War Of The Wildlands

by Lana Axe

  “How do I know we won’t be attacked as we leave?”

  “My father has sent me to kill you. He will not send more troops until well after I’ve returned. You have plenty of time to move your people, and I will tell him that I found a deserted village where you once lived. That should satisfy his desire to clear the Wildlands of the elven presence.”

  “You would lie to your own father on our behalf? What sort of man does that make you?”

  “I am the sort of man who would do what is right. I have no desire to continue this war. Na’zora has several new farming villages outside of her original borders. We do not need your land. You have my word on that. When I am king, there will be peace.”

  The elves remained silent, looking to their Overseer to decide their fate. Yori and Darin still stood near the forge, exchanging glances as the prince spoke. They could not believe the prince was defying his own father to spare the elves.

  After a moment’s consideration, the Overseer replied, “We will leave this land to preserve the lives of my people. I will expect you to keep your word once you are king.”

  Aelryk signaled his troops to move out. He had no intention of watching the elves to be sure they left the area. His job was complete, and he had avoided any killing.

  Mi’tal considered once more the idea of Aelryk as king. If the prince did not believe Na’zora needed any more land, then there was no reason to continue the war. So far, only the Silver Birch Clan had been displaced to build the farming villages, and they might settle for other compensation. The rest of the clans could rebuild their villages where they had once stood. As he thought of the lives needlessly lost, his hand tightened on the handle of his war hammer. A vision of King Domren’s funeral filled his mind.

  Chapter 31

  At the base of the Wrathful Mountains lay the village of the Mountain Clan. As he scouted far ahead of the warriors, Reylin scanned the trees for any sign of elven life. Glimpsing a slight movement on a high branch, he called, “Hello, there. I am Reylin of the Oak Leaf Clan. My kinsmen and I are seeking the Mountain Clan.”

  The branch swayed again as a young, silver-haired elf climbed down. “Greetings, Reylin. I am Sal of the Mountain Clan. What brings you so far north?”

  “There is a war in our homeland,” Reylin replied. “Many clans of the Wildlands have been displaced. We come seeking allies.”

  Sal nodded, understanding Reylin’s plight. “I’ve heard nothing of the war, but we have little to do with any outsiders. News does not travel well here, I’m afraid. Come with me and speak to our Overseer.”

  “I’ve brought a large number of warriors with me. Should I tell them to wait here?”

  “No, they can come as well. We may not be able to feed everyone, but they are all welcome in our village.”

  Reylin and Sal moved quickly through the forest to locate the rest of the group. Essa stood at the front, watching as the elves approached.

  “This is Essa, leader of the sword maidens,” Reylin said.

  “Well met, Sister.”

  Sal openly admired Essa’s figure with his eyes. Essa, however, did not return the sentiment. Mountain Clan elves have paler skin than those of the woods, and if Sal represented the other males of the village, they must be even shorter than the males of her own clan. His clear blue eyes were rather fetching, but she had more important matters on her mind.

  “Greetings,” she replied flatly. She turned to Reylin and asked, “Are we continuing north?”

  “The Mountain Clan’s village is not far from here. We have all been invited.”

  “What of the humans?” Essa asked.

  “Humans?” Sal echoed.

  “We have two human hostages. They are bound and shouldn’t cause any trouble.” Reylin pointed to the two women.

  “I see,” Sal replied. “I can’t see any problem with them, but the Overseer has the final say. Let’s get going.” He led the group through the forest to a vast evergreen valley. The mountain breeze brought fresh, cool air to their lungs and renewed their spirits. This was a land untouched by war, where the streams ran with pure, clean water, and the earth was unspoiled.

  In the distance, the Wrathful Mountains stood proudly, ever reaching beyond the clouds. Lisalla paused briefly to admire the scene but was soon shoved by an impatient sword maiden. She resumed her march, all the while admiring the mountains and the beauty of the valley before her. She had spent her entire life only a few days away from this place, yet she had never had the pleasure of visiting it. Her heart filled with hope as she admired the magnificent landscape.

