War Of The Wildlands

by Lana Axe

  “How much longer until we reach Na’zora?” Lisalla asked.

  “They say we’ll reach the border in a day or so. After that, it’s two or three days to the palace.” Danna could not count how many times she had answered that question since setting out from home.

  “Why must it take so long?” Lisalla asked. She stretched her neck from side to side, attempting to alleviate the stiffness.

  “It would be faster if you didn’t insist on stopping at every market along the way, my lady.”

  “I’ve never been anywhere before, and I may never get the chance to travel after I’m married. I just want to see as much as I can while I have the opportunity.” She gazed out of her window to see a sprawling meadow a short distance away. “Signal the driver to stop.”

  Danna tugged on a rope which rang a small bell next to the carriage driver. In less than a minute, the carriage came to a halt. Lisalla did not wait for the door to be opened. Instead, she opened it herself and stepped out into the sunlight.

  “I’d like to take a walk in that meadow,” she said as her guards came to her side.

  Danna followed as Lisalla approached the meadow. Swaying golden stalks reached past their knees, forcing them to hold their skirts as they walked. The ground was soggy from recently melted snow, but Lisalla paid it no heed. Dirty shoes were a small price to pay for an adventure, and the frosty winter air would not dampen her spirit.

  “My lady,” Danna called, falling behind. “Can we return to the carriage yet?”

  “We’ve only just left the carriage,” the princess replied. Ahead of her, a herd of spotted deer ran by. They were the most majestic creatures she could remember seeing. She turned to look at her maid, who was desperately trying to keep her balance upon the soggy earth. Sighing, she walked slowly back to Danna and took her by the arm. To Danna’s relief, they returned to the carriage and climbed back inside.

  “I hope I never spend so much time in a carriage again,” Lisalla said.

  “You might have to visit far-off places once you’re queen.” Danna smiled cheerfully, imagining her friend as Queen of Na’zora.

  “As long as I don’t have to travel by carriage. Maybe I could travel by ship.”

  “An adventure by sea,” Danna said, a dreamy look in her eyes. “Let’s imagine we’re sailing off into the unknown. That will help pass the time.”

  “Am I taking my prince with me?” Lisalla asked, laughing.

  “I suppose that’s up to you, my lady.”

  “Alright,” she replied. “I have just boarded a ship and am sailing to a distant land. The boat hits a reef, and we’re all dashed overboard. I make my way to an island filled with primitive natives.”

  “Oh my,” Danna said. “Please tell me I wasn’t on the ship.”

  “You can stay home if you like, but I’m going to see this island. The natives are tiny little people who have never seen a woman as tall as me. They think I’m a goddess.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad at all,” Danna commented. “Maybe I’ll come along after all.”

  “The weather is always warm, and the natives are all very friendly. They only eat the finest fresh fruits, and they never require me to sit in a carriage.”

  Danna giggled. “Do they force you to marry their king?”

  “They don’t have a king,” Lisalla replied. “They govern themselves, and everyone is treated fairly.”

  “That’s very different from what I hear of Na’zora, my lady.” The carefree tone had left Danna’s voice. She was truly concerned about the kingdom where they would spend the rest of their lives.

  “That’s only because Domren is their king. If I have any say in the matter, Aelryk will make a good king. I won’t stand by silently if he treats his subjects as poorly as his father treats them.”

  “They are at war with the elves, you know.” Danna almost whispered the words, as if some unseen elf might overhear them.

  “I’ve heard as much,” Lisalla replied. “I don’t understand it. Their king wants to expand his borders, so why not do it where there are no elves? Why do men have to go around killing each other?”

  “I don’t know, my lady,” Danna said. “Perhaps it’s just in their nature.”

  “It shouldn’t be, and I refuse to believe it’s in every man’s nature. A man should protect his family. That doesn’t include raiding other villages and killing innocent people.”

  “You think the elves are innocent?”

  “I don’t know,” she said with a sigh. “What I do know is that Domren is a tyrant, and he has no mercy for anyone. He expects your full cooperation, or he orders your execution. I will not allow my husband to rule in such a manner.”

  “A princess is expected to please her husband and produce an heir. He may not want your advice on politics.”

  “He will have it just the same.” Lisalla tired of the conversation and went back to staring out of her window. She did not know Prince Aelryk, but she knew in her heart he would be different from his father. Her childish dreams set aside, she tried to picture what her future husband might look like. She envisioned a handsome man with dark hair and kind eyes. If she found him to be unkind in real life, she was determined not to go through with the marriage. She would run far away, even if it meant giving up everything she owned. She would not marry a man like King Domren.

  Chapter 26

  Prince Aelryk slowly made his way to his father’s council chambers. All of the king’s lieutenants were meeting to discuss the details of their next attack on the Wild Elves. Aelryk’s stomach felt like he had just swallowed a large stone. He had no desire to join any more battles, and he knew that was exactly what his father would have in mind.

  As he entered the room, the conversation came to an abrupt halt. “How nice of you to finally join us,” the king said.

  “Your Majesty,” the prince replied, bowing. He took a seat at the far end of the table, as far from his father as possible.

