by Lana Axe
Chapter 19
The sun was setting fast in the late afternoon sky as Reylana neared the area where the Sycamore Clan was last known to dwell. She could sense that a pair of eyes had spotted her, and she scanned the treetops looking for her kinsman. Movement stirred among the dried leaves, and an elf dropped quickly to the ground.
“Welcome, friend,” he said as he approached. His head was shaved bald except for a thin strip down the center that grew long enough to tie back into a ponytail.
“Sycamore Clan, I’m hoping,” Reylana said, her weariness apparent in her voice. She had traveled for days without stopping, and her shoulder still ached from the blow she received in her last battle.
“That’s right,” he replied, a broad smile spreading over his face. “I’m Nat. What brings one so lovely as you our direction? You’re Oak Leaf, right?”
“I am,” she began. “My name is Reylana. My village was recently destroyed by the Na’zoran army, and I’ve come seeking aid.”
“I’ve heard rumors about the war, but so far it hasn’t reached our village. We’re better protected being farther away from their borders. I’ll take you to our Overseer. I’m sure everyone will want to hear what you have to say.”
“I hope so,” she said, following the elf to his village. As she approached, she could hear the sounds of laughter and children playing. Nat had spoken true. This village had yet to be touched by the war. Reylana’s heart fluttered at the sight of their perfect little village. Dozens of huts stood proudly among the trees, and a large festival area still bore the signs of a recent celebration. This was the home she had longed for since her own village had been reduced to ashes.
Nat led the way to the Overseer’s hut. Stepping inside, he introduced her to the muscular elf who provided leadership for the Sycamore Clan. Though his hair was beginning to gray, his body was still in good shape. “Overseer, this is Reylana of the Oak Leaf Clan,” Nat said. “She’s come to discuss the war with us.”
“Welcome, Reylana,” he said. “I hope you have come alone by choice. Does the Oak Leaf Clan still survive?”
“They do,” she replied. “We are scattered, though. Those who cannot fight are crossing the river to safety. The warriors have journeyed north to continue the raids.”
“So the rumors are true then,” he commented, looking down at the ground. “I feared as much, but so far our clan has avoided any attacks. Tell me, is there any news of the other clans?”
“As far as I know the Silver Birch Clan is worse off than we are. They were driven from their homes and scattered throughout the Wildlands. My brother is hoping to locate them and bring them into our own group. I have no news of the other clans. A few elves from my clan were heading out in hopes of finding them.”
“I hope they are successful,” he replied.
“Me too. I’ve come to you hoping that you still have a rune carver among your ranks.”
“We do, but he is getting on in years. His apprentice is learning, but he isn’t progressing as quickly as his master would like.”
“We are in desperate need of runed weapons,” she said, the urgency apparent in her voice. “They are our only hope of defeating the Na’zorans or of standing a chance against their mages.”
“Though we haven’t encountered their armies yet, I have no doubts as to the value of such weapons. So far, we have only used them for hunting.”
“They are badly needed in war. I don’t know if any other rune carvers still live.”
He paused to think for a moment. “We will call a meeting of the clan tomorrow to discuss the matter. Nat can show you where to find dinner and a bed.”
“Thank you, Overseer,” she said with a nod of respect.
Nat and Reylana exited the Overseer’s hut. At the center of the village, a large cooking fire was just being lit.
“That’s where you’ll find dinner,” Nat said. “The hunters brought back elk today. There’s plenty for everyone.”
Reylana nodded, her stomach beginning to rumble. She hadn’t tasted meat in quite a while, and freshly roasted elk sounded wonderful.
“My hut is the one between those two trees,” Nat said, pointing. “My mate and I stay there. There’s room for one more, and we have blankets to spare.”
“Thank you,” she replied, still thinking about the food.
“I better get back to my watch,” Nat said. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and walked back into the forest.
Reylana joined the elves who were gathering around to cook the elk. Even with one bad arm, she was still able to help with some light cooking. She was greeted warmly by the others and helped herself to a mug of ale. As one woman cut chunks of meat and skewered them, Reylana placed them over the fire and turned them as necessary.
As the scent of the roasting meat filled her nostrils, she said, “This smells fantastic.” Her mouth was beginning to water.
The older woman nodded, handing her more meat to place on the fire. She was a quiet sort of person, but she was highly skilled at seasoning meat. Reylana had never been a very good cook, but she envied those who had the skill.
Once the meat had finished cooking, many of the elves gathered around the fire to enjoy a meal. The cooler weather meant fewer fresh greens to be found, but the clan had done well preserving jams which contained the finest fruits the summer had to offer. Their sweetness mingled in perfect harmony with the smoked meat, and Reylana could not remember the last time she had eaten so well.
The clansmen were friendly and welcomed her with open arms. For now, she enjoyed the company of a carefree clan and chose not to burden herself with talk of war. Convincing this clan to join the war could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she would sleep with hope returned to her heart.
* * * * *
The next morning was dark and cloudy with a sorrowful chill to the air. Winter had finally swallowed the land, providing shortened days and bitterly cold nights. With no huts and no opportunity to rebuild them, her clan could only look forward to a rough few months.
