He walked on. Any game that would normally have been in the area seemed to have vacated at the coming of the goblins; that was Hade’s take on the scarcity of game animals at any rate. It was forty-five minutes later when he spotted a hare in the weeds to the left of the trail.
Afternoon found him coursing the trail once again, well fed and in better spirits. He’d found a small stream from which to drink his fill. The icy water did much to aid his energy level, and he’d even managed to redress his wound and clean it more thoroughly.
Judging by the redness and the burning sensation, he imagined he’d picked up a bit of an infection in the wound, but it smelled normal at any rate. He supposed he should be thankful for that, at least.
He had just started to go over in his mind the meeting he’d have with the elves, if and when he found them, when a warning signal went off in the back of his mind.
He stopped and tried to remember what it was that had made him start. Slowly, he crouched into the ferns and tried to see anything out of ordinary in the forest ahead. Inwardly he cursed himself for a fool; he’d let his mind wander like some damn rookie.
The sun was busy burning away the morning mist, but it still was damn hard to see anything that would give his “sixth sense” a reason to ping like it had. A lot of guys in the platoon had scoffed at the old-timers and their “warrior’s senses” line, but Hade had come to respect his.
He slowly drew his bow from his shoulder and reached for an arrow. He was just about to give up his search, chalking it up to his weariness and the rush of protein the rabbit had provided him, when an elf in woodland armor stepped out of the underbrush next to him and held a curved blade to his throat.
“Drop the bow,” the elf said with a thick accent.
Oddly, it added, “Please.”
Hade’s wide eyes rolled to regard the ranger as he dropped the weapon and slowly spread his fingers. His pulse raced in his ears as he and the elf stared at each other. After a few heartbeats the elf broke eye-contact and looked up. Hade followed his gaze.
Out of the shadows of a clump of fir trees strode a vision. It was the second elf that he’d ever seen, but Hade was sure she must be the most beautiful of them all. She was slightly taller than he, with platinum hair that fell to her armored shoulders. Her skin was the pale shade all elves shared, with a hint of blue shadowing. What struck him most of course, were the violet eyes.
They spoke of starlit nights spent singing and dancing through the wood, yet contained a depth of experience that the soldier wouldn’t have expected in one who appeared so young.
She boldly moved to stand before him. If she had any fear or trepidation at dealing with humans, she showed no sign of it. Those purple orbs bored into Hade’s as it seemed she was considering his worth.
Behind her, six more figures materialized from the wood and Hade knew that he had to be very careful here or wind up dead. Bemusedly, he realized that he’d already be dead if they’d wanted kill him.
“Man. Give me your name…please,” the woman ordered with a far less-prominent accent than her underling. Her manner was imperious, yet almost excited.
Hade had a hard time not smirking at the obviously forced use of please. He wondered briefly if all elves thought humans said please all the time.
He cleared his throat to get the cobwebs that fear had deposited cleared away.
“Hade.”
The slightest of lines appeared between her perfect golden eyebrows. She tried out the strange name.
“Hade,” it was almost a question.
He nodded, feeling a little of his adrenaline starting to ebb. Perhaps he wouldn’t be killed summarily. Of course, that was a long way from convincing the elves to help, but it was a start.
“I’m a soldier, from the fort,” he inclined his head - as best he could with the elfblade at his throat - back toward Kelleran’s Folly.
The elf woman briefly looked past him, then back. She cast her gaze all over him, taking in the details. After a moment, her brow smoothed and she nodded to the man covering Hade.
The ranger pulled back his blade and took a step to the side. Hade slowly rose to his full height and kept his arms wide, fingers spread. He looked at the elven party, and while he was sure they could give a large group of goblins a run for their money, this wasn’t a battle force.
“I have to be honest, I was hoping to find some of your folk,” he had decided straightforwardness would be his ally here. Besides, he was too tired and sore to bother with flowery language.
The woman cocked her head slightly.
“You thought to seek aid from us?”
Hade couldn’t tell if she was impressed by the idea, or if she had taken affront. He hoped for the former.
She held his gaze for a moment, and he nodded. She turned to the first elf and smiled.
No, Hade thought, she’s beaming. It was if the sun had broken through a storm front. In spite of himself, the hardened soldier sucked in a breath at her beauty.
“I knew it!” she said, and Hade heard the ripple of fingers on harp strings before he realized she was giggling.
She turned her violet eyes back to the man and he couldn’t help but smile stupidly in return.
She huffed a satisfied sigh before assuming a more serious tone.
“I thought you might need some help,” she said, coming closer to Hade.
He was keenly aware of her femaleness, despite the situation. He was glad for the beard which would hide some of his reddening face.
“Our scouts had reported the movements of the blackbloods some time ago…”
Hade blinked. “You didn’t think to warn us?”
The question was out before he could think it might be a bad thing to say. Her expression didn’t change, but her eyes hardened slightly, and Hade immediately regretted his boldness. Still, she answered him easily enough.
“I’m sure you are aware that our two nations don’t speak much,” she glanced at her comrade as she continued.
