War Of The Wildlands Page 4

  Chapter 8

  Yori packed a few meager possessions into a heavily patched knapsack. Among them was a second shirt that was in much better condition than his usual one. His uncle had insisted he wear something that wouldn’t offend his wealthy customer. He also packed a few provisions that his aunt had prepared for his trip. Lacking the funds to stay at an inn, he would have to carry a bedroll and find someplace along the way for sleeping.

  Meladee watched with sad eyes as he slung the bag over his shoulder. He knelt down and took the little girl’s hand. “I won’t be away very long,” he said.

  “Promise?” she replied, the tears spilling over from her eyes.

  “I promise,” he replied. He hugged the girl and retrieved the sword from his workbench. Ren had placed it inside a leather scabbard and wrapped it in cloth to protect it during the journey. It scarcely resembled a sword, and Yori was grateful for it. He did not want to appear armed should someone recognize him as a half-elf.

  The morning’s weather was pleasant for traveling. A soft breeze was blowing through the air, shuffling the dried leaves that littered the road. The trees were giving off their last brilliant display of red and gold before succumbing to the long sleep of winter. Luckily, the air was not cold, and Yori did not regret his lack of a coat.

  He encountered very few travelers along the road. A traveling merchant on a horse trotted lazily past, pulling a small covered cart behind. At midday, he stopped for a short break at the roadside. Sitting beneath the shade of a tall oak tree, he crunched one of the fresh, crisp apples his aunt had packed for him. Tossing the core into the woods, he started off down the road once more. At sunset, he neared a farmhouse and wondered if the family inside would mind if he slept in their barn. The clouds had been gathering throughout the afternoon, and he feared it might rain in the night.

  Adjusting his headband to be sure his ears were still covered, he approached the small farm. A blonde-haired lady was leading a silver horse into the barn for the night. She caught sight of him and paused.

  “Hello there,” he said. “I’m on my way to the palace district and wondered if you would mind if I slept in your barn.” His timing was perfect, as a gentle rain was just beginning to fall.

  The lady looked him up and down and obviously didn’t see him as any type of threat. “If you’ll rake out the stalls before you turn in, you’re welcome to stay,” she replied, wiping her brow with her sleeve. “My son has gone to join the army, and there are more chores here than my husband and I can handle.”

  “I’d be happy to help,” Yori replied. “Thank you.”

  She handed him the horse’s lead rope and went back inside her house. Yori led the horse inside the barn and tied him just outside the stall. He picked up the pitchfork and began sifting through the straw. Once he was satisfied with its cleanliness, he disposed of the soiled straw and droppings in the large pile behind the barn. He added a fresh bale of straw to the stall and walked the horse inside it. As he closed the gate, the horse gave a friendly neigh. He petted its nose and spread his bedroll on the floor just across from the horse. The work was a small price to pay for a dry place to sleep.

  When he awoke the next morning, he was surprised to find a plate of sliced bread smeared with blackberry jelly. He devoured the food greedily and licked the sticky sweetness off his fingers. He repacked his bedroll and placed it over his shoulder along with his knapsack.

  Unlatching the gate, he led the horse out to the pasture to graze. The woman was already tending to her chickens and gathering eggs in a basket. He carried the plate from his breakfast to her and said, “Thank you for the food, ma’am.”

  Taking the plate, she replied, “You’re welcome. Are you looking for work?”

  “No, I’m just running an errand for my uncle,” he replied.

  “Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “If you run into any other young men needing work, send them my way. There are lots of repairs needed around here, and I don’t know if my son will ever return. Safe travels to you.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Yori replied, feeling sorry for the overworked woman. He returned once again to the road to complete his journey to the palace.

  By nightfall, he was within sight of the palace. Just outside of the town, a group of merchants and other travelers had set up camp and were laughing and talking around a campfire. Yori thought it would be safer to join them rather than sleeping alone at the edge of the woods. He approached the men, who greeted him cheerfully.

  “Join us, young man,” a robust man said, lifting his mug. Yori nodded and took a seat near the fire. “You headed to the palace?” the man asked, offering him a mug of dark brown ale.

  “Yes,” he replied, taking the mug and tasting its contents. It was bitter and very strong.

  “Lots of lovely young girls in this town,” the man replied, raising his eyebrows up and down and grinning.

  Yori smiled back, realizing the man was drunk. Tasting the ale again, he decided it wouldn’t take much to accomplish the task. He had never tasted any ale so strong before. He wondered if it was the variety preferred in the palace district.

  Another man produced a lute and began to play. The music was cheerful, and the assembled party began to clap in time to the beat. Those who knew the tune began to sing along. Never before had Yori been a part of any celebration, and this one seemed to be happening for no reason. Life in Enald did not offer many opportunities for him, and he enjoyed the moment.

  Along with the free-flowing ale, the men shared their bread and salted pork. It was the best Yori had eaten since he left his home, and he was grateful. It was a nice feeling to be accepted without question. No one here was suspicious of him, and no one knew his secret. Here, he was simply a young man traveling along the road.

  A bright blue sky greeted him the next morning. He changed into his clean shirt, thanked his new friends for their hospitality, and continued into the city. He wanted to deliver the sword first thing and perhaps explore the town a bit when he was finished.

