by Livia Lance
“Why do you ask that? Surely you know,” he responded, shooting her a quizzical look.
“No,” she said, pausing to look at him. “I truly don’t. You were really that concerned about a tree being hurt?”
Clay considered for a moment that perhaps she didn’t know. Lana was only partly elf, commonly called half elf but that only meant she had some elven blood not necessarily that she was actually the product of an elf and a human. She may have been born without the nature sense.
He stopped walking and drew close to a young fir tree nearby, gesturing for her to come closer. She shot him a distrustful look but complied and waited in silence. Clay placed his hand on the trunk and said, “Every part of nature has a voice. It has a spirit. It can feel things and if you listen closely enough, it will speak to you. Not in words, exactly. It’s more like emotions. Plants usually don’t live long enough to find their voice but trees do. They’re the easiest to talk to.”
“The wind and water are in constant movement and they’re very hard to communicate with, there and gone,” he continued. “Stone, rock and earth are so old, they usually forget they have a voice and are always slumbering.” He saw her eyes widen slightly at that. Clay wondered if the stones in the castle had spoken to her, as well. Considering how uncommon it was for rocks to speak, he was shocked that they would bother to communicate with a halfling. Perhaps there was something special about this woman.
“Place your hand on the trunk here, it’s easier to hear it that way.” He moved away, giving her room to approach the small fir. Lana looked at him warily as if she was expecting some sort of trap but hesitantly placed her palm on the tree.
“Close your eyes,” Clay said softly. “Empty your mind. Think about the tree, its height, its roots stretching down into the earth beneath your feet, its branches spreading out above you. Open yourself up to it.” He waited, watching her intently. Lana was lovely but she was not for him. Once he presented her to the elders, this job would be done and he would likely never see her again. He couldn’t get attached.
* * *
Lana was having a difficult time keeping her mind clear. Clay’s presence was distracting. She wasn’t sure if he was just playing some sort of joke on her or not. It seemed preposterous that something like a tree could have a voice but her mind flashed back on that last night in the castle. It had seemed like the air was full of a sense of urgency, as if the walls themselves were warning her of her impending doom. Had they been?
She tried again to clear her mind and focus. Thinking about the tree, the feel of the bark under her palm, the whisper of the wind moving through the branches. She felt like she was floating and then suddenly it happened. She sensed it. Curiosity? Inquisitiveness?
Lana gasped and pulled her hand back quickly, backing up a step and clutching her hand to her breast. She stared at the tree and then accusingly at Clay. What kind of magic was this? Did he do this to her, somehow?
“Did you feel it?” he asked her, reaching out to fondly stroke the trunk of the tree. “It’s still young so everything is new to it. It has a mind like a child.”
“Is it magic?” she demanded, still feeling out of sorts.
He chuckled. “Not magic, it’s just something elves can do. We were born of nature and so we are close to nature.”
“But I’m not an elf,” she told him. Surely he knew this. She was a human.
“Are you sure?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Humans are deaf to the words of nature. There may have been a time when they could hear it, but they’ve spent thousands of years cutting down trees, chiseling rock, diverting rivers, bending nature to their will rather than living in harmony. The earth itself has turned its back on them. No, only elves can hear the trees because the earth still loves us. You may not not have pure elf blood but you certainly don’t have pure human blood either. I can sense it, any elf could. Tell me, how do you like meat?”
Lana narrowed her eyes at him. How could he know about that? She chose not to answer.
“Elves cannot tolerate meat. Our systems don’t digest it properly,” he said. “See? You’re an elf.”
“My mother was a human, my father was a human, I’m a human,” she responded, lifting her chin and staring him down. There was no disputing this fact. If her mother or father had been elves or even had any elf blood, the entire kingdom would have known. The elves and humans had always been at odds, everyone knew this.
“I’m sure your mother was human. As for your father…” he trailed off, looking in the direction they’d come from, toward the castle. “Well, I’m sure the king is also human. We’ll leave it at that.”
Struck by what he was insinuating, Lana stiffened, offended to her toes. “How dare you suggest such a thing about my mother,” she said in a quiet voice. “You will never speak this way again. I forbid it.”
Clay narrowed his eyes, then gave her a mocking bow. “As you wish, princess,” he said coldly, back to using her title rather than her name. “Shall we?” With that, he began marching through the forest without a backward glance.
For a moment, Lana considered turning and fleeing from him. She wondered if he would try to catch her or if she even cared. Her mind was so twisted up with all he had told her, she couldn’t make sense of anything. Finally, knowing she really had no choice, she trailed after him but kept herself at a distance. She didn’t want to be near him right now. She needed time to think.
* * *
Clay could tell when they were getting close to civilization again. The trees were thinning out and the sounds of wild animals quietened. When he judged that they were maybe half a mile away, he stopped and waited for the princess to catch up. He couldn’t think of her as Lana right then, not so soon after she had used her royal tone with him.
There was no good reason for her to get so angry at him for being truthful. People deserved to know the truth, right? It’s not like a human taking an elven lover is a bad thing. Elves were clearly a superior race.