“My father is not overly fond of your king. He, and his court, decided that you Men should be left to your own fate.”
She returned her gaze to Hade’s. He started as he realized that he was being addressed by the princess of the elves. He wasn’t sure if he should take a knee, or if that would be a traitorous act.
He decided to do nothing. It felt to him like she was judging his reaction to her words.
“And…you changed his mind?” the soldier responded, hesitant.
That seemed to strike a wound, and her expression darkened. Hade found that he felt a twinge with her, and marveled at how quickly he felt empathy toward her. Some part of his mind wondered if it was some magic she was working on him.
“No,” another glance to her nearest companion, “He did not sanction my journey here. I’m sorry to say that you will not be receiving aid from the elven army.”
She let the statement hang between them, and Hade felt hopes that had slowly been building during the exchange crumble. If the elves were not going to mobilize against the goblins…
“So, why the hell are you here?” He was unable to keep the frustration from his voice.
Several of the elves behind the princess made soft noises of aggression at the tone of his question. She silenced them with a curt tilt of her head and a quick hiss through the side of her mouth. She then stared at the human and again sized him up.
“I planned to see for myself how your outpost fared against the attack, and then, if need be, travel to Freehold and warn your king.”
She shrugged, then stooped to pick up his bow and arrow, regarding them for a moment before handing them back to him. Hade reached out with robotic movements and retrieved his weapon.
“Do you think your liege will listen to an elf girl?” Her eyes were practically boring into his, and he wondered what hidden meaning she might be trying to impart. Wearily, he gave up.
“I don’t see why not,” he sighed. He twisted to look behind him and then brought a s
erious look to bear against the elf princess.
“The fort has been sacked. You don’t need to see it. In fact, I’d rather not see it again.”
“I’m sorry.” She actually seemed sincere.
“The goblin force is huge, they take up the valley floor,” he went on.
“This is a force that will threaten the entire eastern frontier. The army needs to be mobilized. The bulk of our force has been standing watch on the southern marshes…the east is vulnerable.”
The last was almost a whisper, as if he were speaking to himself. The magnitude of what may happen to his homeland started to really sink in. He thought of entire towns sharing the fate of the ‘Folly and was filled with dread. She must have seen it.
“Hade,” she spoke through his malaise.
He looked up.
“We are only few, but we can help you. I am Ethelrynne Rivenbow, princess of the Arbor. I swear on my honor that my men and I will do all we can to aid you and your people.”
She had awkwardly extended her hand. Hade stared at it a moment, letting her words sink in. He took her gloved hand in his own and squeezed. She seemed to find novelty in the small act and returned the pressure.
Strangely, it made him smile.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty.”
Part of him couldn’t believe he was in the presence of royalty, let alone an elven princess! She dropped his hand and waved away the formality.
“Call me Ethelrynne, please.”
“As you wish,” he responded.
She flicked her eyes to her comrade and then back, trying to gauge if the human was mocking her. She broke into that dazzling grin again and Hade felt lighter.
“You are the first man I’ve met, Hade. I dare say I‘ve made the right decision in coming to your peoples’ aid. I just hope we can make a difference.”
Hade blew out a relieved breath. Maybe they could make something from this dire situation after all.
“I hope you’re right, Princess.”
He shouldered his bow and looked around at the stoic group. He spread his left arm wide, indicating the way to the west.
“Shall we?”
A quick clucking noise from the princess drew her unit into formation, and the group set off through the forest, hoping that they could beat the odds in more ways than one.
Chapter 13
Calistra stabbed at her dinner with gusto. She sat at the head of a long, luxurious oak table that ran nearly forty feet through the center of the opulent dining room. The hall was vast, paneled in dark wood and lit by an ornate chandelier gilded in gold. The clatter of her dishware echoed.
Seated directly to her right was a barrel-chested man in his mid-thirties. His name was Wielder Duln, and he was captain of the baroness’s household guard. His right eye stared down at the steak he was deliberately sawing through, his left was covered in a patch. His brown hair was pulled tight in a pony tail, his features seemingly pulled just as tight across his skull.
Where the baroness was a violent eater, betraying a bit of her volatile personality, Duln was a study in self-control. Barely a sound escaped his plate as he ate, in contrast to Calistra’s racket. Each cut of his steak was measured and nearly identical to the last, whereas his dinner companion hacked off strips with little regard.
It was a dichotomy that had worked for the Emberlock house these past few years, since the death of Calistra’s father, Baron Royce.
Her household guard had grown to a formidable force under the stern and disciplined command of Captain Duln. While many in the barony were experiencing tough times, some saw enlistment in the guard as a way out of starvation and poverty. It helped that Duln kept the men and women fighting trim, with laundered uniforms and polished gear.
Meanwhile, the fiery rhetoric that came from the baroness instilled a sense of pride in her subjects. The capital was far enough away that her people valued their independence and took pride in their rugged individualism. She fed into this sentiment whenever she got the chance, and fed on the people’s response.
