by RG Long
That was a statement Wisym could agree with. It had been Holve's original plan that she, Teresa, and Silverwolf all go searching for the elves of the trees and learn about them. The people of Darrion knew little about the elves of the continent, being far too content trading and sailing on their own land than venturing south to see what relationships they could make with another race.
To their credit, the forest had been quite intimidating, even for Wisym who had grown up around the woods. Something about these trees felt unusual, almost magical and unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the way Rimstone peeked through the ground at different spots but remained untouched by greedy hands. The glow gave the forest an odd light.
Two days into their journey, they awoke to find Silverwolf had vanished. No sign of her leaving, no note explaining why and no reason Teresa and Wisym could think up to justify it.
Wisym almost felt concerned for the woman, but then she remembered all the stories Ealrin had told about her. And how he talked about her.
In ways, she was glad to be rid of the assassin because it meant she slept better at night. Now, however, she wished she was still with them just for the solace of another companion among so many strangers. Teresa picked up a few sticks and began to pile them into a fire stack.
She had nearly taken out her flint to light it when Wisym caught her eye and shook her head. Several elves had gathered around them to see the strangers and were regarding Teresa with angry curiosity.
Wisym was sure a fire would not go over well with these elves. Not one started by them at least. She had seen a few light small fires to warm themselves. These had been made with great care and the sticks selected with reverence.
Teresa's haphazard collection of twigs would probably offend someone close by.
Begrudgingly, the princess stuffed the flint back into her pack and, instead, removed a thin blanket. Scooting up against a tree, she huffed and sighed several times before leaning against the bark and shutting one eye.
Wisym doubted she'd sleep at all with the chill and the strangers surrounding them, but was at least glad Teresa hadn't started a fire. That may have cost them dearly.
The burly female elf she had seen earlier came up and stood above them. Teresa's one open eye looked up in her direction.
“I am Elen,” she said. “I am Eren's guard and protector. Tomorrow, you will walk with me as we track the fox beasts.”
Having said that, she turned and walked away without giving Wisym a chance to introduce herself or respond in any way. Many of the elves were now laying down on the forest floor or on beds of grass and leaves. Elen simply stood leaning on her branch with a stone tip: the most primitive of spears.
“It's like being with Holve again,” Teresa said as she adjusted herself against the tree.
Wisym chuckled lightly.
“I'll take first watch,” she said, knowing Teresa would prefer they not sleep at the same time. “Get some rest.”
Teresa huffed, nodded and closed her other eye.
Wisym sat up and observed her surroundings. The smooth rhythmic breathing of a hundred elves filled her ears and joined the chorus of other night sounds: owls in the trees beginning their hunt, bats in the air searching for bugs, and the light, soft-padded feet of other nighttime animals out looking for a meal.
So began their time among the Wood Walkers.
12: Responsibility
Holve and Ealrin held their lanterns high in one hand and their weapons ready in the other.
“I swear, if she's fallen asleep out here, I'll make sure she never hears the end of it,” Ealrin said in the light of his oil lamp. The lanterns they carried were small brass lights that hung on a pole as long as Ealrin's arm. A burning wick protruded from a metal sphere, casting light all around them. It allowed him to hold it up high and see the terrain around him more clearly.
Lone Peak was one of many cliffs and hills that started on the eastern side of Irradan. Their rocky faces all pointed west, towards the sea. On most of the flatland areas, farmers worked the ground and planted crops to feed the city. Along each of these fields ran a tree line to protect the crops from the harsh winds that often swept up and down the cliffs.
Along each tree line was a road that wound itself in and along the farms and up to the city. Ealrin had seen Blume riding her horse up and down these roads several times. He had gotten into the habit of watching her from on top of the walls until she finally rode out of sight. It was along these roads now that Holve and Ealrin walked, lanterns held high, looking for the very late Blume.
"She's always come back before sundown," Ealrin said as he looked down the road towards the lower hills. "I know she was feeling more and more familiar with the place, but to come back after dark is dangerous."
Another howl filled the evening air with its low and piercing tone.
"Tell me a bit again about those foxes?" Ealrin asked as the note held heavy in the air.
"Wrents," Holve replied. “As vicious as a goblin and just as cunning as a wolf. Most of them won't stand any higher than Jurgon. They travel in packs and mostly live up north."
Holve was calm on the outside and Ealrin was thankful for his company. He was also extremely grateful because he knew how well the man wielded the spear beside him.
"People in Darrion say that they will travel down south every couple of years when their population grows too much or they run out of food to hunt. They claim right to all these lands because, apparently, they were here first. The elves and humans drove them north hundreds of years ago.”
He held his lantern high. Ealrin could see down a fork in the road. Trees and fields ran down each side. A small marking post pointed out the way to Lone Peak and the names of the roads they traveled.
“Not many of them have said that they travel down this far south," Holve finished saying after he looked at the signs.
He stooped down and cast the light of his lantern on the ground.