He knew he was being unfair but he didn’t really care. The girl was so temperamental, it was difficult to control his urge to tweak her nose whenever he could. He enjoyed watching her eyes flare in anger and the color come to her creamy, pale cheeks. But perhaps he had crossed a line with that comment about her mother. Humans were very proud, after all. He had to remember that.
Deciding to play nice for a while, he made sure that his tone was soft when he spoke to her.
“Lana,” he said, using her name rather than her title, hoping to keep this conversation friendly. “We’re almost at the town. I’m not sure how to say this politely, but I’m going to need you to strip.”
She drew herself up to her full height and glared at him, saying nothing.
“We’ll need funds if we’re going to travel as swiftly as possible and I’ll need to sell your clothing. Don’t worry, I won’t look, I promise,” he said, rather enjoying the idea of maybe catching a peek if he could get away with it. He dug through his pack finding his cleanest shirt and trousers. “Here, put these on. It’s better than sitting around naked while I go into town and get you some proper clothes.”
He held the bundle of clothing out to her and waited. He knew if he was patient and didn’t let her royal attitude set off his temper, she would warm to him again. Eventually, she stomped over and snatched the clothing out of his hands and pointed silently toward the trees. She wanted him to go far enough into the forest that he couldn’t sneak a peek at her. Chuckling, he turned on his heel and walked until he could no longer see her but he already had a plan.
Her hearing wasn’t as sharp as his and maybe he could climb up a tree and get high enough to spot her again. It was his job to watch over her, he reasoned, and he should take that duty seriously. He found a likely tree and began to scale it. If he could get high enough, he should be able to see her.
After he’d climbed up a few branches, his grip suddenly slipped. It felt like the branch itself had turned in his hands. He didn’t fall s
traight down, but every branch on the way smacked him in the rear, slowing his fall and tanning his hide at the same time. He could feel the tree’s amusement mixed with a healthy dose of disapproval.
He’d just been spanked by a tree.
Clay rubbed at his bottom and chuckled a little to himself. Well, he would just have to behave himself, he decided, looking at the oak.
“Fine, then. But it’s your fault if something happens to her,” he told it, then leaned back against the tree and waited.
Hearing Lana long before he could see her, he turned to face the direction of her footsteps. When she appeared, the sight of her in his clothing made his mouth go dry. The dress did a lot to hide her figure, all prim and proper, but a man’s clothing did exactly the opposite. She wasn’t a curvy girl by any means but she was still curvier than him so the pants stretched across her hips in a tantalizing way and she had cinched a cord around the shirt, accentuating her tiny waist.
She presented the folded bundle of clothing to him with her slippers on top. He took them gently from her hands, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he gave her a slight bow and she nodded silently in return.
Clay had to clear his throat before he could speak. “You can wait here and I’ll be back soon.” He shot a wry glance at the big oak tree. “This one right here likes you quite well so you might want to stay near it. It’s very… protective.”
Lana looked at the tree in surprise and then back at him, her eyes narrowing. Not wanting to set off her temper, he bowed again and began to walk toward the village.
Briar Glen
Briar Glen was not a huge city, just a small village. Most of the families relied on lumber from the neighboring forest for income and, aside from a two story home here and there, the buildings were very small and nondescript. As an elf, he had a certain distaste for humans who used the land for profit, but he had to get Lana to the elven kingdom so he would just have to tolerate them as best he could.
The village was surrounded by only a short, wooden wall. It would never hold up to any concentrated attack but this town was so far from any strategically advantageous spot, no army would try to take it. Clay walked through the gate, unmanned by any guards, and looked around.
It was still early and the town wasn’t quite bustling yet. The working men were likely at home, finishing their breakfast. Most of the shops were directly in front of him in the square, including a seamstress, but Clay wasn’t going to start there. It wasn’t often such finery came through a town like this and that was precisely the reason why he didn’t want to deal with them. They were local and would remember an exceptionally tall man with an exceptionally fine dress to sell.
He doubted they would know an elf if they saw one, most regular people couldn’t tell an elf from a human. While elves were almost always very tall with tilted eyes and thin frames, humans came in a variety of shapes and sizes and an elf could easily pass for human if they wanted to. But even if they didn’t know him for what he was on sight, someone asking about him may recognize an elf from a description so he had to be as nondescript as he could manage.
Strolling around the square, he found what he was looking for. A wagon stood near the inn, two strong looking horses hitched to the front. An old man was climbing up onto the bench and picking up the reins. It looked like he was departing after having spent the night. He saw the words ‘Pava’s Wares’ painted on the side of the wagon and knew he had arrived just in time. A peddler was always on the move and not as likely to remember where each of his items came from or details about the person who had traded with him.
Approaching the wagon, Clay hailed the man before he could urge the horses into motion. He stopped what he was doing and turned to regard Clay. Realizing he had a potential customer, the peddler jumped down spryly from the bench, removed his hat and flourished a bow.
“Pava’s Wares at your service, sir. M’name’s Pava and if you need it, I got it,” he said, reciting what sounded like an often used sales pitch. Straightening, he put his worn, dusty hat back on his head and peered up at Clay. Pava was probably a foot shorter than him and nearly ancient by human standards. His long hair was tied back at the nape of his neck and white as snow. “How can I help you, sir?” he asked Clay expectantly.
