by J. P. Ashman
One of the council members, a tall – even for an elf – male with long, bright red hair rose from his ornately carved chair, the markings of which were similar to those covering the bridge to the Middle Wood. The male elf held his arms out wide and smiled.
‘Welcome friends. Welcome to our home.’ He lowered his arms and sat back down, looking from side to side as the other council members nodded their agreement. ‘Who will be speaking to us this fine morning, will it be you Lady Burr, or Lord Severun?’
Correia looked to Severun and then stepped forward, seemingly very calm under the probing eyes of the elf council. ‘I will, my lord,’ she answered humbly.
‘Very well, Lady Burr, continue if you please.’ The elf lord’s voice was as if from a dream, and mixed with the rays of sunshine and the gentle breeze that kissed the faces of those present, the humans could easily have mistaken the whole experience for just that. Fal was impressed further still that the council were speaking Altolnan and not elvish, especially since it was the humans who were guests in the elves’ own council chambers. A courtesy he was sure other nations or races would not receive in his own King’s court, despite King Barrison’s good nature.
‘My lords and ladies,’ Correia began, ensuring she made eye contact with them all. ‘First of all, I want to offer our sincere gratitude for your aid in our quest. Whether you know it or not, your ranger, Errolas, as well as your Meadow Guard, especially Lord Nelem here, have aided us greatly in reaching you.’ Correia continued to explain the arduous journey the group had taken to reach the council and how important it was they delivered their message swiftly and in full.
Correia went on to tell the council about the plague and the terrible grip it held on Wesson. She also explained that King Barrison had ordered the city quarantined as soon as was possible, but how he and his advisors believed it wouldn’t stop the plague for much longer. She told them the King feared the plague could spread outside the city and further a field, perhaps even towards Broadleaf Forest itself.
Before Correia could mention Severun, the eldest female elf spoke, her voice sounding tired, but no less sweet and soft than any of the elves the humans had encountered thus far, save perhaps for the child Correia had spoken to by the bridge.
‘Lady Burr,’ the old elf interrupted, ‘my name is Lady Frewin and it is a pleasure to meet you at last. We have heard much of your travels in years past, and I have said many times to Lord Anthral here,’ she gestured to another elderly elf who sat next to her, ‘what a pleasure it would be to finally meet you in person.’
‘Thank you, Lady Frewin. It is a genuine pleasure to finally visit your realm.’ Correia gave the most sincere smile any of the humans had ever seen her give.
‘My concern, Lady Burr, is the origin of this plague your city is suffering. We lost contact with Errolas whilst he was investigating arcane magics within Wesson and since then—’
The tall, red haired elf who'd greeted the group spoke then, his eyes fixed on Severun.
‘Since then, your plague has appeared, and I say your plague, because it is in our mind that the plague was created by you, Lord Severun. Am I right?’
Everyone in the room turned to the wizard then, whose head lifted slightly as he took a step forward. The eight council guards, their ornate bronzed armour similar to those who stood guard by the bridge into the Middle Wood, took several swift, almost silent steps forward before being waved back by Lady Frewin.
‘You are correct in your assumption, Lord..?’ Severun’s voice shook ever so slightly, and so Errolas took a step forward to steady the wizard, who Fal now thought looked older, much older than before.
‘Lord Errwin-Roe,’ the red haired elf replied. ‘And it is no assumption.’
Errolas conceded the point with a single nod. ‘Lord Errwin-Roe, I did, it seems, create, or at least release, the plague that now sweeps and destroys my home—’
‘Please,’ Correia interrupted, but Severun held up his hand and the Spymaster held her tongue.
‘I do not wish to be defended, Correia. I have held court with my own peers and have received my punishment; death as far as the masses are concerned and banishment from my former life, from Wesson and Altoln itself once the plague has been dealt with. That is my punishment.’
Both Fal and Sav gasped, and looked at each other before realising how loud they'd been. They lowered their heads whilst Severun continued.
