by Cody Loewen
“Each family lives on a different story inside the trees,” Rayfe explains as we stand in the cramped room. “This area serves as a passage between the floors. My parents live on the third story.”
I can almost feel his excitement at seeing his parents, and I quickly push down the sadness of my own tragedies, focusing on the positive emotions that Rayfe is giving off. I follow him up the ladder, which only extends to the second story. On the other side of the second-floor landing lies another ladder, which we climb to reach our destination. Without pause, Rayfe immediately moves to the interior door, pushing it open and rushing into the room. I follow closely behind, catching the door to allow myself through as it swings back toward me.
The area inside opens into one large circular room, much bigger than I expected. Smooth wood walls greet me and the floors are covered in lush rugs woven from some type of fiber. Before I can really take in too many details, movement across the space draws my eye as a figure rises from where he was seated. Rayfe strides across the room and embraces the elven man, who must be his father. The two of them stand at the same height, with similar builds. Where Rayfe is dressed for marching and combat, however, his father looks much more casual. He wears soft cloth pants and a sleeved shirt that hangs loose enough to obscure the details of his body underneath. His dark hair is cut short, and his face shows no traces of hair. As I watch the two of them together, it strikes me that Rayfe’s father doesn’t look much older than he is, but the lifespan of elves can make that deceiving.
After a long moment, the two separate, and Rayfe turns to me, his father’s eyes following.
“Lykara, this is my father,” he announces to me happily. He turns back to his father. “Lykara was chosen as my Reaver partner.”
His father steps forward and extends his hand in greeting. I reach my own hand out to grasp his, but he grips my forearm instead, and I instinctively do the same. I can feel the strength in his grip as we maintain that position. He smiles at me, warm hazel eyes full of greeting and kindness.
“This is the ranger greeting,” he explains to me, nodding down to our locked arms. He gives me a gentle squeeze on the forearm before releasing my arm. “Nice to meet you, Lykara. I’m Ardon.”
He guides me to the table off to the side of the room, and all three of us sit down. Created from branches woven together, the chairs are simple, but surprisingly comfortable. The table is already set with dinnerware, and Ardon pours water from a pitcher in the center of the table into three wooden cups sitting in front of us. I take a drink, relishing the feeling of the fresh water sliding down my throat. Ardon leans in, placing both of his elbows on the table. He takes a deep breath and his eyes settle on Rayfe.
“Tell me everything,” he says. “I was just called back from the forest when word came that the army was marching home. I haven’t heard any news about you since you’ve been gone, and nothing about the trolls yet. I rushed straight here to wait for you.”
“Where is mother?” Rayfe asks him. “Should we wait for her to get here?”
“She was called to be part of the small skeleton ranger group to stay out and protect our borders. Her shift won’t be over until after dark. We can fill her in when she gets back.”
Rayfe nods, settling back in his chair, and begins recounting every part of our journey. He describes our time at the training grounds, where we were first introduced to war tactics, and where we became partners. He recalls our march to the valley, and the trials we went through to get there. Finally, he begins the story of the tragic battle. He tells his father about the initial slaughter of the trolls, at the apparent success of our ambush, and then the horrible defeat at the realization that the trolls had set their own trap into motion. After briefly replaying our escape and march through the woods back here, he takes a deep breath, having been talking for nearly an hour. We fall into silence, the memories weighing down on Rayfe and me, and Ardon taking time to digest all of the information.
Eventually, Ardon breaks the silence.
“That is quite the journey,” he exclaims. “While the battle ended in defeat, you still succeeded in preventing the attack here. The lives lost were not lost in vain.”
He shifts his gaze over to me and flashes a friendly smile. “Lykara, tell me about your past. How did you end up at the training grounds with Rayfe?”
Rayfe places his hand on my shoulder and gives me an encouraging look. I begin my own story. While I talk for a much shorter time, I must fight to keep my emotions in check. While I relive those events every day in my head, I have only said them out loud a couple of times, and it hasn’t gotten any easier. Once I reach the point in my story where I arrive at the training grounds, I stop, knowing that any more information I give will just be a repeat of what Rayfe has already said. Ardon sighs sympathetically.
“I’m so sorry for your tragedy, Lykara.” He says to me kindly. “I can imagine your pain. If there is anything you need from us, you have it.”
I thank him with a small smile, happy for the support of both Rayfe and his father now. Rayfe leans back in toward the table, arms crossed, both elbows resting on the table. His eyes move back and forth between mine and his father’s.
“So, what now?” he asks. “The troll threat may be eliminated for now, but where do we go from here?”
“I know I speak for both myself and your mother when I say that our duties remain with the rangers,” Ardon answers after a short pause. “We swore an oath to protect this forest and its inhabitants from all threats. Our calling is, and always will be, that.”
Rayfe nods in acknowledgement, the answer obviously unsurprising to him. After hearing him speak of his parents and the rangers as a whole, I know how much he looks up to them and what they do. He looks over at me, and I realize he expected an answer from both of us. I immediately know what course I am set on, but I take a second to think anyway, trying to list options in my head. But for me there is only one option. I meet his waiting gaze.