The Barony of Lockhaven was situated far to the northwest of the capital of Freehold. It had a long history of staunch support of the Van Uther line and had put forth strong levies for the army in conflict after conflict. A distant cousin of the current king’s father, Royce Emberlock continued that relationship, some said to the ruin of the Barony.
It had been the rise of the mutants from the southern marshes that had pressed the all volunteer army of the Realm. The king had been desperate, and Royce had responded to the call of his friend with a draft of his own people. The wounds caused by so many young men and women being sent to a front on the other side of the Realm had yet to fully heal.
Calistra had watched her father, a tall and robust man, wither under the criticism of his people, who felt hurt and betrayed by his decision to force so many sons and daughters into the military.
Royce had been a man of honor, and his daughter watched that honor slowly strangle him. He never expressed regret for his choices, but each reprimand of a mother, each tearful shake of a father’s head struck him deeply.
Calistra had vowed upon his deathbed that she would make the king pay for what his rule had done to her family. She would rebuild the Lockhaven forces and find a way to make her home strong again, at any cost.
A confluence of events began just weeks after Royce’s untimely death which showed Calistra a path to reclaim her family’s glory.
Her mother, a kindly woman several years Royce’s senior, suffered greatly from his loss. She had become a shade of her former self, and abdicated all responsibility of ruling the Barony to Calistra. The young woman gladly took the reins and began her search for strong people with which she could surround herself and who would help ensure her victory.
She found Wielder Duln in the backwater town of Corwood. His accent belied the fact that he wasn’t from the area; he likely came from somewhere down on the coast. She was immediately intrigued.
He’d been acting as the town’s constable, and while the baroness had noticed his professional manner when they’d been introduced, it wasn’t until she’d been invited to witness his command of a militia as they stormed a bandit camp that she’d truly begun to see his potential worth.
The road out of Corwood was its lifeline, and for several months a steadily growing band of highwaymen had been harrying the few caravans that roved to and from the village with vital supplies and trade goods. Duln and his posse had finished their reconnaissance of the camp and had developed a plan to take it down.
As was only protocol, the constable had invited the visiting noble to supervise his assault. He fully expected she would demure. His surprise at her acceptance had amused her.
Duln had lead from the front. He was a bear in combat, and she had watched him dash the head of one murderous bandit against his companion’s shield before taking that man’s shield off with his arm. There was never a moment where Wielder wasn’t in the thick of it.
If Calistra had been impressed with his courage and skill in combat, she had been doubly so by the shades of her father’s sense of honor he displayed in dealing with those who surrendered. In her mind, he possessed the right combination of qualities she was looking for in a commander.
As the militia had marched their prisoners back to town, she had offered him the position of captain of her guard. The taciturn man had accepted, having witnessed the baroness whirl through her own body count during the assault and felt that she deserved his respect, and of course, his service.
Since then, he had been instrumental in rebuilding the guard, and had proven an invaluable advisor to the baroness in many matters. She She credited him with helping her turn the course of her land toward prosperity.
It had been the secret return of Malavarius Drejth from beyond the grave that had given her the final piece to a puzzle that showed her a future she hadn’t dreamt of. His plan was audacious, and had even scared the baroness at first, but Drejth’s
appeals to her need to avenge her father’s memory broke through any reservations she had.
Now, she was on the eve of enacting a plan that had taken more than a year to develop. Her frenetic eating habits had only grown more violent as the hour approached. At one point she lost her grip on the steak knife and cursed as it bounced to the carpet. She let out a grunt.
“It won’t be long before I’ll need to wear my sword to the table,” she smirked, but was obviously embarrassed by the lack of self control.
Duln said nothing.
She stared at him for a moment through thick eyelashes.
“The men are ready to go?” she prodded.
Duln inclined his head slightly, making eye contact with his liege. They had gone over this several times. There really weren’t many words that needed to be bandied about regarding the preparations. Still, he didn’t wish to offend the Baroness.
“You know they are, M’lady,” his voice was a rich baritone.
“You inspected them yourself.”
She waved her hand dismissively, forking a sprig of broccoli.
“Oh, I looked them over, I’ll give you that. But do you think they’re ready for the mission? You hand-picked each of them?”
“I do, and I did, M’lady. They’re good soldiers. They’ll do their jobs. We’ll succeed.”
“They’d better,” she snapped, perhaps too sharply.
“I don’t want another foul-up like at the mill.”
Duln said nothing, merely nodded curtly.
She munched the broccoli while watching him work through his meal methodically. She was acutely aware of their differences at that moment, and it made her uncomfortable, as most introspection did.
Irritated, she shoved her plate away.
“Very well,” she stood, her evening gown whirling around her shapely hips.
“I look forward to departing, come dawn. Get some rest, Captain.”
With that, she quit the dining room. Duln’s single eye lingered on her as she left, his hands halting their work. After a moment he looked up to a tapestry depicting Royce Emberlock in his heyday, frowned, and went back to his meal.
Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) Page 9