‘It is not me that we are here for, although I would accept any further punishment readily, knowing as I do, that I have done a great wrong to my own people. It is those people, alas, who need your help now, my lords and ladies. I have released something our mages cannot cure, at least not in the grand scale that is needed, if at all. King Barrison calls on you for aid, to honour the treaty and to help prevent, if nothing else, this plague from spreading further still.’
‘Lord Severun,’ Anthral said. ‘We are not here to judge you. As you so rightly say, your own King has done that as he sees fit, and it is his place, not ours. What you and your people have come to ask us for is aid, whether it be medical, magical or otherwise, aid is what you need. It is not for any one of us, however, to decide on that matter alone. You must understand we need to discuss this in private. We have many things to discuss, and that succubus head our Lord Nelem is carrying there is one such thing. So please, if you all will allow it, let us have our time to discuss matters. You may wait in comfort and we shall call upon you when we are decided.’
‘Lord Nelem,’ Errwin-Roe said.
‘Yes, my lord?’
‘We wish you to stay here. Errolas escort our guests to a waiting chamber and have food and drink brought for them. We will try to be as swift as the situation will allow.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ both Nelem and Errolas replied at the same time.
Errolas escorted the humans across to a side door, the hinges of which were living branches that opened the great leaf-covered door as they approached. Inside were jutting pieces of wood covered in lavishly embroidered cushions, all of which created comfortable seating areas and tables. As soon as they'd all taken their seats, another door opened and several elves swept through wearing elegant purple robes with silver patterns embroidered across them. They carried bronze platters of exotic looking fruits and silver chalices of crystal clear water.
Correia snapped at Gleave when he asked if they had ale, and the group managed a laugh between them, although the atmosphere was tense. Gleave was clearly struggling with Mearson’s death and everyone thought it wise to give the man some space, which after the brief laugh about the ale, meant no one said a word for quite some time. Eventually, Sav broke the silence by asking what Fal’s name meant, and why he’d never told him before. Fal’s face reddened again, but before he could answer, the main door opened once more and Lord Nelem strode in, inviting them back into the council hall.
The group looked to one another and rose in silence, their hearts pounding in anticipation at what the council had decided. They followed Nelem and Errolas out and back across to the centre of the hall to take place in front of the council members.
They soon noticed one of the council members, a pale skinned black haired male who'd been sat on the far right of the dais, had disappeared. The remaining members looked tense.
Lord Errwin-Roe stood again and so did the other four council members, their swirling robes shimmering in the rays of sun filtering down through the leaves above. Their movements were accompanied by the chirruping of a goldfinch flock. The small, red-faced birds flitted about the hall regardless of the seriousness of the scene below them.
‘The council has discussed these matters and has come to a decision,’ Errwin-Roe announced, a frown upon his angular features. ‘A decision I’m afraid not all of our members were pleased to hear.’ The atmosphere was almost palpable as no one in the room dared look to the empty chair on the far right.
Looking to each human in turn, Errwin-Roe continued. ‘Lord Salkeld has, unfortunately, left the hal
l due to our decision. He is unhappy due to the cause of the plague in Wesson, as well as other things that do not concern you as a group.’
The elf lord’s eyes seemed to linger on Correia longer than she would have liked, and a cold, unpleasant shudder ran through her body.
‘As for King Barrison’s request,’ the red haired elf lord continued, ‘we grant that request in the form of both medical and magical aid, to be sent to Wesson as soon as some much needed information is passed on to us from Lord Severun regarding the arcane magics that were used.’ Severun nodded several times and everyone in the group breathed a sigh of relief, although they still feared what else was to come.
‘Lord Severun,’ Errwin-Roe said, ‘if you could follow Lord Nelem, he will escort you to our clerics, who have been asked to gather for your arrival.’
‘But of course,’ Severun agreed, before being led by Nelem, who held the weakened wizard’s arm gently, across the hall and through the main doors.
‘Lady Burr.’
‘Yes, Lord Errwin-Roe.’
