by Greg Curtis
Especially when they had started getting messages not just from the other lands in Irothia, but all the other realms, reporting the same thing. Elaris was particularly badly hit. And given that they had little left in the way of a civil structure, the problem was likely worse than they knew.
Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that many elves were moving. They had just lost a terrible war, overthrown their high lord, and much of their land was in disarray. With no high lord any more, and members of six great houses all vying for the vacant position, life surely couldn’t be as straight forward for the people as it had once been. And of course with refugees everywhere, flooding the cities and the towns, chaos had to rule. It would come as no surprise if many of their people moved at short notice, looking for somewhere else to live.
But it wasn’t just the elves, just as it wasn’t just the humans.
There were now reports from the trolls, the dwarves, the sprites and the gnomes. They’d suffered no war, no loss of leadership, no cities destroyed, and yet they were reporting disappearances as well.
Something was happening, and it wasn’t good. But more than that, when he plotted the reports on the maps every day, he could see a pattern emerging. A pattern a soldier knew well. The disappearances formed a circle, its centre somewhere in the elven realm. That was the sort of pattern a military man might see when he was hunting down an enemy who was striking out from a hidden base. Striking out in all directions.
It wasn’t just a single base though. There were many. It had taken him a while to realise that. But as more reports had come in and he’d started plotting them he could see a circle forming within Greenlands. And that could only mean one thing. There were outposts. There was one in his land. And when he’d sent that information on, other lands had reported the same thing. Smaller circles of disappearances, dozens of them, spread across the realms, all of them together forming a giant circle around something in Elaris.
He could do nothing about Elaris, save send messages to a high lord who still hadn’t been decided upon. But Greenlands was a different matter. And when he plotted out the disappearances within his own lands, he could see a small, almost perfect circle forming around a place he knew well. Or at least a place that he knew of too well.
Winterford.
The very name sent shivers down his spine. And not just his. Its name was known to all of Greenlands, mostly as a place of darkness and mystery. No one lived there. No one had in a very long time, though sometimes outlaws found the isolation of the lands to their advantage. After all, no one went there, so it was a good place to set up camp. Of course, not all of them returned from those camps, and those who did brought back tales of ghosts and wolves that woke children up late at night and kept the bards employed.
The land itself was mostly empty. A wasteland of scrub, grasses and swamp that had been like that for longer than anyone knew. But at its heart so the tales went, there was a village. A village that was so old it had no name. A village that had been deserted before history had begun to be written. And it was always the village that was the heart of the bards’ tales.
A village where the dead and the damned walked the streets. Where dire wolves prowled the forests surrounding it. And where monsters dwelled. Monsters and of course dark wizards, or so the bards would have it.
Iros had never given the village that much thought, except as a child when it had been a tall tale on a long dark night around a roaring fire. Then it had been exciting and mysterious. But not since.
Now it seemed that it was becoming exciting and mysterious again. But not in the way that it had been when he’d been younger.
Which was why after the court had ended for the morning, his feet had begun taking him in the direction of the rangers’ new quarters in town, and why almost without him being aware of it, his hand began knocking on the big oak doors of the burnt out stables.
The door was of course open already. Since the fire they no longer closed as the frame had warped. His knocking was simply for the sake of politeness. But still a ranger appeared in front of him as if by magic and greeted him with a polite smile, before showing him in. Say what you would about the rangers, and many elves had spoken poorly about them at great length when he’d been living in Leafshade, they were polite.
Inside things were fairly much as he’d expected. They were stables. The horses had stalls to themselves and plenty of fresh hay and water, and the wolves seemed to have made the large yard theirs as they basked in the sunshine. Meanwhile the rangers were trying to make do on the first floor of the building. It had once been the hayloft, store and saddlery where all the tools and tackle were kept, and a few extra supplies. It was at least large enough for thirty bedrolls to be laid out, and it had a partially intact roof to keep the rain off, but it wasn’t ideal accommodation.
Where parts of the roof had been burned to ash, carpenters had replaced the wooden beams, and then oiled sacking cloth had been thrown over the holes and tacked down as they waited for more permanent materials to arrive. Just as everyone else was waiting. It was probably no worse than many other houses that his people were living in. But it still wasn’t good.
Captain Maydan rose from the table to greet him as he approached, and briefly Iros found himself wondering where they’d managed to find such a huge piece of furniture. Not to mention how they’d dragged it up the stairs.
“Captain Maydan.” He greeted the captain politely as seemed appropriate, especially considering that he was about to ask him for a favour. “How are you settling in to your new quarters?”
“We are making the best of things Lord Iros.” And they were. But in the end their quarters were simply a set of half burnt out stables, and if they were to make them a home a lot of hard work would need to be done. But the same was true of so many others. Half the town had been burnt down by the Royal Watch, and the carpenters were working all the hours of the day just trying to repair what they could. Damage like that which Greenlands had suffered, took years to repair. And the same was true of all the southern towns and cities.
