Sondra sighed when it seemed that Trestan was finished expressing his thoughts. She soon admitted, “I feel so far away from my god and his calling. I’m regretting the paths I took that brought me here.”
Trestan gave her a reassuring pat on one arm. Faithful’s Companion caught her eye as it glinted in the sunlight. “Our gods are here with us, always, to guide us.” Trestan reconsidered his choice of words and added, “For our own interests as well as their own. I’ve had times when I questioned my course, and often I later find that I am a better person for the paths I have chosen.”
Cat noticed that Trestan began to stroke his mustache again. Some new thought had entered his mind. Her beloved looked up into her eyes.
“Cat, the elves should not be the only ones to take advantage of the helpless presence of our enemies.”
The half-elf raised her eyebrows inquiringly. Trestan added, “We have an opportunity as well to get answers to our questions.”
Trestan got on his feet and faced outward from their prison. His eyes sought out the prison holding the others, hoping to spot Savannah. His voice easily carried to the dark cleric.
“Savannah, why did you ask if Petrow was with us when you saw us on the ship?”
Several moments of silence passed. No answer seemed to be forthcoming.
“You said he belongs to DeLaris,” Trestan yelled, “And that you wanted him. Why?”
Another period of silence ensued. Trestan suspected he would get no answer. Trestan almost turned away when that cold voice answered through the skull helm. “Have Petrow come find me to ask me that question sometime, I do not answer to you. Know this, paladin of Abriana: if you are ever under my flail again, I shall not spare your life like I did before.”
Trestan turned away and stroked his mustache as he considered her words. Katressa guessed that Trestan had no more questions for the moment, so she decided to start her own inquiries.
“Revwar! You can hear me very well can’t you?”
The elf wizard was seen moving about the lattice of branches hemming him in. In her mind, Cat could envision his probing yellow eyes as she heard his voice answer.
“Unless my ears deceive me,” he called out, “I hear the adventuress whelp hired as a meddlesome privateer from Kashmer. You are a far distance from home.”
“Farther than you know, and that is what I wanted to ask you about.”
“Oh? Please, entertain me. This cell is so boring.”
Cat licked her lips. In her mind, she could see the demons raiding her childhood home as if it had been yesterday. “About two decades ago you stole that first relic stone didn’t you? You summoned demons into the middle of an elf city, and they took it back to their home plane of existence.”
Revwar seemed hesitant to answer the question in the middle of Serud’Thanil, surrounded by elves. “How came you to believe such a thing?”
“I was there. I remember the demon attack. I remember you being among the elders. You were supposed to be a guardian of those relics from the Godswars, instead you decided to take them and use them for your own means.”
Cat’s hand briefly settled upon the scroll tucked in her belt. The elves had not taken it, yet she was far from decoding it all. Revwar apparently decided there was no harm in responding. He understood that the elves were already holding a death sentence over his band.
“Aye, I helped the demons make an appearance. The display brought far too much attention from certain gods, though; so the next two had to be taken with more subtlety. You must have been very young when that happened.”
Cat responded only briefly, “Aye, but I remember it.”
“Maybe that elf city was your home?”
The wizard got only silence as a response.
“You lost someone you cared about? Someone very dear?”
“What happened to Reatheneus Bilil?”
“Who are you, that you would ask such a question?” Revwar was testing her.
Cat stood tall within the cell. “Katressa Bilil, his daughter, demands to know!”
Revwar preferred to give another question rather than an answer, “I don’t suppose that human wench he took to his bed survived the assault?”
Cat’s silence spoke volumes.
“Well, if it is of any comfort,” Revwar continued, smiling at the agony he knew he was inflicting on his pursuer, “He died rather quickly and easily compared to some of the tortures the others endured in that hellish world.”
Cat’s knees went weak. She held on to the wooden tangle of branches for support. Revwar continued with words that struck to her soul. “If you ever want to hunt down the coldast demon that killed him, it won’t be hard. The creature wears a collection of ears of the people it had killed. I hear Reatheneus’ ear had a gold unicorn symbol dangling from it when it was cut off.”
Cat dropped to her knees, sobbing against the caleocht wood. Revwar went on talking. “Which is a good judgment upon him if you ask me. For an elf to take a human to his bed is revolting at the least. They might spawn an agora that is better off if they are drowned at birth…”
Trestan noticed the change in Cat’s attitude as Revwar said “agora”. With tears still falling from her cheeks the half-elf jumped up against the imprisoning branches in fury. Her face, normally displaying graceful elvish lines and delicate skin, twisted into rage.
“Hear me now murderer and betrayer! I swear if it’s the last thing I do I will hunt you down and end your life! Whatever it takes, if you survive here I will track you down and put steel through you when you least expect it!”
Cat spouted with all the venom she had ever mustered. Her eyes blazed like green fires. It shocked Trestan to see her anger kindle in such a short period of time. Listening to her vengeful words, Sondra couldn’t help but take a side glance at Montanya. The often-scowling youth witnessed a mirror of her own rage as the half-elf vented her anger and promises of death, and she did not know how to respond to what she saw. Montanya understood all too well the anger created by the murder of one’s parents; however, in that moment she saw how others must view her outbursts. Cat’s moment of blind rage reflected the youth’s own uncontrolled emotions.
