by Faith Naff
Mantis leaned his head back to open his throat, letting the call of a mockingbird sound through the trees. He was asking for more information, particularly what kind of creatures were coming so close to the border. More crow calls came back to him, but this time he searched them for different meanings. The Bird Code was as complex as it was old. Different calls meant different things depending on what information came from the captain. The Thorns to the south sounded two long calls each. This time, the two calls signaled it was goblins that had been spotted and the length of the cries conveyed no signs of hostile intent.
Even being a long way from the border, Mantis now knew four goblins were traveling west just outside the territory but showing no intent to enter faerie land. He had all the intelligence he needed to make his call. With a series of blue jay tweets, he told his squadron to shift formation but keep from engaging. The faeries moved with beautiful precision, shifting positions towards the south without ever leaving the canopy. To any creature on the ground, it would look like nothing more than the birds being a bit more active than usual.
Mantis moved through the leaves swiftly, darting from branch to branch without causing one leaf to rustle. Moments later he was in position. The edge of the territory was within sight, and he was able to get a first-hand account what was going on. Indeed, four goblins were moving as a unit along the territory line. The moved west, towards the Tri-leaf Road that led to Tranquility. Though they stayed clear of crossing the line and showed no intent to invade the faerie land, they were heavily armed. Crude, rusted armor covered their rigid, bulbous bodies. They carried old swords, mangled, broken, and likely long discarded by the elves or dwarves as no longer useful. Mantis had no idea where these creatures intended to go, but wherever it was, they were expecting a fight.
Sizing up the situation, Mantis gave the order for Sentry Protocol. All Thorns were to hold position and observe, but if any goblin crossed the border, kill them. It was a tactic used against any nearby threat not intent on attacking the faerie tribe. Killing an enemy who crossed the line would remind them that, were hostility to come to Windsong, the faerie race would prevail.
Night was upon them now, though the sky still held the faintest blue glow. The armor-clad goblins clanked loudly as they moved, arguing with each other in a language that sounded like someone choking on their food. Mantis sounded more bird calls, assigning a Thorn to each of the goblins. As the creatures moved, the Thorns moved silently with them. It was clear by their lack of alertness that the goblins had no idea they were being watched. Their shouting grew increasingly loud. Mantis had no idea what they were upset about, but it clearly had them divided on something important.
When the tension finally reached the tipping point, one goblin thrust out its hands, shoving the one next to it northward. The goblin stumbled backwards, taking three ungraceful steps across the border. Mantis only saw the movement because he knew where to look. There was a rustling in the leaves to his right as a Thorn sprang into action.
The goblin had barely regained its balance before the faerie’s poisoned arrow began to take effect. Its body went rigid, bulbous eyes frozen in place and mouth agape. The other goblins watched on from the other side of the border. They made no movement and sounded no cry. Mantis deduced they knew what was happening. Even in the Savage Lands, the skill and power of the Rose Thorns were well known; it was what kept the lesser creatures from crossing into their territory.
The last thing the poor goblin did in its life was let out a long exhale. Its legs collapsed beneath it and it fell into the foliage, disappearing into the shadows. The other goblins raised their weapons as their eyes turned skyward. Mantis had to hold back the desire to laugh. The goblins had no chance of seeing them in the daylight, let alone at night. Still, they snarled at the sky. A faint glimmer of moonlight shone through the canopy, reflecting off their slender, disgusting teeth.
At last, one of them muttered something and they all took off towards the south. Mantis gave it a few more moments before finally sounding the all clear. He and his team retreated back to Windsong. Before, this brought the promise of rest at last, but now he had one more stop he had to make. They’d had a contact, and even though it was a savage creature, blood had been spilled. All encounters were required to be reported, and the captain always gave the report.
But it wasn’t just duty that compelled him to report the sighting. Wherever these goblins were going, it was clearly to do battle. Goblins were rarely seen with armor and weapons. Their hide was rough enough to protect them against a common skirmish and their claws and teeth were deadly on their own. Truthfully, Mantis was glad his teammate’s shot struck true, for there were only a few places on a goblin’s body soft enough for one of their poisoned darts to land a hit. When coupled with the armor and limited light, he wasn’t entirely sure he would have made the shot himself.
Something was very wrong. He could feel it in his gut and it made him very weary. Tranquility was enough to worry about without the savages preparing themselves for another battle. He wanted to be wrong, but he couldn’t help but feel dark days were coming for Windsong.
Chapter 15
“The continued neutrality of Tri-leaf Pass is imperative for the Pact to succeed. The crossroads have long stood for harmony, and the Council must have that energy about them in each meeting they hold.”
Mapleleaf: Elven High Priestess
Oakleaf was finding her anger had its advantages. It made her more focused and more determined but, most of all, it let her go on very little sleep. It wasn’t her choice not to sleep; her rage wouldn’t let her. Whenever she closed her eyes, she would see that blighted faerie hovering in front of her again. She remembered the shame she felt cowering before a creature small enough to fit in her hand. In her lifetime, Oakleaf had stepped on creatures as big as her without even realizing it, yet that little insect was powerful enough to make her look like a useless fool.