“I’m glad. I wish I could do more, but my resources are very limited and needed everywhere.” It was the plain truth and he hoped that the scar faced captain understood that much.
“We can see that for ourselves Lord Iros, and we are not unhappy.” Iros couldn’t read his face. The scars made it hard to begin with, and then the man was careful never to give anything away. He would undoubtedly be a worthy opponent in games of strategy and chance.
“And the people. Have they been accepting of you?” Iros hoped as much, he had given instructions that they should be welcomed, but he doubted it would have been a popular command around the town. The war was still so fresh in people’s thoughts, and the rangers were elves, more or less. Their thin builds, pointed ears and brightly coloured hair marked them as such, even those who were of mixed blood. And most people wouldn’t have cared that they wore the leather armour of rangers rather than the black of the Watch.
“There has been little trouble.” The captain was being generous Iros knew. There had been trouble. But he had given his guards strict instructions to watch them, and make sure that any trouble ended before it began. If nothing else, these thirty rangers were a part of his town’s defences, though they probably wouldn’t see it that way. He needed all the men at arms he could get, and those who could actually ride out and check on the outlying towns and villages were more valuable still.
“I’ll keep the patrols walking the street for a while yet, to make certain that it does not become any more. I hope that’s acceptable with you.”
“We will be happy with that.” The captain smiled for the first time since Iros had met him, an expression that wrinkled his scars in strange ways. “We do not wish to cause trouble.”
“I didn’t think you did captain. The patrols are only because I have many angry and grieving people within the town. With that and the ale flowing too freely, trouble is always near. I keep patrols wandering by all the in
ns and taverns, the grove, the markets and anywhere else where problems might arise. I need the people to see them, to know that they are safe and that the law will be upheld.” Which was why he was recruiting as fast as he could. But almost no training was happening. He had all the men he could find, out on the streets in their uniforms day and night. If it came to a fight he had very grave doubts about their ability to win, but he was gambling that just their presence would stop the fights from starting. It was a poor way to run a force, but the best he could do.
“I understand.” Did he? Iros wondered about that. Did he take him at his word, or did he still believe that the patrols were there to watch him and his riders? He had no way of knowing. Maybe it was time to visit Wildflower Grove and speak with Yossirion again. If nothing else the elder was good at putting people at their ease, despite his gruff tones. And Saris would love to visit him. As it was she was quite happy exploring the ruined stables, and sniffing the wolves also wandering about freely.
“Good. And perhaps there is a way that you can put the people’s doubts to rest.”
“Ah hah!” The captain’s grin broadened. He’d always known that Iros wasn’t visiting purely for social reasons. But he didn’t say anything more and Iros hurried on.
“You know that I have no actual cavalry. Not since the war.” The captain nodded and Iros was certain he’d guessed what he wanted from the very first words. Possibly even before then. Most of Greenlands militia was gone, dead from the fierce battle to defend the town. And his few surviving riders could not form even a single dragoon.
It was a serious problem when Greenlands stretched across a span of seventy leagues to the east and west and south all the way to the border. It was more so when that land consisted of scores and scores of isolated towns separated by days of hard riding and poor roads.
In desperation he’d gathered up all the able bodied men he could, stuck them in whatever armour he could find, and sent them out in border patrols of twenty to survey the towns and find out how terribly they’d suffered. But they weren’t soldiers, they weren’t trained, there weren’t enough of them, and if it came to a fight they’d need the Divines on their side. All nine of them. The only advantage that they had was that the war was over, and Greenlands had never had a serious problem with bandits. Farmers seldom had enough wealth to attract their attention. But he simply couldn’t send them in to an actual battle.
Rangers on the other hand were trained. They had the armour they needed. They could scout in hostile lands while remaining unseen. And if things got too much for them, they could ride like the wind.
“You’ve heard that people have been disappearing?” Even as he asked, Iros started laying the maps out on the table. It was time to speak as soldiers.
Chapter Eighty Four.
“Tea?” Juna stood in the doorway of the first floor meeting room, a serving girl with a tray of cups and a pot of tea beside him. In front of them Tenir sat at one of the tables, piles of papers before him, attempting to rebuild a business empire through the remains of Iros’ private wealth and endless deals.
“Thank you.” Tenir looked surprisingly old and tired, more so than an elf of his years should. In fact he looked ill. But still he managed to look up at them from the table and politely welcome them. Say what you would about his people, they were always well mannered. Which made it all the harder to understand what had happened. Even now, with word of the ancient demon being loosed on the world once more, Juna couldn’t compare those dark elven soldiers with evil in their hearts with the normally reserved, quiet, polite people he had always known.