It was midmorning before the sun began to peek out from behind its cloudy mask. Its rays, however, provided little in the way of warmth. Reylana made her way to the center of town, where the Overseer was already gathering the clansmen together.
An elderly elf stood to the left of the Overseer. He had bright green eyes and thin gray hair. Despite his age, the elf appeared to be quite strong, and the muscles of his right arm appeared larger than his left. That must be the rune carver, she thought. All my hopes rest on his shoulders.
Catching sight of Reylana, the Overseer waved her to the front of the crowd. “Please be seated, everyone,” he said. “Our guest has arrived. Go ahead, Sister.”
She turned to face the assembled elves. “My brothers and sisters, I have come seeking help in the war that is spreading across the Wildlands. The Silver Birch Clan is nearly destroyed, and my own village has been reduced to dust. Our warriors continue to fight the Na’zorans, but without help from all of the clans we will surely fail. We need more warriors, and we need runed weapons if we are to prevail.”
Several voices spoke at once. The Overseer spread his hands, imploring the crowd to quiet down. “Darin,” he said, addressing the elderly smith. “Let us hear what you have to say.”
“I can’t speak for the warriors,” he replied, “but I can speak for myself. I will etch runes for any elf needing a better weapon. Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources or the strength to forge new weapons for an entire army. You’ll have to settle for your regular weapons with the addition of runes.”
“There is little more I could ask of you,” Reylana replied. “I thank you with all my heart.”
Darin nodded, wishing he could do more. He was too old to march into battle, but he would support his kinsmen in any way possible. “My apprentice does most of the smithing, so anyone needing a new weapon will have to speak with him. He hasn’t mastered the runes yet, so I’ll have to do those myself.”
“What say the
warriors?” the Overseer asked.
Again many voices spoke at once. A dark-haired archer stood to address the crowd. “If villages are being raided and ruined, we are needed here to defend our own. I won’t go riding off and allow the humans to take my home.”
Many voices sounded in agreement. “You could seek them out and stop them before they made it here,” Reylana said, losing her patience. “They will come for you in time, and you may not be able to stop them. My clan was prepared, but we still lost everything.”
A tall sword maiden stood and began to speak. “I would go and fight this war, but I also fear leaving our home unprotected. I may fight one group in the north while a second attacks my village. The elderly and children would be here to die at their hands. I cannot leave my home. Not yet.” She sat back down, her head bowed.
“You could help us stop this war before it gets worse,” Reylana said, pleading with the elves. “If you don’t help us, we will fail. Your clan will not be spared. You may be the last one on their list, but you will face the same fate as the rest of us.”
The voices in the crowd made it clear that the majority of elves had no intention of entering the war. They were too far removed from the Na’zoran border to be bothered with the scuffles between elves and humans. Reylana could find no words to convince them.
“It seems we will not be joining you after all,” the Overseer said with regret. “Personally, I agree with your remarks. I fear Na’zora will strike at us in time, and I wish there was some way to avoid that fate. However, leaving our village unattended is not an option.”
Reylana stared at him dumbfounded. “Did you become Overseer through cowardice?”
“Careful, Sister,” he said. “Your list of friends here is short. You may stay as long as you need, and our healer will be happy to tend to your injury. Darin has already agreed to assist you, and I hope you will consider that enough for the time being.”
As quickly as it had begun, the meeting came to an end. The elves dispersed and went about their business. Nat approached Reylana once the crowd was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There are some of us who would gladly join you in battle. I will speak to them and see if the Overseer would object to a small group of us coming with you. We have enough warriors to protect the village if only half of us join the war.”
“Thank you, Nat,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes. She had come all this way and failed. Her brother had trusted her with one important task, and she had been unable to complete it. The runed weapons would certainly help, but who would be left to wield them? Too many of her kinsmen had already died, and she wanted no more of the war. She wished she could be complacent like the members of the Sycamore Clan. If only she could pretend that the war was not her problem, then she could live on in peace and ignorance.
Unfortunately, she could not dismiss the facts and pretend there was no war. Once she was healed, she would return to her clan and continue to fight. To do anything less would be unimaginable. She was still a warrior, and she would continue the fight, even if it meant her death and the deaths of those she loved.
Chapter 20
“We’ll be at Al’marr by midday,” Atti said as he and Yori continued along the road. “One time I took a ship out of Al’marr and went all the way to the Sunswept Isles. Beautiful place, that is. Those elves aren’t friendly though. They hate everybody who isn’t them, and I bet they hate each other too.”
“What did you do there?” Yori asked curiously. He had heard very little of the Sunswept Isles, and he had never met anyone who had been there.
“Well, they have this big college there where they teach magic. They need all kinds of supplies, and I thought I’d make a fortune by selling gems over there. They use them in their magic, and supposedly they’re highly prized.”
“Let me guess,” Yori said. “You didn’t make a fortune.” He grinned at the old man.