  The palace’s market district stretched on for what seemed like forever. There were scores of stalls selling a wide variety of goods, and he was sure it was at least four times larger than Enald’s market. It was still early, but citizens were buzzing everywhere. There were more people here than he could possibly count. He wondered how easily he could blend in here, and how long he would have gone unnoticed had he grown up in a town this size.

  Making his way to the palace was slow. The large crowds of people were in no hurry to move, and most of them walked back and forth between merchant stalls, browsing the goods and comparing prices. At last, he approached the huge iron gates of the palace where two guards stood at attention.

  “State your business,” the one on the right said, sounding bored.

  “I’m here to deliver a sword to Lieutenant Perrin,” Yori replied.

  “Go ahead,” the guard said, waving his hand. “The page inside will give you directions to his chambers.”

  Nodding, Yori entered the palace. Immediately, he was struck by the vastness of the interior. The stone floors were polished, and the walls were bright. Fancy brass sconces lined the walls, illuminating the room with a soft white glow. A large staircase with intricately detailed banisters filled the entire back wall and led upwards to rooms of unimaginable comfort. His uncle’s small home could fit in the entryway at least five times over.

  A dark-haired page greeted him at the door. “What can I do for you, sir?” the boy asked.

  “I, uhm...” Yori stumbled on his words for a moment. Never before had he been referred to as “sir”. “I’m sorry,” he started again. “I’m here to see Lieutenant Perrin. I’ve brought the sword he commissioned from the blacksmith at Enald.”

  “Follow me,” the boy said. He led Yori up the vast staircase and down a long corridor. The walls were lined with paintings featuring all manner of noble lords and ladies. All of them wore fancy clothes, and some of the men carried fine swords. A few were
painted with children or small dogs at their feet. They were so life-like that Yori had to restrain himself from the childish urge to touch them.

  The boy led him into a sitting room that contained the most lavish furnishings he had ever seen. There were various chairs placed all around the room, each complete with its own velvet cushion. Yori couldn’t imagine having such a comfortable place to sit.

  After a few minutes, Lieutenant Perrin entered the room. He was average height with a thick build. His eyes were bright, and his dark hair hung loosely at his shoulders.

  Remembering his manners, Yori waited to speak until he was spoken to.

  “You’ve brought the sword, then?” the man asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” he replied, presenting the bundle to the lieutenant.

  He laid the sword on a large writing desk and unwrapped it slowly. “Oh, this is nice,” he remarked. “This is very nice.” He lifted the sword in his right hand, checking the balance. Giving it a few swings, he tested the quality of the work. “Your master has certainly lived up to his father’s reputation.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” Yori replied.

  “Are you his apprentice?”

  “I am, sir,” he said.

  “Did you help forge this at all?”

  “Yes, my lord,” Yori replied, forgetting his modesty. “I inlaid the hilt as well.”

  “Most apprentices aren’t so bold. They only admit to lighting the fires,” Perrin said, laughing.

  Yori looked at the ground, unsure how to respond.

  Perrin turned the sword over in his hand and looked closely at the ebony inlays. “If I did work this good,” he began, “I’d want the credit for it as well. Apprentices can be much under appreciated. I was once one myself.” He winked at Yori. “I purchased this as a gift for Prince Aelryk. Would you accompany me to give it to him?”

  Yori looked at the man with a stunned expression. He had never imagined meeting any member of the royal household, and he had no idea how to behave in front of a prince. There was no reason this man should want him present, but it would be impolite to refuse. Ren would be beyond angry if the customer wasn’t fully satisfied, so he nodded in agreement.

  He followed the lieutenant back down the corridor and up a second flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, they entered the first door on the right which led into another sitting room. The page darted into the adjoining room to announce their arrival to the prince. Yori’s heart was pounding, and he hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself. He felt underdressed and completely out of place in these surroundings. Now he was going to be viewed by a prince, who would probably be insulted by his mere presence.

  The prince entered wearing a black satin tunic. “Good day, Perrin,” he said, his voice cheerful. He ignored Yori, obviously seeing him as an insignificant servant.

  “Your Majesty, I’ve had a court sword crafted for you as a gift. It’s early for your birthday, but I have never been good at waiting.” Perrin presented the sword to the prince.

  “This is very fine work,” he said as he inspected the hilt. He gave the sword a few swings as Perrin had done and ran his hand along the flat of the blade. “Truly this is a thing of beauty. Is this ebony?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” Yori replied without thinking. Perrin turned to look at him and smiled.

  “This is the sword’s maker, my lord,” Perrin said. “Well, one of them. A blacksmith named Ren from Enald has crafted it, but this young man is responsible for the inlay.”

  “Indeed,” Aelryk replied. “You have an excellent eye for detail. I imagine you could etch runes as well, had you been born with the ability.”

  Perrin laughed loudly. “I’m afraid you’d need an elf for that, my lord.” The prince laughed as well.

  Yori had a sudden urge to jump out of the window. He stood frozen in place, hoping he was not asked to speak again. He feared his voice may abandon him.

  “What is your name?” the prince asked.

