by Jack Bessie
It was nearing dusk, on the evening of the warrior’s return, when two large and stout Eridians arrived, to drag him from his place. He was cleaned off by an Eridian female, using cold water and a rough cloth, before being taken and tossed on a pile of furs in a small cabin. His clothing had been taken from him on his arrival, and he had been naked during all four days of his captivity.
The furs felt amazingly soft, compared to what he had been lying on, and he merely relaxed, while waiting for something else to occur. The interior was dark, there being only one window, had there been any light outside to let in. He heard the door open, and a female order someone to be watchful. The door closed, and he listened to this person walk across the rough plank floor, avoiding his place. After a few small sounds, a light burst forth, as a lamp was lit. A second one was soon burning, and by this light, Rasten could see who was present; it was Shocara.
She stepped close, to look down on him, her face hard to read, the shadows hiding much of her features. She carefully knelt, examining his nakedness.
“Do you know who I am?” she wondered, poking his strong muscles with a finger.
“You are called Shocara, Princess!” he replied in his dubious Eridian. This surprised and delighted her.
“You speak our language? How is that so?”
“I wished to learn, so that I might better understand your people. One should not fight an enemy they have no understanding of,” he declared.
“You are deeper than I expected! Why does a human fight for the Elvin?!” she demanded. Rasten hesitated to reply, worried that declaring himself half-Elvin would only make him more likely to be abused. This possibility occurred to Shocara also.
“You are not...you are half-Elvin?!” she snarled, suddenly angry.
“I am what I am. Do you wage this war only from a hatred of the Elvin?” he asked. This made her pause, frowning.
“We fight to avenge all we have lost!” she hissed.
“But each time, more die, and more are wounded or lost. How will it ever end?” Rasten asked. He quickly found a dagger at his throat.
“It will end when all the Elvin are gone, and we are free of their oppression!” she insisted. Rasten looked at her as though she were a slow child.
“Princess, do you not know how badly you are out numbered by the Elvin? You could kill a hundred...a thousand for each one of you lost, and perish long before the Elvin dwindled! They only wish to be at peace with you!”
“Then why do they keep killing us?”
“Because you keep attacking them?” Rasten sighed. Shocara laughed at this.
“Perhaps what you say is true...but we know no other way to be! We are warriors, and our valor is all we have!”
“What shall you do with me? Trade me for some of your people or other things?”
Shocara thought this amusing.
“We hold a death rite for any Eridian who is captured, since none ever return. You will go nowhere. We can always use a strong slave!”
She watched him for several moments, before speaking more.
“You are important!”
“I am just a warrior,” he said and shrugged. Shocara slapped his face hard.
“Do not lie to me, and treat me as a fool! The Elvin followed your commands! You are no ordinary warrior!” she hissed, viciously.
“The Elvin have many who might lead, depending on what task is at hand. I am as capable of following orders, as giving them!” he replied, his cheek burning from her hand. Shocara again watched, before hopping up, and going to the other side of her small cabin. She returned with his sword, drawing it fully. She examined it well in the lamp light, marveling at the engraving, which ran the full length of the blade. Even after fighting herself and other warriors, the edges were razor sharp, and showed no wear.
“You tell me this is the sword of a common warrior? It is a work of great beauty, which our people can scarce dream of! I have seen many of the swords of the Elvin warrior...this is not a common one. You are special! Are you a prince?” she asked, watching him closely.
“No...I would have to do much to earn such a title!”
“What do you mean? You are not a child of royalty?” she demanded. Rasten chuckled at this.
“Dear Princess...the Elvin have no such thing! All titles and positions are granted for the doing of great deeds. Often the children of leaders are much less than able to lead! The Elvin avoid that trap, allowing only the proven ones to hold positions of honor!”
“My father led us for many years!” she replied, “do you think me less able, for being his daughter?” she asked, eager to put him in an awkward place.
“You seem quite creative and willing to try original things. The Elvin respect that, and would hope you might consider even more new ideas!”
“Such as?”
“Peace. You like my sword?”
“Of course...I shall keep it! I wish that all my warriors might have such a thing!” she laughed.
“They could...were you willing to stop this senseless war, the Elvin would teach you all of their crafts, from the working of stone, to the making of swords!”
“I find that unlikely...why would they trust us to not turn against them?”
“Princess...” Rasten sighed, exasperated by her stubbornness. “There are hundreds of worlds where the Elvin vanquished other’s who had done wicked things. Those peoples are now free and friends, well trusted, and comrades in arms! Your people could have the same relationship!”
“One of my people returned to us, carrying the same words. Have you been on these other worlds?”
“Not many...I am only recently arrived here, and...”
“You are Sayarin’s son!” she exclaimed, poking him with her finger. Her eyes were wide and she evinced a wicked delight. “And you are mine!” she added, her delight and pride boundless. “Will you deny that you are?!” she demanded, looking like an excited young girl. Capturing such a one would well secure her position as a worthy Eridian warrior.