“My course hasn’t changed,” I answer determinedly. “My path is still to Kromm. While he is still breathing, my course will always be vengeance for my father and my village.”
“Are you sure, Lykara?” Ardon asks me gently. His tone is devoid of any condescension or reprimand. “With the trolls effectively pushed back, the threat has been eliminated for years, I expect. Are you sure you want to continue this path? The trail of vengeance is one that leads to darkness and an anger that can’t be satisfied.”
Respecting his words, I think for a moment, reflecting on what he is saying.
“I’m sure,” I answer back with conviction. “All I can think about is what that monster did to all the people I grew up with. He murdered every single one of them, or worse. I can’t get those innocent people out of my head. Besides my father, there was not a true fighter among them. We weren’t a threat to Kromm. How many other villages has he burned to the ground? How many innocent people has he slaughtered? My path of vengeance will not lead into darkness, it will end the darkness.”
Ardon nods carefully, never breaking eye contact as I talk. There is no judgement in his eyes as he listens.
“If that is your choice, and you believe your path is set, then no one can stop you,” He declares. “Always remember, Lykara, we make our own destinies. Our choices define us and set the path for our futures. I wish you luck on this journey, and I hope you shift the balance of good and evil as you desire.”
I give him an appreciative smile for the words of support and I mentally tell myself to remember his words. With the conclusion of our little philosophical conversation, Ardon shifts his focus back toward his son.
“Now it’s time for you to decide your path, son,” Ardon tells Rayfe. “Where will life take you now? You have always talked about joining the rangers. Has that time come for you?”
Rayfe is silent for several moments, the inner conflict evident on his face. Becoming a ranger was something he dreamed of, so I am not sure why this decision is so difficult for hi
m. We wait patiently for him to sort through his emotions and desires, and he eventually comes back to the present, his eyes returning to his father’s.
“My path used to be so clear,” he begins after a deep breath. He talks slowly, thinking about each word before he says it, to ensure what he is saying comes out exactly as he wants. “I always knew that I would be a ranger. There was no other path for me, besides ranger training, and joining you in the forest. But then the threat of the trolls appeared, and those plans changed. I knew my purpose was to defend the innocent, and the battlefield was the place for me to follow that calling, so I became an initiate and then a Reaver.”
Ardon and I nod as he talks, his words unsurprising to both of us. Neither one of us says anything in response to his dialogue, letting him continue uninterrupted.
“Even after I went through training and the trials that came with it, and then to the battlefield, I was still confident that I would end up back here as a ranger,” he continues. “I didn’t know how long the war would last, what the outcome would be, or what would be expected of me in the middle of it all. But I always knew I would come home when it was over and take my place beside you and mother. But sitting here now, if I were to follow that dream and become a ranger, I would be missing something.”
Glancing over at Ardon, I see a slight look of confusion on his face as Rayfe talks. As always, there is no judgment present in his expression, but Rayfe’s words are unexpected, and it clearly shows. Curious as to what he means by this, I look back at Rayfe as he continues sorting through his emotions out loud. Having witnessed Rayfe’s usual comedic persona, this serious shift as he digests his desires and his future gives more weight to his words than normal. While I listen intently, I find myself wanting to see that customary grin on his face and hear his cocky comments.
“I don’t think I have served my purpose fully in this conflict with the trolls,” he continues, drawing me back out of my thoughts. “Like Lykara, after having seen the destruction and death that they bring with them, I would be leaving a task unfinished if I were to stop and become a ranger now. That path is a noble one, and I still dream of becoming a ranger in the future, but I am not ready yet.”
With that statement, Ardon is unable to hold his silence any longer. The curiosity showing plainly on his face, he takes advantage of the short pause in Rayfe’s words.
“Where is your path taking you now?”
“My place is by Lykara,” Rayfe answers, looking over at me. I hadn’t even dared to hope that would choose to go with me but hearing him say it out loud brings a wash of relief and excitement over me. I was prepared to walk this path alone, but with Rayfe beside me, I know we will be successful on this quest. “I saw what the warlord Kromm did to our army in that valley. He slaughtered humans and elves as if he were cutting grass with a scythe, and he will rebuild his army and try again. As long as he lives, I won’t be satisfied as a ranger. He needs to be stopped for me to feel as if I have done my duty of protecting this forest and my home.”
Ardon makes eye contact with both of us, his gaze shifting between us, a proud smile spreading across his face.
“It looks like the two of you have quite the journey ahead of you. I wish you safety and luck on your quest, and a quick return back here.”
“Oh father, you know I don’t need luck,” Rayfe remarks, immediately breaking the seriousness of the conversation, his humor brightening the room. The three of us laugh, and any negative thoughts I had melt away. We talk for a while longer but keep our conversation away from the trolls and our journey. We talk about the city and its politics. I ask questions that arise as I listen to the two of them discuss recent events, trying to take in as much as I can.