  “It’s Yori, my lord,” he managed to say.

  “Yori, you have my compliments. You must pass them along to your master as well. Perrin, I thank you for this lovely gift. I shall wear it at all of the court celebrations.”

  Perrin bowed, and Yori followed suit. Together they walked back to the palace entrance where Perrin handed him a purse full of coins. “It’s been a pleasure, Yori,” he said. “Please give my best to Ren.”

  With that, Yori exited the palace. As he returned to the market district, his head still swam from the morning’s events. Just seeing the inside of the palace would have been enough, but meeting the prince himself had been surreal. Though he would never consider spending any of his uncle’s money, he decided to have a look at the local wares before once again departing for home. The road before him was long, and traveling solo was lonely business.

  Chapter 9

  A thick fog hung over the forest as Reylin began his watch. Scouts had reported soldiers in the area, and he had ordered his clansmen to take to the trees. Only a few archers and the sword maidens remained on the ground. They had no intention of running, and they would defend their village to the death. The elves who were unable to fight hid themselves high in the trees. They were the young, the elderly, and those who had no skill in battle. Their healer Doni was among them. He had taken a good amount of supplies into the trees with him in case the warriors were wounded in battle.

  Reylin listened closely to the sounds of the forest. The birds chirped happily overhead, and the wind gently rustled the golden leaves, escorting them delicately to the ground. In the distance, he heard the crack of a small branch and knew that the Na’zorans were on the move. He readied his bow, signaling the others to prepare themselves as well.

  Suddenly, horses burst through the tree line and into the village. Immediately, he loosed an arrow, knocking one soldier from his horse. His clansmen loosed arrows as well, and several men fell to the ground, clutching the arrows sticking out of their flesh. As their formation began to break, the sword maidens charged into battle. They quickly dispatched the men who had fallen from their mounts and began slicing at the legs of the men who had yet to be struck by arrows.

  As his dark eyes drank in the scene, Mi’tal tightened his grip on the slender wooden handle of his war hammer and swung it at the charging women. The first to charge his direction was a tall, dark-haired elf with a savage look in her eyes. She screamed as she swung her blade to meet his hammer. Before she could draw her sword back a second time, he struck, hitting her directly in the head. She crumpled to the ground and did not move again. A second woman charged him, barely giving him enough time to block her blade. He struck the auburn-haired elf in the back and continued charging through the ranks.

  Prince Aelryk’s stallion was spooked when a horse in front of him suddenly changed direction and charged straight at him. The horse reared, throwing the prince violently to the ground. Mi’tal, who had witnessed the event, dashed to the prince’s side. As he dismounted his horse to help Aelryk to his feet, an arrow grazed his left shoulder leaving a deep gash. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed the prince’s arm and pulled him up. Grabbing the horse’s reins, he used the animal for cover while he and Aelryk moved away from the center of the fighting.

  “Are you alright, my lord?” Mi’tal asked, breathing heavily.

  “I think I just had the wind knocked out of me,” the prince replied. “We need to get back on our horses and reform the charge. Somehow these elves knew we were coming.”

  As Mi’tal looked around the battlefield, he realized that the elves had every advantage. Though his troops were certain they had the element of surprise, it was clear that the elves had known of their presence. It was a stupid mistake on their own part. Of course the elves would have scouts scouring every edge of the forest. A large group of mounted soldiers would be impossible to miss. Most likely, the elves had been expecting an attack ever since the massacre at the farming village. They must have been lying in wait, hoping for the opportunity to turn th
is war to their advantage. Today they had succeeded.

  Arrows continued to fly from the trees as men and horses fell to the ground. The vast majority of the wounds were lethal, piercing the men through the eyes, neck, and heart. The mages at the rear of the assault stayed away from the fighting. From a distance, they began tossing fireballs at the huts, setting the village alight. The elves ignored the fire, and no one came running from the burning homes. With their clansmen safely evacuated to the trees, the elves would not be distracted by fleeing, unarmed citizens.

  Moving through the treetops, the elves inched closer to the mages. In one coordinated attack, four arrows were loosed and simultaneously struck the four mages. Three of them were hit in the neck, while the third was hit in the ear. He had lowered his head slightly just as the arrow came whizzing his direction. The elves considered the mages to be the greatest threat of all the human soldiers, making them a prime target. The chaos had left them completely unprotected, and now they were dead.

  “We need to get out of here,” Mi’tal called to Aelryk.

  Grabbing at the reins of a fleeing horse, the prince pulled himself onto the saddle. Mi’tal mounted a horse as well, and they began motioning and yelling for their troops to retreat. More than half already lay dead, and many others had been wounded. Once a dozen or so had managed to gather, they retreated back into the forest. More of the remaining soldiers followed, leaving the dead behind.

  The elves did not pursue the fleeing soldiers. They had accomplished their goal and proven themselves worthy adversaries. No longer would the Na’zorans attack frightened, unprepared elves. From now on, they would deal with a mighty elven force that was not afraid to fight back.

  “Reylana!” Reylin called as he looked around the battlefield. His sister’s auburn hair normally made her stand out among a crowd, but he had not seen her since the battle began.