  As they entered the village, many of the Mountain Clan elves stopped what they were doing to stare at the horde. Never before had there been such a gathering of elves in their land. Sal led Reylin and Essa straight to the Overseer’s hut, where a surprisingly young Overseer waited inside.

  “Overseer,” Sal began. “These are the warriors of the Oak Leaf Clan. They have come seeking our aid in battle.”

  “Have they indeed?” he replied, standing. His pale eyes looked from Essa to Reylin as he spoke. “There has been no news of war near our borders, but we mainly keep to ourselves. If it hasn’t come directly to our village, we would have no knowledge of it.”

  “We have with us all of the warriors that remain of the Oak Leaf, Silver Birch, and Mulberry Clans. We have joined forces to fight the Kingdom of Na’zora. They have invaded our lands and slaughtered our people.”

  “Where is Na’zora?” the Overseer asked.

  “It lies south of Ra’jhou and stretches to the east coast.”

  “Why have they declared war on our people?” The Overseer seemed genuinely concerned. A war against any Woodland Elf clan was a war against his own.

  “Their king has decided to extend his borders. We were in the way.”

  “Have you come seeking refuge or allies?”

  “Perhaps both,” Reylin responded. “Some of our warriors are past their prime, and others have been injured. Not all of them will be able to continue fighting. It is my hope to join all of the elven clans together into a single force.”

  “That would seem to be the most effective way to fight,” the Overseer replied. I will call a meeting of my people to discuss the matter. We have not been involved in a war for many generations, but I feel certain my people will wish to join your cause.”

  “Thank you,” Reylin said. He turned to leave the hut, followed by Essa.

  “That was easier than I expected,” Essa remarked.

  “I’ve never met any member of the Mountain Clan before today, but I was always told that they were honorable elves. I think they just proved that rumor to be true.”

  The elves began to mingle with their mountain kin, and the mood became less somber. For a short time at least, they were welcomed into a thriving village that reminded them of the homes they had lost. Untouched by the hand of war, the elves flourished among the mountains.

  At the base of a small evergreen, Lisalla and Danna had been secured with ropes while the elves enjoyed the hospitality of their kin. No one saw the women as a threat, and they were left completely unguarded. Reylin approached the women as they sat motionless in the sunlight.

  “These bonds are too tight,” Lisalla said as he approached. “I would be more comfortable if you could loosen them just a bit.”

  “So you can kick my teeth in while I’m bent over?” Reylin laughed as he spoke and made no move to loosen the leather straps on her wrists.

  “You may bind my feet first if you like,” Lisalla suggested. “I only ask for a small comfort, not to be set free.”

  “You have resigned yourself to remain my prisoner then?”

  “Not in the slightest,” she replied. “Eventually you will either free me or kill me. I am of no use except as a bargaining chip in this war. Once I’ve served my purpose, you will be rid of me in one way or the other.”

  “You’re smarter than you look,” Reylin replied, kneeling next to her. He removed the leather strap
that bound her hands and tossed it to the ground. He remained in close proximity, which made Lisalla feel uneasy. She did not know his intentions, and she wished he would move farther away from her.

  His eyes moved over her form, drinking in the curves of her body. “You really should wear more clothes,” he said. “Your nipples are showing.”

  Without considering the consequences, she slapped him across the face.

  Reylin replied with laughter. “I’m only mentioning it because it seems unbecoming of a princess to expose her breasts.”

  “For your information, I was sleeping when you attacked me. These are my nightclothes, and you did not have the decency to allow me to change before you dragged me away.”

  “Maybe you should have asked while you were issuing orders to speak to our leader. I might have allowed it. Then again, I might like to have the both of you travel along naked.”

  Lisalla tried to stand, but her waist was still roped to the tree. Danna wept into her hands, fearing what might become of her mistress.

  “If you dare lay a hand on me, I will kill you.” Lisalla stared straight into Reylin’s eyes as she made the threat.