“How goes it?” Juna wandered over to take a seat at the side of the table. It was the same seat he’d used the day before and the day before that, and sitting down in it, it seemed almost as though nothing had changed. Save perhaps that there were more papers in the piles scattered over the table. Certainly Tenir was at the same place he had been before, almost as though he hadn’t moved. Maybe he hadn’t. Juna was spared having to ask as the girl went about her duties of pouring them cups of hot camomile tea.
“The deeds for Catalbria finally arrived last night and I’ve sent word to my cousins there that they can move back in this morning. They’ll be glad to be out of Bluebell Grove. And with our shops and warehouses in Catalbria, Tendarin and Leafshade all once more in our hands we can begin trading again.” He didn’t sound overjoyed by the news though. Possibly because there were still so many more premises to purchase and so many more members of his family to find work for. Or possibly because while the remnants of House Vora were running them, they didn’t own them. Iros did. They were guests in their own homes, a difficult thing for a proud man to accept. Still it was a step up from homeless and destitute. And soon he hoped, the formal acceptance of House Seylen would be announced. That would remove a lot of Tenir’s burden and place it on Chria’s shoulders. At last count he’d heard that one hundred and seventy three names had been added to the list of would be members, and only thirty two members of House Vora still needed to be contacted. It was progress.
“Good. And I was informed this morning that the physicians have cleared Herodan to return to light duties, and that he has accepted a position as a master at the local Academy of Nanara.” Again it was a big step down from being an envoy to a major city, but it would bring in a little silver for the family coffers so that they could slowly rebuild their fortunes, and it was an honourable position in Juna’s opinion. A man could earn respect in such a role, and for elves who had lost their place in the world along with their house, that was surely important.
Herodan he knew felt the same. He had come to Juna and asked for the position the very next morning after he’d discussed the idea with his father. Only the physicians had stopped him from taking up his duties immediately as they worried about his health.
“He was and he rushed off this morning to begin his duties.” For the first time Juna thought he could see a trace of emotion in the elf’s face. Just a flicker of relief and maybe even happiness. Only a trace, but still more than there had been before.
Of course as the previous steward had been fond of telling him, there was never good news without bad, and Juna was a little worried about how Tenir would take it. Still it had to be asked.
“Tenir.” He cleared his throat a little nervously. “You know that as Iros’ own family has passed, much of the running of Greenlands has fallen directly to him?” Tenir nodded, too tired to even care enough to be suspicious.
“There are many duties that one man simply does not have the time to carry out. Committees and assemblies to sit on, councils to attend, charities to run, and so forth. Duties that would normally have been carried out by the lord’s family. And roles that now that Greenlands is slowly returning to order, once more need someone in attendance.”
“Should not Sophelia be dealing with these matters?”
“Your daughter is. She works hard on them. But Greenlands is a large province with a large number of works to be done, and Iros is unable to assist her as his own duties demand so much of his time.”
It was unfair to lay further responsibilities on the elf’s shoulders, but it was also the right thing to do. For all of them.
Juna prided himself on being able to read people’s natures, on understanding what demons rode them, and Tenir was much like him. Duty was his demon. Responsibility, obligation, and a sense of being bound by conscience. It was a heavy burden for a man to bear, and for some it could be crushing. But it also came with its own blessings. It could give purpose to a man. Help him to endure the hardships of his life. Concentrate his thoughts so that whatever lay outside of his duties could be put aside. Tenir needed that. He needed it now more than ever. Just as Julius had. Despite Iros’ beliefs his father had once been every bit as rebellious as he had been as a youth, and duty had been his saviour.
It would be a hard thing for many within the land to understand, but when you stripped away the trivial, things like houses and races and name
s, Tenir of House Vora and Julius of Drake were very nearly the same man.
And Iros was carved from the same granite. Just as he’d always known he was. Though it had taken many years Iros had finally discovered the same need within himself. As a child he had been frightened by it. By what he had seen in his father as he served the people. He had been wild and rebellious but never out of a poor heart. It was fear that had ridden him. He had seen his father struggling with his duties, often exhausted by the endless demands placed on him. What child could ever want that? But the years away had straightened his back. Had taught him that there could be no running away. And that sense of duty had probably helped him to survive what would have killed other men. It had made him stronger than mere flesh and blood.
Juna knew then as he stared at Tenir, that he could not and would not be sparing in handing duties to the elf. That would be to fail the man.
“What do you need us to do?” It was all the invitation Juna needed.
“I thought that first since you are versed in trade, perhaps chairing the mercantile guild assembly would be something you would find interesting.” Interesting was a strong word of course. Much of what they were concerned about was taxes and tariffs, and keeping the streets clear of those who weren’t customers. But the same was true across the world, and Tenir would likely be familiar with all the issues.