And in front of her own seryan.
Moonbeam’s dismissal hurt worse than anything. From time to time, she found herself rubbing gently on her hip, tending to the spot where she’d hit the ground after the seryan pushed her aside. There was no injury, but she nursed it as if there were. It comforted her when she remembered Moonbeam’s hurtful words. Weak, incapable, these were how her seryan described her after the Rose Thorns barred their way. She’d worked too hard to be where she was and, until that moment, the future had seemed so bright.
She had to find a way to get it back. She had to get her life back on course and prove her worth in the Temple. Most of all, she had to make Windsong pay for her humiliation.
These thoughts never seemed to leave her mind, but a long march down the Tri-leaf roads gave her nothing better to do than dwell on the past. With Moonbeam back in Tranquility, Oakleaf was now the leader of her team. Of course, the seryan was still in charge, but her orders came by way of messenger faeries who arrived from time to time. At least, they were supposed to. She had expected some form of communication from the seryan since her departure, but none had come.
With no course of action, Oakleaf rallied the band of acolytes and pushed on. She needed a bold move to show her capabilities, and only one thing would do. After several days of waiting in Moon-hollow for guidance, Oakleaf announced that the party would travel across the Lands of Order to Ironhoof. Other than Windsong, the centaurian city was the only settlement not yet thoroughly searched. The territory had been checked, but only what could be seen from the Safe Road and no group had actually gone into the city.
It wasn’t simply fear that kept them out, though the private nature and militaristic culture of the centaurs did make them quite intimidating. There was little chance either of the fugitives would find safe haven with them. The centaurs cared little for the Temple or the worship of the Lady, but they cared even less for outsiders making themselves at home on their land. Still, if a good enough hiding spot were found, they could rest assured that those hunting for them would stay away.
Even in the faint evening light, she could see the worry in her acolytes’ faces. Fear and uncertainty had been spreading through the ranks since she announced their next destination. Still, she did not waver from her decision. She had shown weakness once and wouldn’t do it again. They would likely find nothing in Ironhoof, but it was better than trudging over already searched stretches of forest.
Night was upon them when they reached Tri-leaf Pass. The crossroads near the center of the Lands of Order had been famous for many years. Three different trees grew around the spot where the roads met. Their leafy branches tangled together overhead, becoming indistinguishable from each other. The spot had long been the symbol of the Pact: different tribes with their own roots coming together in harmony. The trees were said to be hundreds of years old. It was a place rich with history and as good a spot as any to stop for the night.
The convoy stopped their march and had begun setting up camp. Oakleaf couldn’t help but notice how efficient the setup had become. The first couple of nights, it would take hours to erect the tents and build the fires. Now that they were several weeks into the hunt, everything was prepared in a quarter of the time. The fires roared to life before the world went completely dark and suppers were soon cooking over their flames.
Oakleaf sat against a wide tree trunk close to the fire. The smell of the burning wood was comforting and watching the flames dance upon the logs almost put her in a trance. This was their first camp since leaving the homely comforts of Moon-hollow. Being back out in the wilderness was taking its toll on the acolytes. The hospitality of the elves made them even more eager to return home and end this senseless pursuit. If she hadn’t taken a personal investment in the mission, she would feel the same way.
There was a commotion to the east that made Oakleaf rise to her feet once more. Out of the darkness, a young faerie zipped through the air. A rolled parchment was strapped to his back and she could tell he was exhausted even in the poor lighting. She held out her hand, letting the faerie land on her palm. His hands fell upon his knees and he doubled over with heavy breaths.
“Priestess…” the exhausted faerie panted. “I have a...message...from...Tranquility.”
“Well, let’s have it then,” Oakleaf snapped. Her conscience told her she wasn’t being fair. This young faerie had done nothing to cause her harm. He’d likely flown to Moon-hollow expecting her there and then doubled his speed to catch up once discovering that she wasn’t. Still, scolding a faerie mended her injured pride a bit, and she valued that more than her humility.
The faerie freed the parchment and handed it to her. Upon taking the note, Oakleaf let her other hand drop away uncaringly. The faerie nearly fell to the ground before beating his tired wings to keep him aloft. He went off to rest in a nearby tree as Oakleaf took the message back to the fire. The orange glow reflected off the milky white of the paper, drawing her eyes to the seal at the center. The outline of a leaf was pressed into the wax. It was the emblem of Moon-hollow, and since it came from Tranquility, it must have been from Seryan Moonbeam.
Oakleaf cracked the wax seal and unfurled the letter. She angled it into the light, letting the black ink stand out against the pale background.
Oakleaf,
I and the other seryans are needed in Tranquility for the foreseeable future, and thus I will not be returning to the search. Rumors are circulating that strange events have taken place in Meadowgold, events that may have something to do with the fugitives. Bring your acolytes to Meadowgold and capture these two as soon as possible.
Do not disappoint me again.
