,” he choked. “I just remembered something. Kyla’s copy had writing on the back. This one is blank on the reverse.”
“You’re saying someone made a copy?”
“I – I don’t know, Your Majesty, but I saw Kyla Nim’s rubbing. She had written a list on the back. A shopping list, I think.”
Titania couldn’t think who would want a copy of the rubbing, aside from Erebus’ own disciples. “Who gave this to you? Was it Kyla?”
“No, Your Majesty. My assistant. He said she gave it to him.”
“Tell me about your assistant.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. His name is Marik Esilgard.”
“Keep an eye on him.” She held up the parchment. “He has seen this, then? He passed it from Kyla to you.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“I would like to know his associations. His friends and family. Where he spends his time, his hobbies, his passions. And I need to know of any other classified documents that go through his hands.”
Anh-Bul was now trembling though kept his face stoic. “Is there a problem, Your Majesty? I find him a capable assistant but if you wish him replaced I can do so.”
“No. Don't tell him anything. Just keep an eye on him and report back to me weekly.”
“As you wish. Your Majesty, is there a problem?”
“I don't know. Just do as I ask.” The Queen rolled and re-tied the parchment. “You may go.”
Anh-Bul’s head of snakes hissed as he stood, bowed, and turned to leave the room.
***
The coach jerked to a halt and Kyla sat up and rubbed her eyes. She had slept well, despite the cold, thanks to her foresight in bringing so many blankets. She looked out the window to see bare trees dusted with a light coating of snow. As there were no buildings in sight, she assumed Herleif had stopped to tend the horses.
This assumption became tarnished with doubt as an ogre covered in matted black body hair threw open the door and grabbed her by the coat. She stumbled to keep her footing as he thrust her outside. Blocking the road in front of the horses were four elves. One had a beard, so was not of pure blood, and held a sword. The other three had bows drawn and pointed at Herleif, who looked more annoyed than frightened.
The one with the beard smirked and peered at Kyla. “Ah! Just the one today? My apologies, Feirina. We shall be quick about our business and have you on your way.”
“I'm not Feirina to you,” she growled.
“Perhaps you could be, under different circumstances.” He winked. “I only mean that no one will harm you, as long as you do what we say.”
Kyla, though afraid, had defeated Erebus, god of darkness. She refused to cower to common thugs. “You’re a bandit. Don't pretend to be all polite if you don't mean it.”
Herleif chuckled.
The bearded man stepped forward, and his smirk vanished. He held the tip of his sword to Kyla's face. “If you want me to act like a bandit, I will. Do you know what a real bandit would do to a girl like you?”
Kyla swallowed. She could guess. Then the bandit smiled. “Fortunately, we are not real bandits. Simply displaced from our homes and looking to survive. Can't find food in the wild right now, can we? Not enough for our families, anyway.”
These were ordinary people who had lost their homes during Erebus' assault. They were desperate, not evil.
She reached for the small pouch tied to her belt. “Look, I'm happy to give you a bit of money, if it'll help. I don’t have much.”
The bearded elf waved her had away from her belt with his sword. “Appreciate the change in attitude, I guess. We’ll take what we need. Money’s of little use in the woods. Take out your bags.”
Kyla still had Erebus hidden inside a jar of jam. Losing him would be a disaster. She climbed up into the coach and dragged her bag to the door. She opened it, doing her best to obscure the jar, and pulled out some shirts. “It's just my clothing.”
The bandit peered closer. “I see a glint in there. Jewelry, maybe? Grab it, Bog.” The ugly ogre reached into the bag and pulled out the jar. Kyla's heart skipped, and she could feel the blood drain from her face.
“That's...uh...it's just blackberry jam. It's not even good jam.” Her voice cracked and destroyed her illusion of calm.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” The bandit leader sheathed his sword and held up his hands. Bog tossed him the jar and he nearly dropped it, which caused Kyla to gasp.
He smirked. “Something special about this jam?” he grinned. “Must be pretty good.”
He opened the lid and dipped his finger into the jar, withdrawing a gob of jam. He licked it slowly and smacked his lips. He looked up and lowered his head to one side.
“You're right. It isn't great. Still, the kids might like it.” He screwed the lid back on.
Herleif rose to his feet.
The leader's head snapped to face him. “If he moves again, shoot.”
“Give her back the jam.”
The leader fumbled over his words. “What? You're going to fight me over this? Well, we're taking it.” He tossed the jar to Bog.
Herleif's long coat whipped open and there was a thwap as the archers released their arrows. Kyla cried out and closed her eyes, but instead of shouts and gasps and the thud of a body hitting the ground, she heard silence, and then the squeak of the coach's axles and the crunch of footsteps in the snow. She peeked.
The bandits stood frozen and three arrows hovered in the air, tips pointing where Herleif had been sitting. Kyla's jar of jam sat in the air as well, only a few inches from Bog's outstretched hand. She grabbed it and tucked it in her bag, as keeping Erebus hidden was more urgent than figuring out what was happening.
Herleif raised the point of a sword to the bandit leader’s throat.
“Stop!” she screeched.
He looked back at her. “Yes?”