  “As soon as we have finished conversing, you will be heading south near Al’marr. There is a large elven clan there which has avoided any contact with our troops. I want them eradicated.”

  “If they haven’t attacked us, why are we attacking them?”

  “We will attack them to prevent them from joining forces with the other elves. We can’t allow them to gather an army of considerable size.”

  “How do we know these elves are even considering such a thing?” Aelryk could see the blood rising into his father’s face. Questioning him like this in front of his councilors was unwise, but he had no other choice. His father had refused to meet with him privately.

  “You are the prince of this kingdom. Therefore, it is your duty to protect its citizens. You will leave now and attack those elves, or I will throw you in the dungeons for treason.” The king spoke forcefully, but managed to contain his anger. He locked eyes with his son, his face serious.

  “Orzi, the court prophet, has already predicted your victory,” General Luca said. “As long as you leave today, you will be successful.”

  “How comforting,” the prince replied sarcastically. “Father, I do not fear failing in battle. I simply don’t understand attacking these elves. Surely you don’t mean to extend our borders all the way to Al’marr.”

  “I most certainly do!” the king shouted, unable to restrain his temper. He pounded a fist against the wooden table. “Do as I command!”

  The prince stood and bowed. Without another word, he left the room and headed for the stables. He had no choice but to carry out his father’s orders. There was little doubt that his father would indeed have him thrown in the dungeons should he refuse to obey. If that were to happen, he would have no chance at negotiating peace.

  Mi’tal was waiting for the prince just outside of the stables. “Your Highness,” he said as the prince approached. “I was given word a few hours ago to prepare your troops for battle. All the preparations have been made, and we await your orders.”

  “How is it you knew
of this before me?” the prince asked, obviously annoyed.

  “I was told the order came from you,” Mi’tal replied, looking somewhat surprised. “A messenger from the palace visited me this morning saying you had commanded it.”

  “That must have been from my father, then.” Aelryk shook his head, attempting to shake away the anger. He did not succeed. “He wants us to attack another clan of elves. This group is near Al’marr and has never been involved in an attack against Na’zorans.”

  “What do you intend to do, my lord?” Mi’tal would follow any order his prince gave, but he hoped the prince would choose an attempt at negotiation. The prince was young and had so far been brave enough to speak with his father on the subject. Mi’tal hoped that one day the prince would find the courage to disobey the king and bring peace to the land.

  “We don’t have much choice,” the prince replied. “If we don’t attack them, my father will probably have us both hanged for treason.”

  “Would it be possible to attempt to speak with these elves first?” Mi’tal suggested.

  “Once we enter their territory we can expect them to throw the first punch. They’re not going to allow an army to simply walk into their village. Though they have not yet become a part of it, they must be aware there is a war on their doorstep.”

  “What of Al’marr, my lord? Might they see this attack as a threat to them as well?”

  “The people of Al’marr only care for their spices and gemstones. We won’t be crossing their borders or harming their citizens, so I doubt they will take much notice. They don’t defend the elves near their lands.”

  “Very well, my lord,” Mi’tal said. “Shall we prepare to leave?”

  “Yes,” the prince replied. “When we are closer, you will order the men to split their forces. Half of them will remain behind along with the mages. I don’t want any more carnage than is necessary.”

  “My lord, if we ride into their village with only a handful of troops, we are putting ourselves in very serious danger.”

  “Don’t you think I realize that? These elves have so far avoided the war. My guess is they don’t want any part of it. They will only fight back if they are forced. We will show our strength and order them to flee. If they refuse, we will signal the rest of our army to attack.”

  “As you command, my lord.” Mi’tal could not decide whether he liked this new plan or not. It would certainly save many innocent lives, but he would much rather make an attempt at peace. He pitied Aelryk that he should have such a father. It was proving a difficult task for the prince to serve the king and appease his own conscience at the same time.

  Mi’tal followed only the prince. If Aelryk commanded him to disobey the king, he would do it without a second thought. Such an act would cost him his life, but he would die knowing that he had served his lord. The prince’s lord was King Domren, and Mi’tal understood why Aelryk would not fully defy him.

  For the first time in his life, Mi’tal found himself wishing death on his own king. The prince was maturing, and he would soon be ready to lead his people. A better world was waiting for Na’zora, if only Domren were gone.

  Chapter 27

  Ten days of practice had given Yori the confidence to etch runes without his grandfather hovering over his shoulder. Every evening, he would study the scrolls, committing the runes to his memory. He had learned nearly a hundred words in the ancient elven tongue and how to properly etch them into a piece of metal. Some were used for strength or to affect the weight of weapons and armor, while others were used to add power such as fire or lightning to the blow of a sword. Never in his life had he imagined such a thing to be possible, yet here he was performing the magic himself.

  All of the Sycamore Clan’s warriors now had runed weapons thanks to Yori’s newfound skill. Previously, his grandfather had only bothered to rune special weapons for the Overseer and the clan’s most skilled warriors. War had not visited their people for a long time, but rune carvers continued to pass along their knowledge throughout the generations.