Seryan Moonbeam
Oakleaf shut her eyes as her hands crushed the paper. Even many miles away, Moonbeam was able to poke at the coals of her burning anger, enlarging the flames just as she was beginning to calm them. She’d already known there was a chance the fugitives were hiding in the human territory. That’s why she’d sent Rainstorm there covertly. Sending the whole troupe would likely scare them away. Even if they did manage to capture Sunrise and Firefly, now Moonbeam would take the credit. No, Oakleaf had to maintain control of the operation. Each move needed to be clearly of her own design.
“What are our orders?” a nearby acolyte asked.
Oakleaf smiled at him as she crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire. She’d cracked the seal, meaning no one else had read the message. No one knew what it said save for Moonbeam and herself. “It seems the Lady blesses me with divine wisdom,” she proclaimed. “The seryan has insisted that we search for the fugitives in Ironhoof.”
“Our path is blessed,” another acolyte said jubilantly.
“It is indeed,” Oakleaf answered with a false smile. “Everyone get some rest. We’ve a long journey tomorrow.” At her command, the acolytes returned to their tents.
The messenger faerie hovered again before the priestess. The heat of the fire warmed his back, but the sweat on his body was making him cold everywhere else. “Priestess, might I find shelter and food with your camp tonight?”
“You’re not done yet, messenger,” she replied coldly. She reached into her robes, retrieving another note and passing it to the tiny, exhausted creature. “You’ve another delivery to make first.”
Chapter 16
The storm didn’t last long. Though it was strong, the heavy rains passed over Meadowgold within an hour. Once they were gone, there was still plenty of sunshine left to enjoy, plenty of time for the festivities to continue and for the humans to celebrate the arrival of their first high priestess. The streets were muddy and many of the decorations had been damaged, but most human celebrations picked up where they left off when the weather temporarily interrupted them.
This time, it did not.
The late afternoon sun cast its warming rays down on empty streets. Goblets full of ale and rainwater lined fence rails and anything that could be used as a table. Colorful streamers floated in stagnant pools along the side of the streets. It looked as though the storm had washed all the happiness and cheer away, but such wasn’t the case.
Ilderra shielded her eyes from the sun as she stepped out of Viyana’s home. Her lovely robes, dried by the fire during the storm, became tarnished as each step dragged them through the mud. It was quiet, quieter than the Wilds. At least there she could hear the birds singing or the insects chirping. Here there was nothing. Everyone was in their homes, likely sitting alone with their disappointment over who Tranquility had sent to be their new spiritual leader. She’d hoped to see at least a few people out she could mingle with, but it was as though the city were abandoned. After just a few steps from the door, Ilderra stopped. She could see down the street from where she stood, and it too was empty. With eyes closed, she let out a long exhale.
“Where are you heading?” Viyana asked as she emerged from her home.
“I’m just going to take a walk around,” she responded without looking back.
“Could you use some company?”
Ilderra shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I’d rather be alone for a while.”
“As you wish,” Viyana replied kindly. “I have matters to attend to here anyway. Will I see you for supper?”
“Perhaps.”
Ilderra wandered down the street without saying goodbye. Viyana watched on from her doorway until the high priestess was out of sight. Her heart ached for her. The storm had given them time to talk, and Viyana learned all about the strange and mournful circumstances that led to her assignment. She could only imagine what it must have felt like to get that calling, especially given Ilderra’s history in Meadowgold. Viyana had been a leader for a few years now, but the title wasn’t suddenly thrust upon her. She’d worked hard and made sacrifices over many years to get where she was. It wasn’t that she thought Ilderra couldn’t do it; she seemed quite capable and wise. But it was a job she never asked for and she had no choice but to accept.
And her people weren’t making it any easier.
Viyana underst
ood Ilderra’s desire to be alone. She needed time to clear her head. In truth, she needed the alone time as well. There was still the faerie to deal with. Once convinced Ilderra was well out of sight, Viyana reentered her home and made her way up the stairs. Sunrise and Sparrow were still as they were. The elven fugitive sat in a chair against the wall while Sparrow sat on the ledge of the table under the window.
“She’s gone now,” Viyana said, still closing the door behind her just in case.
“I’m not going to be able to stay here,” Sunrise said. “Your new high priestess won’t stay oblivious forever.”
“We’ll have to find a new place for you to hide,” Viyana agreed.
“It won’t matter,” Sunrise said. His voice was low, carrying with it an admittance of defeat. “No matter where I go, Tranquility is never going to stop looking for me.”
“And I can see why,” Sparrow said. With Viyana downstairs, she and Sunrise had plenty of time to talk quietly with one another. “To think that magic can be wielded beyond Temple control. No wonder she wants to find you two so badly. You must get out of the city if you’re to continue eluding them.”
“Let’s not jump to that just yet. There are plenty of places in Meadowgold for him to hide,” Viyana assured.
Sparrow looked up at her. Her eyebrow was raised along with one corner of her mouth. “It didn’t take me long to find him.”