‘It has been brought to my attention that Altoln as a nation has been using black powder weapons for at least test purposes, and who knows what else? We wish to hear your comments on this please. I do not need to remind you of our military treaties regarding such substances do I?’
Correia stood straight and tall before answering, although Fal felt he couldn’t look upon the elf council’s accusing eyes. ‘I’m afraid, my lords and ladies, that this isn’t a subject I am at liberty to discuss without my King’s knowledge. May I most respectfully suggest that your advisors seek an audience with him on their arrival to Wesson?’
Both Fal and Sav glanced at each other quickly, and Fal noticed Starks swallowing, rather obviously. He was clearly nervous with the whole situation, as were they all.
You’ve done grand, lad, nothing for you to worry about. I just wish I could tell you that right now, although I’m not sure whether we have anything to worry about or not myself at this point, if I’m honest.
Lord Errwin-Roe looked annoyed, but didn't answer. To Correia’s surprise, the answer came from the back of the room.
‘Seek an audience with him? Are you serious, human?’
Everyone in the room turned to see the council member who'd left during the decision making process. He stood by the main door, two armoured warriors by his side, their skin pale and their hair as black as their armour. The council member’s hair matched his warriors’, although his was tied high in a ponytail. His colourful robes had been replaced with a black cloak and sleek, form fitting dark green armour that accentuated his muscular torso. A black leather wrapped sword hilt protruded from behind his right shoulder; a two handed grip to a large great-sword strapped diagonally to his back.
Anthral visibly shook with rage. ‘Lord Salkeld, you chose to leave this discussion before it had ended, do not presume you can walk back in and resume your side of the argument after our decision has been made.’ Anthral’s ancient form rose slightly in his chair as the dark featured elf at the back of the hall laughed.
‘Quiet, you old fool. I’m not here for lectures on history so I need not listen to your ramblings.’
‘Enough!’ The beautiful council member to Errwin-Roe’s right shouted in place of Anthral, who looked too stunned by Lord Salkeld’s outburst to make comment himself. She stood as she shouted, her pale face flushing red with anger as she glared past the humans stood before her, to the armour clad councillor by the door. Her blue-black hair, hanging almost to the back of her knees, spread out lightly, dancing with static at the tips as she took a step forward. The wood at her feet visibly darkened as she did so. Her fingers flexed, almost contorted as her beautiful features hardened into something fierce.
Briefly turning to look at the elf councillor behind him, Fal saw the confident air about Lord Salkeld falter under the she-elf’s fiery gaze, but the elf lord managed to go on despite his obvious fear of her.
‘You cannot expect to run to their aid after they play with dark powers they know nothing of, and use black powder they cannot understand? It is folly is all I say. Now calm yourself, sister, I apologise for my outburst, to you and to Lord Anthral, but I foresee great sorrow with the continuation of their kingdom. It has moved against us before. Who, or what, will stop it doing so again?’
‘You act like a child, brother,’ the elegant elf maiden replied, her face softening slightly and the wood at her feet lightening in colour once again. ‘You always see the pain and despair in things, never the joy or hope. These aren’t games we play, there are hundreds, possibly thousands of humans… living beings, dying in Wesson, and they need our aid, Arrlo. Would you have us abandon them for the errors of a minority centuries ago, or the errors of one man who is now meeting with our clerics to end this disease before it spreads beyond their city walls?’
Arrlo Salkeld’s shoulders dropped slightly, his stance relaxing as his eyes searched the floor at his feet for answers.
‘I’m not happy with the black powder, it needs dealing with,’ he said, finally looking back to his sister, yet avoiding eye contact with any other council member.
‘It will be,’ Errwin-Roe assured Arrlo, ‘but diplomatically and with King Barrison himself, not our guests here. They deliver a message and ask for aid and we shall honour our treaty, even if their King does not.’
Fal felt cold at those words and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Turning once again, he noticed Lord Salkeld’s sly grin. The dark armoured elf bowed low then, his long pony tail falling forward across his left shoulder, before he turned and left the hall, his two warriors close on his heels.