  Darin had not forgotten his promise to Reylana. Yori had etched over a hundred arrow tips which would be used in the war against the Na’zorans. Though he was not a woodworker, he had managed to etch strengthening runes into new bows that would now last indefinitely. Every night Yori went to bed with cramps in his fingers and neck from the tedious work, but he enjoyed every moment. Finally, he had found a purpose in life, and it felt wonderful to be needed and welcome among his own people.

  * * * * *

  “This has healed nicely,” the old woman said. “You should be swinging that sword again in no time.”

  Reylana flexed the muscles of her left arm which had spent too much time motionless in a sling. They still felt tight, but she was sure they would be back to normal by the time she returned to her brother. “Thank you,” she said, stretching her shoulder. She stepped out of the healer’s hut and into the bitterly cold wind. She pulled her sword from its sheath and inspected the blade. It looked a bit dull both in color and sharpness. Since she had been unable to fight, she had not tended to the sword’s needs. To her, this was almost like ignoring a crying child. She set off toward the smithy to remedy the situation.

  Yori could not help but notice the lovely auburn-haired elf coming his way. She was curvy despite the tight leather armor that bound her slender form. She headed straight for Darin, carrying her sword across both hands.

  “Good day, Darin,” she said. “My blade is in need of some care, I think.” She offered the sword to the old elf, who accepted it with a smile.

  “I’ll soon have it fixed up for you, young lady,” he said. “My grandson has been busy with those arrow tips for you. Some will explode on contact, and some will survive to be used over and over again. Would you like us to add runes to your sword?”

  “Of course,” she replied. “What can you do with it?”

  “We can affect the weight, prevent it from becoming dull, strengthen its blow, and many other things.”

  “Don’t do anything with the weight. I’m used to it being heavy, and that’s how I like it. If you can prevent it from dulling and make it stronger, I would be in your debt.” She looked over at Yori, who she had never noticed before. “Are you new around here?” she asked.

  “Sort of,” he replied. “I’ve been here a couple of weeks, but I’ve rarely left the forge.” Yori regretted not spending any time amongst the clansmen. In front of him was someone he wouldn’t mind knowing better.

  “You’re tall,” she replied, looking him up and down. “You must be the tallest male elf I’ve ever met. Would you like to mate?”

  Yori’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and the chisel in his hand dropped to the workbench with a loud clang. He glanced over at his grandfather, who was grinning from ear to ear. He flicked his head in the direction of his hut, indicating to Yori to show the girl inside. Reylana stood patiently, awaiting Yori’s response. Apparently, her request had been serious.

  Without a word, Yori walked to the other side of his workbench and took Reylana’s hand. She smiled and followed him to the hut. Once inside, she tugged violently at his pants until they fell to his ankles. She shoved him roughly onto the bed and proceeded to remove only her shoes and pants before climbing on top of him. Taking full control of the encounter, she rode him until her appetite was satiated. Yori felt a sudden surge of pleasure so intense that he clenched his jaw to stop himself from crying out. He had no intention of looking like a fool in front of this woman.

  Reylana climbed off of him and retrieved her clothing from the floor. Yori sat up on the bed and stared at her, amazed by the entire event. She leaned over and kissed him on the side of his head.

  “After the war is over, we should mate again. I’d love to have a tall son.” As she reached for the door, she stopped abruptly and turned to face him. “I’ll be back for the sword tomorrow.” With those words she exited the hut, leaving Yori behind.

  Yori dressed and returned to the forge,
a look of bewilderment still apparent on his face. His grandfather laughed at the sight of him and clapped him on the back. “Looks like you’re truly a man now,” he said proudly. “You’re just a piece of meat to the women around here. Romance is a rare thing among our people.”

  Lem stared at Yori, envying his cousin once again. Yori glanced at him, but looked away without saying a word. His first time with a woman had not gone quite how he had imagined it, but he had no complaints. Retrieving his chisel, he tried to go back to his work. After a few seconds, he looked up and asked, “What was her name?”

  “Reylana,” Darin replied. The old man laughed and added, “Don’t expect her to be true to you. That just isn’t our way.”

  Yori nodded and returned to his work.

  Chapter 28

  Three white carriages made their way along the road ahead of Reylin’s troops. Their scouts had noticed the carriages earlier that morning as they surveyed the path north to the Mountain Clan’s village. The carriages were nearing the border, and Reylin’s archers readied their bows to prevent their entry into Na’zora. Whoever was inside must be very important, and their deaths would send a loud message to King Domren.

  The sword maidens crouched low behind the archers, readying themselves for the charge. The carriages were accompanied by a small unit of guards, but the elves had them vastly outnumbered. Still, the possibility of magefire existed, and they refused to take any chances with elven lives. They would play it safe and have everyone ready to join the fight if necessary.

  As the carriages rounded a bend in the road, they finally came within range of the archers. In perfect unison, the elves lifted their bows, releasing their arrows into the chilled winter air. The drivers were struck, blood pouring from their necks. The lead driver had just enough time to halt his carriage before he toppled from his high seat and crashed to the road beneath him. The guards drew their swords and advanced on the woods. Hoping to save as many arrows as possible, the archers moved aside for the sword maidens.