  “With what?” Reylin laughed again. “Don’t worry, dear lady. I have no intention of raping you or your bawling maid. No elf would dare touch a human woman. The very thought is repulsive.” He moved over to Danna and untied her hands as well. “We’re not as evil as you’ve heard. Any elf sick enough to rape a member of his clan would be castrated and impaled at the head of the village for all to see. We don’t tolerate savagery among our own.”

  Lisalla had not considered the idea of laws among the Wild Elves. In fact, she had never given them much thought at all until she was taken prisoner by them. So far, they seemed brutal and uncaring. “Your women are bigger than your men. I doubt they would be easy to subdue.”

  “They are taller, for sure,” Reylin explained. “But they aren’t stronger. Meaner, maybe.” He laughed and shook his head. “Anyway, such a crime has not been committed in my lifetime. I’ve only heard stories from ages past.”

  Lisalla remained silent, wondering why Reylin did not join the rest of his clan in eating and drinking. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves while Reylin kept watch over two women who had no hope of escape. Even if they managed to free themselves from the rope, they would soon perish in the Wildlands. Neither of them knew anything about the woods, and both of them were underdressed for the winter conditions.

  “I could use something warm to wear, as could my maid,” Lisalla said.

  “I’m sure you could,” Reylin replied. “What would you have me bring you?”

  “A blanket? A coat? Surely there are some spare pieces of clothing around this village.”

  “Maybe, but do you really want to dress as an elf? It might get you killed in the next attack.”

  “I don’t fear death,” Lisalla declared. “I would rather die warm and standing on my own two feet rather than cowering against the frozen earth.”

  “Well spoken, my lady,” Reylin said with a grin. “I’ll find you something.” After a few moments, he returned with two fur blankets along with two long-sleeved leather shirts and two pairs of pants. “Enough for both of you,” he said, tossing them the garments. With a quick stroke of his knife, he released them from the rope that held them to the tree.

  “Thank you,” Lisalla said. “Now turn away so we can change.”

  “So you can run?”

  “So we can change,” she repeated. “We’ve nowhere to run. I doubt I could make it far before an arrow found its way into my flesh.”

  “No kidding,” Reylin said, removing his bow from his back. “I’ll compromise and turn my head to the side.”

  Lisalla sighed, but did not argue. She handed Danna a shirt and pants and pulled her new clothes on, letting her dress drop to the ground. Instantly, she felt much warmer.

  “I am grateful to you, Reylin,” she said. “You have shown yourself to be a decent man.”

  “High praise indeed,” he said mockingly. “You can join me in getting something to eat.”

  The women followed him to the fire pit at the center of the village. The mountain elves eyed the women curiously but said nothing. They were quick to accept anyone their kinsmen accepted.

  “Tell me, Reylin,” Lisalla began as she ate. “Why are you fighting this war?”

  “Because King Domren is murdering my people for their land. He wants to own everything west of Na’zora. Maybe once we’re all dead he will invade Ra’jhou.”

  “He could try,” she replied, “but if I’m married to his son, I doubt he would make such a move. I have never heard anything good about King Domren. I hear he oppresses his own people, and justice is a thing of the past.”

  “I don’t care how he treats his own,” Reylin stated. “They have the power to be rid of him. Maybe one of them will do us all a favor and kill him.”

  “It’s possible but unlikely,” she pointed out. “People usually love their king, even if he doesn’t deserve it.”

  “He murdered my parents,” Reylin said. “They were part of a small group of elves asked to negotiate a land treaty with Na’zora. He offered to draw up a map and settle the borders permanently. Instead, he slaughtered the elves to show his strength and started a war with the Silver Birch Clan. They had been the most receptive to the humans and were the first to be scattered by their hands.”

  “That’s terrible,” Lisalla commented. “It is a despicable thing to disrespect a banner of truce. If he called them in to negotiate and then killed them, he is the most wicked sort of man imaginable.”

  “That’s exactly what he is, and if I get the chance, I will kill him myself.”