‘I must apologise for my brother’s behaviour, it is most embarrassing, but he is young. In fact, he is the youngest ever to be placed on the council. Sometimes I wonder why he ever… well, let us not press the matter, we have much to organise.
‘Lady Burr. If you wouldn’t mind, we would like to discuss the return journey with you, and what supplies and aid we can offer.’
‘Very well, my lady.’
‘Please, you must call me Serra, I insist.’
Correia smiled sincerely as she was guided from the hall by Serra Salkeld.
‘Sergeants, scout and crossbowman,’ Errwin-Roe said, his smile returning sincerely. ‘Lord Nelem tells me of your bravery outside the Woodmoat, as well as the tales Errolas has told him of the fight to defend Beresford from a vile goblin horde. You all look tired and your equipment in need of repair. Let our artisans take care of your equipment while you rest and await your return to Wesson. Follow me and I will have it all taken care of for you.’
‘Thank you, Lord Errwin-Roe,’ Fal said, beaming as he and the others bowed low to the tall, red haired elf lord.
‘Oh, enough of that. You are guests and the formalities are over, the council has made its decision and you cannot leave for Wesson until all has been arranged, therefore, we may as well enjoy ourselves in the meantime. What say you?’
Fal, Sav and Starks grinned and looked at one another before voicing their agreement. Gleave looked tired and made no comment or expression other than a swift nod towards the elf lord. They followed Errwin-Roe across the hall as the two older council members fell into discussion once more. Fal overheard Lord Salkeld’s name mentioned, but nothing else.
The group passed through another leaf covered door into a room similar to the one they'd visited before, but much larger and much more lavishly decorated, although they hadn’t thought that possible. Elves appeared almost immediately and took their weapons and armour, assuring them they were in good hands. More food was brought forth, the smell coming from the platters reminding everyone present of fond memories, some of which they'd forgotten until that moment.
How is it a smell can trigger such recollection of memories I forgot I even had? Fal scooped up and took in the scent of an unusual fruit, its sweet aroma reminding him of his father and the games they used to play when he was very young, growing up on the Orismaran
coast.
Wine followed the food, much to the delight of all, and Fal was pleased to see Gleave lighten up slightly after consuming some of the crimson liquid. Despite the laughter, merriment and the sun still being high in the sky, Starks fell asleep after one glass of the elven wine, much to the mirth of all – Sav especially.
Once the food had been eaten and the few remaining scraps taken away, Errwin-Roe encouraged the three of them to tell him about the plague, and when that topic was exhausted, they told him about the fight with the monster in the cave and their amazement and joy at seeing his dream worthy home. After that, the three men heard stories centuries old, both from Errwin-Roe’s own experience and from what Lady Frewin and Lord Anthral had told him. For the two elderly elves had witnessed the battles against Crackador and his Naga, being they were the oldest elves still alive in Broadleaf Forest.
As the stories continued throughout the afternoon, Sav and Gleave – through near exhaustion and injury – fell asleep where they sat. Fal took the opportunity to talk of Orismar and the meaning of his name, to which Errwin-Roe smiled, patted Fal on the shoulder and motioned for him to wake the others.
‘It is time for us to entertain you on the forest floor,’ the elf lord said, smiling and moving to the door. ‘It is rare indeed we welcome visitors, and there will be plenty of others who wish to hear your tales and tell you their own.’
If Wesson wasn’t in such grave danger, I’m not sure I could force myself to leave this place. Fal smiled and nodded, before waking each of his friends.
Chapter 44: Threats and Promises
‘I’ve told you this is a mistake,’ Arrlo Salkeld argued, as he paced from one end of the treetop balcony to the other.
His two, black-armoured guards respectfully averted their eyes from their lord’s beautiful sister, who tried to calm her angry brother.
‘And I’ve told you, brother, it is the council’s final decision to help the humans.’