“I have some goods to trade if you have what I’m looking for,” Clay responded, preparing himself for the barter. This man would surely try to part with as little as possible for the fine dress and Clay knew he had quite a bit of work ahead of him. The plan was to exchange the dress for less conspicuous items which he would then trade with the local shops for what he actually needed. He would have to take a loss but if he was careful he could get everything required to continue his trip back to Eva, the elven lands.
Rubbing his hands together in anticipation, Pava turned to the wagon and threw the tarp back, revealing his wares as if he were showing off the most precious of treasures. The wagon contained a number of items like bits of metalwork, jewelry, clothing, small daggers, nails, pins and so on. Clay peered at the goods while Pava showed him a well crafted metal hinge. He ran his hand across bolts of fabric, mostly cheap weaves of wool but there was also some fine silk in the pile. Pava snatched up a wicked looking curved dagger and let Clay test its balance as he chattered about the blade’s history, what famous people had owned it and how fine it would look strapped to his belt. There were gaps in the metalwork near the hilt, likely where jewels had been pried free.
Clay pulled the dress and slippers from his pack and offered them to Pava for inspection. “What can I get for this?” he asked.
Pava frowned a little and peered curiously at Clay, obviously wondering how he had come upon such a fine dress. Offering no explanation, Clay simply waited. If he tried to give this man a story as to how he came across the dress, Pava would remember the tale and thus would remember Clay. He wanted this deal done quickly so the peddler could be on his way. The less time spent with the man, the better.
Seeming to understand that this exchange was going to be a little seedier than normal, Pava quickly inspected Clay’s goods and tucked them away in the wagon, out of sight. He pulled out a dagger, some fine looking horseshoes, a heavy silver chain and a few spools of silk thread.
“Fair?” he asked Clay, obviously ready to be done with him and on his way. Clay inspected the goods and realized it was the best he was going to be able to do.
“Fair,” he responded, shaking the man’s hand and taking his items. He turned away as Pava scrambled back up to the bench and got the horses in motion. Clay stored the goods in his pack and started strolling around the dusty square. It was early still, but the shops had begun to open.
His first stop was the blacksmith. He traded in the horseshoes, silver chain and dagger for thirty silver coins and left quickly. He thought he might have gotten a good deal there and didn’t want the blacksmith to rethink his offer. Next, he went to the seamstress and showed her the silk thread. She was a tougher sell but was able to supply him with traveling clothes for a woman about Lana’s size. She offered to do some adjustments for a modest fee but he begged off, claiming that his lady was a fine seamstress herself and would be able to adjust the fit if it wasn’t correct. Seeing that she wasn’t going to get any coin out of him, the woman promptly turned her attention to a pair of chattering ladies who were examining her stock of ribbon.
Clay didn’t know if Lana could sew at all but hoped that the clothing was too big rather than too small. On the other hand, if it was too small in the right places…
He pushed that thought out of his head and went to the next shop on his list. The general goods store had plenty of vegetables and grain and the quality was better than he had expected. He was able to purchase enough food to last a week or more if they were careful. He also bought some bedrolls, tightly woven cloaks that would hold up well in the rain, an extra pack and sturdy shoes for Lana. He inquired after where he could find a good deal on a solid horse and the merchant told him to check with the innkeeper,
so that was his last destination.
Clay left the general store and made his way down the dry, dusty walkway. Knowing this was going to be his last stop lifted his mood, and as he arrived at the inn and pushed open the big double doors, he’d even begun to whistle. It was an old elven tune from his childhood and he wasn’t sure where he’d learned it. Maybe his mother had sung it to him, or maybe someone else. However he came to know it, the tune soon died on his lips when he saw what was inside the inn.
There was an elven woman at a table near the corner of the room eating a breakfast of berries and oatmeal. He didn’t have a fear of his own kind but two elves together were a lot more conspicuous than one, and he wasn’t allowed to speak of his mission. The elders had been very clear about that. No one could know.
He contemplated turning around and leaving before she noticed him, but he couldn’t leave without procuring a horse. The lands between Loral and Eva were unforgiving at best, and a horse would make the trek a lot easier. It was too late anyway. The woman had looked up, likely sensing the presence of one of her own kind and her eyes locked with his. Jaw length black hair framed a pretty face and her eyes were so light blue they almost looked white.
Smiling, she silently gestured to an empty chair at her table and Clay had no choice but to join her.
“What brings an elf here, so far from Eva?” she asked him politely. “I’m called Nym.” She offered him her hand.
“Clay,” he responded, clasping her cool hand in his. “I had business in this area and now I’m heading home. Yourself?” He had no intention of telling more than that, of course. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, probably wondering what kind of business any elf would have so close to the enemy, but she seemed to decide against pressing any further.
“Traveling,” she said cryptically, looking away from his eyes. He could see that she had secrets of her own. Well, she was welcome to keep them and he would keep his. “I, too, am heading home. I come from the lands to the west but thought to stay here for the night. It’s so close to the forest and I miss the trees of Eva.”