Revwar’s amused chuckle answered from afar as Cat continued. “For my father, mother, and my people, I will make it my duty to hunt you wherever you might hide. I won’t be satisfied until your sightless eyes are pecked out by vultures!
“I will hunt you down and my blade or my crossbow will be the death of you…I swear it!”
* * * * *
The elf handed more sweet fruits through a small opening in the branches. The companions offered only thanks. Lindon and Trestan had both insisted to the others that they treat their captors as hosts, and behave as if they themselves were visiting dignitaries. The two men accepted the food with smiles and polite words, translated by Katressa. In return, the elf smiled as he carried out his duty.
The elf, Cassyli, had been a member of the scouting party that captured them. He acted as spokesman and inquisitor for the elves when Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail wasn’t present. He seemed to be their chief contact with the elven people, and likely Illwinu’s ears among their jailors. In observing his dress style and customs, Trestan had come to learn more about elven heritage. The elf’s blondish-green hair was kept in a ponytail by a knot of leather shaped like a flower. Elf males favored wearing flower patterns as a sign of virility. By the looks of his spear and his unique shield, (crafted from a turtle shell), he seemed more a warrior than a diplomat. Nevertheless, his likeable bearing earned some trust from the companions. That trust that didn’t conceal the fact he likely passed knowledge of their words and actions to the ruling elven matriarchs. The companions suspected that he might have a greater grasp of the human tongue than he let on. Since Cat could translate, the elves likely kept secret the numbers of their people that could understand the humans. He lingered at their cell to make pleasant conversation as they ate. They wondered if he eavesdropped on comments made in the hum
an tongue.
Trestan voiced his concerns while tasting the sweet fruits offered. “My friends and I worry about how your people see us and compare us to that other band. Surely you can tell we are not like them. We hold much higher values.”
Cassyli answered in Elvish while Cat served as translator. “I trust much of what you tell me.” The elf smiled as he spoke. He very much wanted to seem like he was their friend, though they could not know how much of his emotions were genuine. “Many of my people do not mark the distinction between our two groups of visitors. Emotions run strong among my people right now. If I were you I would not worry much. Our leaders are wise and they have listened to your tale with interest.”
The champion of Abriana pounced on that answer. “Then surely they must also trust that our intentions are only good, and that we move to secure magic that threatens their city as well as our homes. Why can we not reclaim our weapons and go on with our quest?”
The elf scout shrugged. “If it were up to me, I might let you do just that.”
Even as Cat translated, she doubted that his sincerity carried far. As Cassyli spoke, the elves next to him threw mistrusting glances at all the companions, and even scornful looks upon the half-elf translator.
“If you’ll excuse me, I may have a talk with someone right now who might be able to bend influence in your direction,” Cassyli finished as he waved goodbye.
Trestan brought his departure to a pause with one more question. “Will anyone here admit to seeing if the Doranil Star came down nearby, or flew overhead?”
Cassyli offered no answer. The elf resumed walking along the elevated walkways to a dwelling not far distant. The structure, like the rest of Serud’Thanil, shaped itself as part of the great tree supporting it. Loose vines screened the windows. A sweet bouquet arose from the flowers terraced around the porch. He was not the first to arrive at the house of Naef’ad Illwinu Wessail. His brother rested upon a wicker chair. The siblings nodded at each other upon recognition. Cassyli could see that his brother sat at the edge of his chair, upright, and wringing his hands. Before they could exchange pleasantries, the resident mother of the house appeared to greet them both.
Naef’ad Illwinu had shed her official councilor garments for a relaxed, airy evening gown. Green hair swayed about her hips as she walked up to the brothers. “Welcome my sons, I am glad to see you both.”
The two offspring bowed to their mother in respect. Cassyli spoke as soon as he could without seeming impolite. “Mother, what is to become of the half-human and her friends? From what I observe, they seem to have only peace in their hearts in regards to our people.”
“Have you not forgotten what their murderous friends did?” Snapped his brother, Foyren. “They killed several of our kin. Some who died were playmates of ours from childhood. How could you so easily forget such spilled blood?”
“From what I have seen, they are enemies of those same murderers…”
With a wave of her hand, Illwinu commanded the attention of her grown children. “Can I not come home from council sessions to relax with my sons in enjoyment of a quiet evening? Must you dive right into the subject that has caused much speeches and arguments within the council chambers these past days? I had hoped to sit on the balcony with you and discuss less stressful events.”
Cassyli bowed his head, “I’m sorry mother.”
She shook her head. “Well, the peaceful moment is lost. I might as well satisfy your minds. I assume your thoughts were focused along the same lines, Foyren?”
“They are indeed.” Foyren eagerly answered.
Naef’ad Illwinu dropped into a padded couch with a sigh. “The governess, Deylirra, will make the final decision herself regarding the group of five that Cassyli helped capture.”