“What if I am?” Rasten demanded. “You could trade me for much wealth!”
“You think they might well ransom you? Or would they sacrifice you and simply kill all of our people!” she snarled.
“Princess...they don’t want to kill any of you! Why is that so hard to understand?”
“Perhaps because we know no other thing than war! We certainly have none of your riches or wealth, none of your skills or sorcery. Our people wear out and die, their lives hard and miserable, even without the fighting!” she complained.
“Shocara? That is so needless! The Elvin wish to free you from your misery and want, not make it worse!”
“Yet you came to attack us with a large force of warriors! How was that to be helpful to us?” she laughed.
“We thought it needful, to recover our females. You’ve hidden them again?”
“Of course! I do wish to return them, but considered them useful, should you have your way with us!”
“The Elvin would well regard you, should you send them back unharmed...”
“I’m sure they would!” she laughed. “but that does little to help our lives be better!”
“Princess...there are great tracks of land on this world, untouched and unoccupied, far greater than what your people have ever held, and it is rich land also! A hundred times your present population could live there comfortably,” Rasten suggested.
“And where is this land? Why would the Elvin give us such a thing?!”
“It is south east of your lands, past a range of mountains. It extends a vast distant easterly, before it ends at a...” Rasten stopped, realizing there was no word in Eridian for ocean. “You saw the lake by Alarinad?”
Shocara nodded. “It is water, like a thousands lakes!” he said, hoping she might understand.
“I can not imagine such a thing! Have you seen it?”
“Not this one, but on the world of my birth, I saw several. They are so vast, you could not cross on a terranak!” he suggested
. Shocara looked enchanted.
“I should like to see such a thing!” she sighed.
“Take me back to Alarinad, and I can take you to view it!” Rasten suggested. Shocara patted his cheek.
“You are funny...I like that! Your ass is going nowhere! All will be thrilled with my catch!” she declared, clearly pleased. She sheathed the sword, and stood up, laying it on a small, rough table, before bending over to get something else. She returned with Rasten’s mail, sitting back down cross legged, and holding it up for him to see.
“Do you know how these are made?”
“No...the Elvin smiths make them. I gather they take much work and time.”
“They are made of zumarka! That makes them valuable, doesn’t it?!”
“I suppose. The Elvin think little of that...they use it because it is light and strong!”
“It is accursedly so! Our blades can scarcely penetrate it! The Elvin would teach us how to work this also?”
“Of course...should we be at peace, you might have Eridian youth become apprentices, and learn all of the Elvin crafts! Many others come from far worlds, to study and learn, both here and on the myriad Elvin worlds. You are jealous of the Elvin, their skills and ways, are you not?”
“Perhaps. It seems unfair, that we have so little...” she sighed. “So answer me! Why would the Elvin give us such valuable land, as you speak of?”
“Princess...the Elvin are not native to this world...do you know that?”
Shocara frowned. “What does that mean?!”
“It means they came here from elsewhere, far longer ago than you can imagine! They chose this place to be their capital, because it was nearly at the center of all their worlds. Only your people and the Sacarini lived here, in small settlements. Your people were far away from where they chose to settle, probably to avoid the others; they were pretty aggressive and wicked. They eventually annoyed the Elvin too much, and were dealt with sternly. The Elvin wished to leave your people alone, to let you be as you pleased. But every time you’ve grown and spread out, you’ve attacked the Elvin. That gets you beat back and reduced, until the cycle repeats!”
Shocara seemed amazed to hear such a tale regarding her people, their own stories and legends telling none of this.
“You suggest that the Elvin know our history...more even than we do?”
Princess...the Elvin came here to settle...” he stopped, confronted by the lack of a word for millions, Eridian having no such. “it’s like a thousand times a thousand, years ago. Their history spans far more than that!”
“And all those years, they just ignored us?! Until we started to attack them? Why did they not help us long ago?!” she demanded, this seeming a huge slight to her barbarian sense of things.
“Shocara, had they done so long ago, you would not be Eridians...you would have long ago surrendered your skill at arms, and would be like the humans who live amoung the Elvin. They hoped you would stay yourselves, strong and proud, but would develop the desire to grow and gain what they could give you! They do such with all people they find. The Elvin wish for the many peoples to be comrades, not subjects and slaves!”
Shocara thought this much to her liking, but was still feeling slighted somehow.
“So the Elvin don’t belong here!” she declared, crossing her arms and looking pouty.
“Dear Princess...almost a billion Elvin exist here, and have now for more years than you can count. They aren’t going anywhere!” Rasten laughed. He soon had a dagger at his throat.
“You aren’t either!” Shocara hissed, angry, before she grinned, running her hand over his naked muscles.
2
Amein had been on her way back to Alarinad from the Elvin world of Am-Anarian when she received an urgent message which had been relayed from Tieneri. It had been brief and less than informative, her young elf likely wishing to deliver terrible news in person. It had said simply, Elvin forces ambushed by mass of Eridians, heavy casualties. No Elvin captives present at village.