Eventually, exhaustion sets in for both Rayfe and me, and Ardon suggests we call in a night so we can get some much needed rest. He offers me his bed, as he will be out on patrol for most of the night. Rayfe’s mother will arrive home sometime in the night, but there will plenty of time for that reunion in the morning. Rayfe crawls into his own bed, next to the one I will be sleeping in, and I do the same. Rayfe reaches out and squeezes my hand, silently reminding me he is my partner and my friend. I lay my head down and close my eyes, sleep engulfing me almost immediately, and my dreams are of tomorrow and the adventures that will come with it.
Chapter 15
I wake in the morning feeling reinvigorated, the comforts of a real bed absent from my life for the past few weeks. Sitting up, I notice that Ardon is gone, and I assume he is still out on his patrol. Rayfe is breathing steadily in his bed next to me, and I know this sleep must be even better for him because he is home. On the other side of Rayfe, a female elf, who I assume must be his mother, sleeps peacefully as well. Her back is turned to me in her slumber, so I don’t see much of her features, but the slimness of her body shows under the blanket she is wrapped in, and her long, glossy black hair hangs loose behind her.
Respecting the two of them and their much-needed rest, I try to make as little noise as possible as I climb out of bed, my bare feet padding silently across the room. With no windows in the tree home, I have no way of knowing what time it is, but I can tell by how rested I feel this morning that the day has begun. I tiptoe around the small home, taking in the minor details that I missed last night. Next to the front door stands a small wooden rack, several weapons placed in it, including my sword. I remember taking it off my belt and placing it on the ground beside me before I fell asleep. Someone must have moved it to the rack while I slept.
Rayfe’s two swords rest on the rack as well, standing side by side, along with his bow and quiver, empty still from the battle. Another bow hangs beside his, slightly smaller and bone white. That must belong to his mother, along with a single short sword in a simple sheath. The quiver that hangs next to his mother’s bow is filled to the brim with arrows, their multicolored fletching feathers spilling out the top.
Besides the beds and the table and chairs that we used last night, there isn’t much else in the room. A few shelves on the walls hold trinkets and other small possessions, and a simple dresser sits near the beds. A small wooden chest is tucked into a corner, a padlock protecting its contents from any curious eyes. The room is clean and organized. I see no signs of dust anywhere. The cups we used last night have already been cleaned and set at their places on the table again, the pitcher full of water. Not sure what proper protocol is in an elven home, I take my seat at the table and wait for Rayfe and his mother to wake up.
Several minutes later, I am startled out of my thoughts to the opening of the door. Still used to having to be on my guard in the forest and on the battlefield, I spring to my feet, chair scraping back, ready to face the intruder. When Ardon appears in the opening, a basket of cheese and bread held under his arm, I feel foolish, my face burning red. His knowing smile and a reassuring nod as he joins me at the table and sets the food down, makes the heat in my face die down. Sounds of movement off to the side draw my attention to the other two waking up, and I feel guilty for the noise I made in my quick panic.
Rayfe lets out a huge, silent yawn as he stretches his arms over his head before opening his eyes and sitting up. He takes a moment, blinking the sleep from his vision, and quickly notices his mother sitting on the bed next to his own, rolling her neck and shoulders to loosen them. Their eyes meet, and they both jump to their feet, wrapping each other in a warm hug. They stay that way for several moments, before joining us at the table. I feel like I should look away, but the tenderness in that embrace makes it impossible. A pang of jealousy washes through me at the sight of a mother’s love—something I have never known. I shake the emotion away before it can register on my face.
My issues. Not theirs.
“You must be Lykara,” Rayfe’s mother says to me as she approaches the table, the joy of the reunion with her son showing on her face. “Ardon told me about you when he took over on patrol. I’m Rayfe’s mother, Eliana.”
Now that her back isn’t turned to me, I get
the full picture of Rayfe’s mother. She is tiny, the top of her head only reaching my jaw, and I must outweigh her by 25 pounds. But no one would ever describe her as small. Even with her petite frame, she exudes an air of undeniable confidence, and I immediately get the feeling that she is quite the warrior when she needs to be. Her facial features are sharp, but beautiful. High, prominent cheekbones accent her large, strikingly blue eyes. The ebony waves of her long hair seems to make them even bluer as they pierce right through me. But through the harsh planes of her face and the intensity of her stare, the kindness in those eyes and her warm smile immediately put me at ease. I return her friendly expression, and she reaches for the food in the middle of the table.
The rest of us follow suit. I take two rolls, still warm, from the basket, along with a cube of cheese and an apple as large as both of my hands clasped together. We sit in silence for a few minutes while we eat, the fresh food making my stomach remember what food should taste like. The steaming bread falls apart easily as I bite into it, and the apple is so juicy, I must wipe my mouth after every bite. Once our hunger has been satisfied, Rayfe’s mother asks us to repeat our stories once more, as we had told his father last night. I explain my past and how I ended up at the training camp, and Rayfe talks about what happened between arriving at the training camp and returning here from the battle.
“Eliana,” Ardon turns to his wife. “Rayfe has also made the decision to put off joining the rangers.”
“Oh?” Rayfe’s mother cocks one eyebrow in question. “And why is that?”