Foyren’s mood went as black as a storm cloud. He slapped the arm of his chair in frustration as he expressed his feelings. “I saw blood taken from the bodies of my kinsmen. The halfling and the armored cleric drank greedily from the chaos they’d sowed. The wizard burned two of my best warriors to ash. I overcame my fear and anger to help secure them alive. Why is there any question at all as to their punishment?”
Cassyli glanced across at his brother. It was a rare thing to hear him admit fear. Foyren was one of the best hunters Serud’Thanil had in its service. The ivory and beads decorating the belt supporting his kittane signified the accolades bestowed upon him by his people. Beneath dark hair, dyed a lighter brown in streaks, remained a scar that jaggedly cut through one eyebrow. The elf had been a renowned hunter of the most respected game animals around. A necklace displayed the claws and bones of several large carnivores, including the tips of a wrelcat’s horns.
The younger brother interrupted on behalf of those he felt were innocent. “I don’t deny the evil of those you fought, but do not impress the same judgment on those who have done us nay harm.”
Foyren would not be so easily turned aside. “And what makes you think they hold any less evil in their hearts? Both parties came to us on the same day. It could very well be that the agora and her friends are allied with those others, but were clever enough to act on better behavior.”
Cassyli noted a facial reaction from his mother that gave him some relief that Illwinu did not feel as similarly as Foyren.
The councilor interrupted with her feelings. “They are not in any way allied with each other. I know not only from my talks with both parties, but also from the divinations cast by our druids that there is more truth in one group than the other.”
“What you are saying,” Foyren insinuated, “That they will be set free and allowed to walk freely in our wood?”
Naef’ad Illwinu shrugged. “Truly, I don’t know. The council is split on a decision, which is why the governess will eventually intervene.”
“I can’t believe I am hearing this.” Foyren continued to fume, upsetting his mother. He angrily pushed to his feet and stormed over to the cache of gear that had been left in Illwinu’s keeping. Not all of the companions’ belongings were with the woman, but among the items presently kept there Foyren pointed out a bastard sword with elvish lettering. “Are we seriously considering allowing the human to take this elvish weapon back to his people?”
“Why the interest in the Talo’Seelie blade, brother?” Cassyli asked. “You were offered the honor of carrying a whieu, and you refused it. From what I understood, you rejected it as not being a weapon native to our culture…and yet you show an interest in the human’s blade?”
The pole-swords that Cat and Trestan had noticed as being the only worked steel in the village were known as a whieu. There were few such blades because the native Faer’Seelie did not work with metal in such a way. The swords they possessed had been given to them during the Godswars by a Talo’Seelie tribe. They were made of such high quality, and so few had survived all these years, that they had become a weapon of honor given to those who could best take care of them. The council granted Foyren the right to carry one. They were quickly disappointed by their choice. Foyren was such a staunch traditionalist that he refused to use a sword crafted by Talo’Seelie. After all, the Talo’Seelie were tribes of elves that had broken away from some of their traditional ways to merge their culture in with humans, gnomes, and even dwarves. While the Faer’Seelie stayed true to the Treemother and nurtured her forests, the Talo’Seelie adapted to new customs and walked among the human cities of Orlaun and Kashmer. Although even the Talo’Seelie often lived in woods and worshipped the Treemother, the Faer’Seelie considered their ways more pure.
“I did not say I would use this blade!” Foyren seemed insulted. “Yet it is elf-make, even though made by Talo’Seelie. It should not return to human lands where someday it may be used against elves.”
“Foyren! Have a seat!”
Naef’ad Illwinu’s voice commanded attention. Once Foyren and Cassyli were both sitting and facing her in silence, she addressed them. “Such is the division of all our people over this incident that we struggle to pronoun
ce judgment. A sentence has already been passed on the four who caused us such harm. They were serving a purpose, and that purpose is finished. As for the five who healed the boy in the woods, they will likely be let go in some fashion or another. If it was up to me, I would march them to the edge of our lands with what provisions they need, then keep an eye on them until they left our forest. It is, sadly, not up to me.”
“March them in the direction of the ship they seek?” Cassyli inquired.
“That would be very bad. Who knows what evil dropped their ship out of the sky and now wanders our forest?” Foyren added.
Illwinu Wessail sighed as she leaned back in her couch. “As far as we can tell their intentions are noble, even if some of their reasons remain hidden. We would not release them without having eyes follow them. I wouldn’t fully trust them from what little contact I have had with them, but I don’t feel that they intend any harm upon us. The decision is not up to any of us in this room, so it is a moot point.”
Foyren was quiet, but the shadow of angry emotions kept passing across his face. “You said a sentence was passed on the ones I fought? What is to become of them? Share with me some good news.”
Naef’ad Illwinu weighed the decision in her head a bit before speaking. “They are to be executed in the morning. This will hopefully appease those still demanding blood, as well as deliver a just punishment that is already overdue.”
Foyren seemed satisfied with that answer, and took his leave.
* * * * *
During the evening hours following Cassyli’s visit, trouble once again stirred between parties. Montanya, still angry over the loss of her locket, instigated her own line of questions.
“I clearly remember your face, wizard, leering down at me as you snatched my family’s heirloom. Don’t think you will see any mercy from me…”
The Earthrin Stones 2 of 3: Trials of Faith Page 40