  Chapter 32

  Reylana descended the trees in a fury. In a flash, she stood before the Overseer. “You’re just going to let them push you across the river? What happens when they keep pushing until you land in the sea?”

  “They will not be able to cross the river,” the Overseer said smugly. “The God of the River will protect us from harm.”

  “He doesn’t even exist!” She shouted. “If you think some make-believe, magical god is going to protect you, then you’re an even bigger fool than I thought.”

  “How dare you insult-” the Overseer began, but he was quickly cut off by Reylana.

  “Shut up!” she shouted. “I have no time for cowards.” She turned to the gathered elves and asked, “Who will fight with me?”

  Scores of hands went up followed by cheers from the warriors willing to fight. Yori looked down at his feet and remained silent.

  “What about you?” Reylana asked as she approached him.

  “I have no desire to go to war,” he replied.

  “We need you. Our weapons are insufficient, and you can sway the odds in our favor.”

  “Prince Aelryk seems like an honorable man to me,” Yori replied. “He spared all of our lives and promises a future of peace. I don’t want to be responsible for countless deaths.”

  “So you’re a coward too,” Reylana declared, turning away from him. “I’m leaving to rejoin my brother’s army. Anyone who wants to come is welcome. Bring your weapons.”

  Nearly four hundred warriors prepared to set out for war. They gathered their weapons, including the arrow tips that Yori had made. All of them carried at least one runed weapon. Though he feared his kinsmen would still be outnumbered once the clans were united, Yori felt that he had already done enough to help their cause. He did not think it was right that Na’zora’s king was forcing the elves from their homes, but he did not agree with the elves slaughtering humans in retaliation. Somehow, there had to be a chance for peace. If only the prince turned out to be a man of his word, the war might come to an end.

  The elves who remained in the village began packing their winter provisions for the journey across the river. Yori and Lem began packing up the tools from the forge. The forge itself would have to be rebuilt once they reached their destination.


  “Why didn’t you go with them?” Lem asked. “You should have gone.”

  “That was the same prince who freed me from prison when his father was going to have me killed. You could have gone if you’re so in favor of the war.”

  “I’m no use with a bow, and I can’t etch the runes. I would have just been in the way.”

  “Then don’t judge me,” Yori replied.

  * * * * *

  Three days later the Sycamore Clan was ready to cross the river. Several rafts had been constructed from fallen timber, and the shaman had been fasting in preparation for his ceremony to praise the River God. The clan could not hope to cross the Blue River in safety without the god’s blessing.

  Yori watched spellbound as the shaman approached the riverbank at dawn. Dressed all in blue feathers, which had been specially dyed for the occasion, he danced proudly along the bank. His ankles and wrists were adorned with shell bracelets that rattled as he moved. As he danced, he chanted words that Yori did not understand, but he could certainly feel their power. It was clear to him that earth or water magic was involved, but he did not fully understand it. Instead, he listened closely to the chanting and admired the graceful, bird-like movements of the shaman.

  As soon as the shaman finished the dance, he approached the Overseer and declared, “The River God will allow us to cross in safety.”

  Darin took note of Yori’s interest in the ceremony. “We used to have lots of ceremonies like that when I was young. We praised all the forest gods in those days.”

  “Why did you stop?” Yori asked.

  “Different generations have different priorities it seems.”

  “It’s a shame to lose something so magical,” Yori remarked.

  “Yes, but the world is changing,” his grandfather replied. “We aren’t as connected to the earth as we once were. Perhaps in time we will be again.”

  They boarded a raft to cross the Blue River. Yori looked down into its depths as they floated gently across the current. As they neared the halfway point, the blue of the river’s depths became more intense. Staring deeply into the water, Yori caught a glimpse of a face. For a split second, its features appeared silver amid the blue depths. An expression of pure serenity spread across the face before it disappeared back into the blue. Yori remained silent and did not mention what he had seen. Perhaps the River God had truly smiled on their crossing.