Though the path they walked on was packed dirt, the ground beside it had been freshly plowed and planted in anticipation of a better harvest later in the year. In the dirt were tracks like dogs, but much larger and in twos instead of fours.
"But people have been wrong before," Holve said, standing up and again surveying the circle of lamplight that surrounded them.
Ealrin's sword suddenly felt quite warm in his hand, though the night air was cool.
"There!" Ealrin said softly, pointing with his sword at several points of flickering red. Just off to the side of the road, down a newer and shorter tree lane, were faces.
Many sets of eyes were watching them. Another earsplitting howl filled the night air along with several wild barks. The red lights began charging at them with uncanny speed.
Holve stuck his lantern pole into the soft ground beside the road, its lamp swaying with the force of impact. Taking his spear in both hands, he ran toward the nearest Wrent and vaulted into the beast. Holve's foot connected with its snout and Ealrin heard a yelp of pain.
Ealrin wielded his sword in one hand and the lantern in the other, swinging in at the two foxes that were encircling him. They snarled and wielding their own weapons of wood and stone. One of them made a stab at Ealrin with his spear. He knocked the spear from its hand with his lantern. With another swipe of his sword he cut off the beast’s right paw.
Though it went howling away in pain, its companion took the opportunity to launch itself on Ealrin, knocking him down. The lantern pole fell from his hand as he attempted to keep the beast's jaws away from his neck. With his other hand he swung wildly with the sword but the Wrent's legs kicked his arm away.
The fox bit into his shoulder and sunk its teeth deep into his muscles. With a yell of fury and pain Ealrin thrust his sword into the side of the beast, causing it to recoil and retreat.
Adrenaline flowed through Ealrin as he stood back to his feet. His left shoulder was bleeding and every movement of his arm was like torture. His lantern's oil was spilling out onto the road and, with a slight
shift of wind, the wick brushed the fuel. It burned in a large swath on the dirt road, illuminating what Ealrin had been fearful of.
Three of the creatures lay dead at Holve's feet, but ten or fifteen more circled around them, growling and shaking their weapons at the pair.
Seeing Ealrin's injury and then looking at the foxes that surrounded them, Holve furrowed his eyebrows and yelled words Ealrin did not understand.
With a forceful jab at the ground, white light exploded from Holve's spear tip. Rocks and all manner of stone and gravel flew out at the foxes. The pack retreated yelping in pain and snarling with anger.
Holve picked up his lantern. Ealrin's had gone out.
"Come on," he said as he dragged Ealrin back up the road and in the direction of Lone Peak.
Ealrin noticed a large scratch on one of Holve's legs. It didn't look serious, but he was bleeding enough to soak down to his boot.
"We need to get that bite looked at," Holve said as he led the way up the path.
"What about you? And Blume?" Ealrin asked as his head swayed and pain throbbed in his shoulder. Every step sent a pulse of anguish up his arm and to his shoulder. If Holve was hurt in the same way he was, Ealrin didn't know how the man walked.
"I'll manage. Let's hope those foxes won't be attacking anyone again soon," Holve said with grim determination in his voice. “Plus, she's got Jurgon with her.”
Silently, the pair made their way back to the safety of the wall, injured and without the girl they had left to find.
"And it's time she learned to take responsibility for her own actions."
13: Legends of Old
Coriander's hair was blown by the wind that helped to carry their boats north up the river of Enoth. The great lake their capital city stood on emptied into the vast sea that Irradan engulfed. Because of the strong wind and fast current, their boats quickly traveled towards the sea.
He had never been much for sailing, preferring the dry and firm ground to a swaying boat. But he was also the general of the imperial army, and wherever the emperor desired him to go, he went.
There was still much, however, that troubled him about this venture. He attempted to take his mind off of his worries by admiring the grand fleet of Enoth.
Ten beautiful sailing ships had left the port that afternoon and began their journey north. Each was painted white and flew purple sails with the glory of Enoth displayed all around them. None of these vessels were as beautiful as the one he now rode, the Emperor's Might. Five great sails held the wind that carried them along. Hundreds of crew members raced this way and that to steer the ship, clean its decks, and make its voyage smooth.
Rophilborn the Eternal was on board this ship, and all must go according to plan.
Coriander looked out over the horizon and saw the same landscape he had become accustomed to throughout his life: dry land with brown dirt and patches of green grass that grew intermittently along the way.
He much more preferred the view of his home, with its sprawling towers and glittering houses, to this paltry landscape.
But the emperor had requested to sail.
Looking back over the rails at the ships that followed behind, Coriander was able to make out the one that he had not anticipated coming along with them on the journey.
A black ship with yellow sails trailed the white ones that proudly flew Enoth's colors. The last ship flew only one flag: the yellow and orange flag of the Order of the Comet.
Rophilborn's last command still unnerved Coriander. Why had the emperor desired these radicals to come along with them? Why had resources been made available to help them come when the city was in need of every ounce of wheat it came by?
“What troubles the mind of the great elf general?” a deep, low voice asked as Coriander snapped out of his reverie.
“Nothing,” he replied, without glancing to see who had spoken to him.