Atti laughed and said, “No, I didn’t. Those elves act like nothing a human merchant brings is ever good enough. They nitpick and try to cheat you on the prices. I didn’t bother trying to sell them any other goods since they buy most everything else from Ral’nassa. That place is full of more uppity elves, but I guess they like them better than us humans.”
“Do you know what they do with the gems?”
“Not really. I’ve heard they have lots of different uses in magic. I’ve seen swords that have special gems set in them that supposedly contain magical powers. I’ve never met a smith in Na’zora or Al’marr that could do such a thing. I suppose you have to go to the Sunswept Isles or Ral’nassa for that. Assuming you can stand those uppity bastards long enough to learn anything. I got out of there after only two days, and I don’t plan to ever visit Ral’nassa. I can’t imagine those elves being any more welcoming.”
Yori wondered how the Enlightened Elves of the islands could be so different from the Wild Elves. If the old legends were correct, they all came from the same place originally. The First Ones, or Westerling Elves as they were now referred to, had given rise to both the Woodland Elves and the Island Elves. The two groups had followed different paths: one worshiping nature, and the other lusting for magical power.
The two continued along the road as the early winter sun tried its best to warm the sky. The chill in the air showed no signs of bending to the sun’s will and continued to steal the heat from every warm body it encountered. The wind joined in the game, multiplying the chill as it danced across the road.
Finally, a border town came into sight. Yori could hear voices shouting in the distance, and the smell of freshly roasted meat wafted on the breeze.
“That’s the biggest market town on the northern border of Al’marr,” Atti said. “They call it Marrel. Don’t confuse that with the port city in the south called Marron. I wonder whose silly idea it was to name them so close to the same thing.”
“Is Marron where you took the ship to the islands?”
“Yes it was,” he replied. “You thinking about going there?”
“Maybe someday,” Yori said, shrugging.
“I hope they treat you better than they did me, but that was at least thirty years ago. Maybe things have changed.”
They arrived in Marrel, and Atti drove his wagon to a large warehouse. Yori gladly helped the old man unload his wares, most of which were already sold to the local merchants. Atti had done business in Marrel for so many years that he had standing orders to fill. He spent very little time having to find new business or convince others to buy from him. His reputation as honest and fair had provided him with a loyal customer base.
Once they had finished unloading, Atti said, “You sure you want to keep traveling? I could use a strong young man to help move these goods back and forth. I can pay a decent wage.”
Yori considered the idea briefly. “Thank you, Atti, but I’ll have to pass for now. I appreciate the offer.”
“Alright,” Atti said. “You take care out there, and if you pass by my way again, feel free to say hello.”
“I will,” Yori replied. He shook the old man’s hand before leaving to explore the town. It was easily three times the size of Enald, with merchant stalls spread as far as he could see. It was so similar to the palace district’s market that he couldn’t help but remember the events that had occurred there to change his life forever. He scanned the nearby stalls for any signs of elves or elven goods. Seeing nothing, he decided to grab something to eat and perhaps inquire of some of the local merchants.
He found a tavern that was nearly bursting at the seams with customers. Squeezing his way through the crowd, he managed to find the bar and a serving girl. She was young and buxom with dark eyes and a broad smile.
“What can I get for you, handsome?” she asked.
Yori felt himself blush, and his mouth went dry. “An ale, please,” he managed to say. “And can I get some meat and bread as well?”
“Sure thing,” she said. “Five coppers, please.” She held out a hand for the m
oney.
Reaching into the small purse given to him by the prince, he pulled out a silver coin and handed it to the girl.
“This is Na’zoran money,” she said with a smile. “It’s a pleasure to have you in Al’marr.”
Yori had expected some change in return, but the girl simply put the coin into her apron pocket and batted her eyelashes at him. Too stunned to speak, he did not say a word. She was certainly pretty enough to earn a large tip, and Yori had never been very good with money. His experience with it was only slightly more than his experience with women.
The girl trotted off into the kitchen to retrieve Yori’s food. When she returned, she brought the items he had requested as well as a large slice of berry pie. After she placed the items on the bar, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. Yori stared at her, dumbstruck, until he was startled back to his senses by the sound of coins jingling onto the bar. She had given him change for his silver after all. Flashing him a final smile, the girl headed off into the crowd to see to her other customers.
Once he finished eating, he slipped back through the crowd and walked along a row of merchant stalls. Just ahead, he caught sight of wooden longbows hanging on pegs inside of a shop. Surely a fletcher would know where to find Wild Elves. He made his way to the stall and stepped inside. To his surprise, an elf sat within affixing feathers to an arrow shaft.
The elf looked up and said, “Good day, sir. How may I serve you?”
“Actually,” Yori began, “I’m looking for an elf.”
“Which one?” the elf asked.
“Someone from the Sycamore Clan,” Yori said.
The elf smiled and stood. “I’m from the Sycamore Clan,” he said. He approached Yori and reached out a hand. “My name’s Hydon.”
“I’m Yori,” he replied, shaking the elf’s hand. Yori suddenly found himself feeling a bit nervous. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say, so he remained silent. Removing his cap, he brushed back his sandy hair to reveal his pointed ears. Startled, the elf jerked his head back as if he had just been swatted on the nose.