Amein knew from experience that further enquires would be pointless, her assistant precise and well able to resist her badgering. Instead, she concentrated on getting back as fast as possible. She had confronted horrid news before, and knew well how to stay focused and disciplined, resisting the urge to speculate about what might be involved.
Still, she was now confronted by a stronger feeling of dread, understanding how much deeper her feelings for Rasten were than for even her siblings. She had worried many times, having sent various ones of her family off to fight, and had more than once lost someone. While tragic and dire, none had tormented her like the possible loss of Rasten promised to do.
When she emerged from the gate at the Citadel, she quickly looked at those manning it, looking for any sign of sadness or pity for her. She could see no such, and this heartened her a bit.
“Greetings Princess...was your journey productive?” the gate keeper asked.
“It went well...I was summoned to return urgently. Do you know why?” she asked, and held her breath.
“No...I’m sure your people in the Citadel will inform you!” the elf suggested, giving no hint of dishonesty or evasion. None other displayed such either.
“I should hope so!” she said, and managed a weak smile.
It took much effort not to run, but she was soon striding into the entry, intent on going to her office, and seeking out Tineria. Instead, her father’s statue caught her eye, and she felt drawn to it, stepping up to stand and gaze.
What words might you counsel, to give me strength? she wondered, knowing that Sayarin had lost many friends and companions in his years of war. Nothing came to her, and she stood staring, until the soft voice of Tineria intruded from behind her.
“Princess?” she whispered, having been advised by the gate keeper of Amein’s arrival, as she had ordered.
Amein managed to turn and face her assistant. “Sit!” the young elf commanded, then looked guilty for being so bold.
“Please, Princess?” she added, gesturing. Amein turned and sat, and Tineria did likewise, both turned to face each other.
“Is it as bad as I fear?” Amein managed to ask.
“I can not answer to how the battle went or what occured. All I can speak to is this; Rasten did not return with the Elvin. Kimarein informs us that he was battling Shocara, one on one, and that they pulled away from the main battle, deeper into the forest. None saw either of them after that, and being driven back, Kimarien chose to withdraw, rather than sacrifice more of our warriors...”
“So none can say if he fell or is captive?” Amein asked, searching for anyway to avoid complete despair. “I would speak with Kimarien and the other commanders, and hear a fuller telling.”
“It is late, Princess, would you rather wait until morning?”
“No...ignorance will make no pillow for me tonight...I need to know all aspects of what we faced!”
“I will see to it at once!” Tineria assured her, but instead of leaping up, she hesitated. “I’m sorry!” she whispered, knowing her words inadequate, but eager to offer some comfort. They swiftly embraced, both overcome, and sat several minutes, before parting.
“Thank you...no words will ever heal such a wound, or banish this misery, but I am grateful for your care!” Amein sighed, wiping at her eyes.
When she parted from Tinaria, she went to her rooms to change, but soon regretted it, seeing Rasten’s things bringing her to tears. She threw herself onto her bed, and hugged a pillow, crying helplessly, no longer able to hold in her misery. Several of her attendants, who had heard rumor of Rasten’s fall, came to watch, unsure whether to come to her or to grant her privacy. They finally came close, and sat, surrounding her on the bed and waited.
When she had stopped her tears, and pulled away from her pillow, she discovered them, several offering her a hankie, and all looking sad and concerned.
“You’ve heard?” she managed to ask, knowing such gossip would have been well spread and shared.
“Of course...Princess...there is little we might do to sooth you, but do not hesitate to ask it of us,” one whispered.
Her helpers got her to sit up, and one wiped her face with a warm and damp cloth, before drying it. A glance in a hand mirror showed her eyes red and swollen. but she was otherwise presentable.
“Thank you...” she sighed, before going out.
When she reached the meeting room where the commanders had gathered, all stood quickly upon her entry. Kimarien, who had served her since she was made Princess, bowed to her.
“Princess, I am much grieved to be the bearer of such unpleasant news!”
“Kimarien...there are no guarantees in life...we all know this. We lose many, who are dear, no matter what our hearts desire! Come, tell me all that occurred!” she managed to say, hoping her voice wouldn’t fail.
They sat long, as all told parts of what had occurred, each contributing what they had seen. Amein listened intently, asking an occasional question, wanting to fully comprehend how the Elvin had been beaten. When all had fallen silent, they waited to hear what Amein thought of their story.
“The Eridians knew you were coming! And worse, they knew well in advance, so that they were able to move the captives and all their women and children. The men at the village...their job was to get you to go to Sardac!”
“Lord Rasten thought that likely also...our first thought was to go attack under cover of darkness, but upon reflection, he decided we should wait. That allowed us to rest, and arrive at dawn fresh, and we did catch the Eridians asleep or tired. Had we attacked in the dark, we would have been easily overwhelmed, considering where they had placed themselves,” Kimarien insisted bitterly.