He already knew.
“And why aren't you with your priests on the ship you thought we needed to bring with us?”
The tall priest joined him at the railing, looking back to the black ship. Coriander could nearly hear the smirk that was on Cedric's face. The priest knew the emperor's approval caused Coriander much chagrin.
“His Excellency requested that I join him on his personal vessel, much like yourself,” he said with an air of pride and satisfaction that caused Coriander's fist to curl.
The general turned towards the priest and eyed him with suspicion.
“I do not know what you are plotting, Cedric,” Coriander said, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “But I quake for the empire if you've managed to put your poison into the heart of the king.”
Instead of backing away at being threatened so, Cedric stood and smiled widely.
“There is no need to fear, General,” he said smoothly. “The empire is in the blessed hands of the Eternal One. We have nothing to fear.”
With a smile still etched on his face, Cedric began to walk away. As he went, he stretched out his arms and began to proclaim, loudly:
“The glory of Enoth sails to the ignorant lands. Let us praise the Eternal One and show them his power!”
Coriander's fists clenched and his eyes narrowed at the priest. He already knew full well that this would not be a peaceful voyage.
CORIANDER COULD HEAR the voice in his head as clear as it had been that day.
"I can't come to see you anymore."
"Why not?" he had asked.
Listening to the voices inside his head made him realize just how desperate his own words had sounded. He wasn't asking. He was pleading.
Imploring.
"I just can't."
"It's because of him, isn't it?" he had accused. He now could feel the hurt that he had wanted to inflict with those words. The hurt he felt for saying them.
In his mind, he saw the pain that those words had inflicted and the regret that he had tried so desperately to hide.
"It's forbidden."
"CORIANDER? SIR?"
This new voice was not inside his head, but rather from outside the door to his room.
"Yes," he said, bringing himself back to his current surroundings. "Come in."
Night had fallen and still the ship sailed north.
Coriander had retired to his chambers, intending to get a full night's sleep after being so busy the previous few weeks preparing for this day.
Instead of sleeping, he sat in a chair by his desk, pen in hand and blank piece of paper in front of him. The words he had intended to write had been interrupted by his reminiscing.
Evelyn opened the door and stood at attention in the door frame.
"Yes, Evelyn, what is it?" Coriander said, sitting himself up.
Evelyn cleared her throat.
"His Excellency requests your presence on the deck," she said, apparently still star struck from being addressed by Rophilborn and being sent on an errand for him.
Since the emperor normally stayed in the Imperial Palace, away from his subjects and out of communication, having him so accessible and present felt strange. All the elves on the boat seemed to be cleaning and sailing to the best of their abilities, as if their lives depended on it.
Coriander put down his pen and put on his uniform coat. He was going to see the Emperor after all. After a moment, Coriander was ready and walking out the door with Evelyn.
"When you're talking with him, see if you can catch a glimpse of the black ship," she said under her breath as they rode up the stairs down to the lower deck.
Coriander studied her, puzzled for moment, but she only shook her head as she looked up in the direction of the voice calling them.
"General Coriander," came the voice of Rophilborn. "I would be honored if you would join me for a stroll along the upper deck.
Looking up, the elf general saw the emperor dressed in a modest gold robe, holding his hand out to him.
Bowing low, he started to ascend the stairs and join his ruler above. He looked back to see Evelyn standin
g at attention near the stairs to the lower level.
Her presence had not been requested.
It was a beautiful spring evening. The stars shone brilliantly up above in a cloudless night. Just before reaching the top stair, Coriander glanced to the end of the procession of ships and saw a strange orange glow emanating from the deck of the black ship filled with priests of the Comet.
The sight unnerved him.
"General, I must give praise where praise is due," Rophilborn said as he greeted him at the top of the stairs. "If there have been any impediments to our leaving I was not aware of any of them."
Coriander bowed another time.
"My commanders are top notch, Your Excellency," he said. He was being honest. Finore and Evelyn had worked tirelessly to ensure this journey would be flawless for their emperor.
"I see you put your faith in the right people," Rophilborn said as he turned from Coriander and began to walk to the other side of the upper deck. Since it was night, there were very few elves up on deck. The captain had retired to his quarters; his first mate, a plain but gifted sailor, was at the helm. She bowed her head at the approach of the Emperor and saluted Coriander. After this, her eyes remained straightforward and her mind appeared fully fixed on the task at hand.
Reaching the other side of the boat, Rophilborn put a hand on the railing and looked at the landscape that was dimly lit by the light of the full moon.
"I hope I have done the same," he said in a tone that sounded more like reflection than a question or observation.
"Your Excellency?" Coriander asked, not following his leader's train of thought but joining him at the railing all the same.
"I hope I have put my faith in the right people," Rophilborn said more resolutely. "I'm the oldest living of our people, though none who see me could tell. Some venerate me as an object of worship.”
This was an understatement, Coriander knew. Many elves did worship the emperor. Not as a god, but simply as the most praiseworthy elf on Gilia. Such a title was not lightly given.