Mirien’s face hardened. “No, that privilege belongs to my elder brother. It is to him you must pledge.”
Lothar cocked his head. “Then you are of the main line, Milady?”
“I am the youngest granddaughter of Halyifa Tolyrandil,” she replied. Lothar’s eyes flared at the mention of Mirien’s grandmother’s name. Mirien noticed his reaction, and the sudden keen interest of the other elves. She stood up and addressed the company at large. “Yes, she lives yet.”
Reaching down, she pulled Lothar to his feet. “And you are Lothar Neblasan, who was the young rising star of the protectors six hundred years ago.” She smiled into Lothar’s ancient eyes. “Grandmother has not forgotten you or your brethren. She made sure to tell of your deeds to all her grandchildren.”
Lothar bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Milady. You have given me renewed hope for the future.”
“Call me Mirien, please,” she said, taking his hand. “And come, we have tried the commander’s patience long enough. He looks ready to explode.” The maligned Talien, who—contrary to Mirien’s words—seemed to be patiently waiting for the two to finish, nodded sharply in response before striding forward again.
Lothar laughed and allowed Mirien to lead him onwards. As Mirien walked away with the old warrior, her eyes crossed Kyran’s. Later, her gaze promised.
Kyran nodded and followed in the whiesper’s footsteps, content to wait for her explanation.
✽✽✽
Yiralla bounded gracefully upwards, her supernaturally strong body allowing her to bridge the three-metre rock face in a single leap. Standing carelessly on the escarpment’s lip, she looked down.
A long line of ascending figures was stretched out below. As agile as her soldiers were, it would still take the troll company at least another hour to complete the climb.
A scuff of a boot drew her attention. Glancing forwards, she saw two of her scouts approach. They had been examining the escarpment’s upper reaches for signs of their quarry. “Have you found him?” she asked.
“Yes, Champion,” replied the senior scout. “The trail leads directly north, straight into the Elder Forest.”
Yiralla grimaced. She had been afraid of that. She’d hoped the free agent would continue working his way eastwards along the northern slopes of the range. He would have been much easier to run down that way.
And why is the elf even entering the Elder Forest? She scratched her chin thoughtfully, not quite able to figure it out. Hadn’t the free agent just escaped Crotana’s grasp? Why would he head back there? The Elder Forest was no place for the weak. Had he realised she was on his trail? But how? She was too far back for him to have caught sight of her.
She would have to enter the forest and contend with the creatures there. Not that she was afraid of what lay within Crotana’s green heart. But there were things in the forest that even she had to be careful around.
She had no choice though. She had her orders. In the foul mood her god was in, she hesitated to contact him unnecessarily.
If needs be, I will run down the free agent to the gates of Crota itself, she vowed. “Show me,” she said, stomping forward.
Chapter 22
08 Novo 2603 AB
It is a surprise to many that the Brotherhood have survived as long as they have, and that despite all the domains’ efforts to root them out, the vermin continue to operate under our very noses. Yet unknown to most, there are black-market devices that have the ability to conceal a mortal from divine sight and so obscure their player data that even a player’s insight ability fails to reveal their true identity. And while these illegal devices are not perfect, they work well enough that the Brotherhood filth can continue to infest the low quarters and poorly patrolled areas of our cities with impunity. —Xen Lize, high priest of Balkar.
The column, grown larger by the addition of the four protectors and returning scouts, resumed its journey north. Since the screen of lookouts seemed to be no longer needed, Kyran assumed they neared their destination.
From his position the middle, Kyran peered ahead to where Mirien walked, surrounded by protectors. She was in a low-voiced discussion with Lothar. Despite Mirien’s refusal of Lothar’s offer, it seemed that the protectors had already adopted her as their charge. He wondered what the two were speaking about.
“Well that was unexpected,” said Adra from his side. He glanced her way. She was also staring at Mirien and the protectors.
“She told me her family was from the Elder Forest originally,” Kyran admitted. “But I didn’t expect—”
“That she was a princess? Me neither,” replied Adra with a wry smile. “And a member of the Brotherhood too,” she murmured.
Kyran frowned. He would not go so far as to call Mirien a princess. But Adra’s point was valid. What was a member of a family as prominent as Mirien’s, doing in the Brotherhood?
He turned to Gaesin, who was walking on the other side of him. “What do you know of her family, Gaesin?”
Gaesin shook his head, apparently still in awe. “I don’t know how I didn’t recognise her family name earlier. The Tolyrandils are amongst Myelad’s most famed families.” He paused. “Or were, before Crotana’s fall. The family has one of the oldest recorded lineages on Myelad, dating back hundreds of years before the Game itself. Even the most ancient chronicles refer to a Tolyrandil ruling in the Elder Forest. And they did so right up until the fall of Crotana.”
It seemed Adra was right. Mirien was royalty. Kyran’s brows drew down in confusion as something else occurred to him. “But I thought that after the Game’s inception all the domains fell under the rule of champions?”
Gaesin bobbed his head. “That is true for most of the demesnes. But not Crotana. When Eld took ownership of the mountain kingdom, he did not depose the Elder Forest’s rulers. Instead, he invited the Tolyrandil family to jointly govern with his champion-kings.
“Even amongst the high elves, the family is renowned. They were said to have a unique relationship with the forest and acted as both its custodian and voice.” His face scrunched up in thought. “I vaguely recall hearing mention of an offshoot of the family that took up residence in an enclave. Somewhere in Auriel’s kingdom, I think.”
“Auriel’s kingdom?” asked Adra, looking doubtful. “Are you sure?”
Gaesin shrugged. “No, I’m not. Before Mirien, I had never met or seen any of the family.” He smiled. “But I’m sure Mirien can tell you.”
“What does—” Kyran broke off when he sensed a change in the forest around them.
“Kyran?” asked Adra.
“Did you feel that?” he asked, closing his eyes and reaching out with both psi and essence to probe the surroundings.
“Feel what?” asked Adra, perplexed.
“I felt something too,” Gaesin said. “But I am not sure what,” he admitted.
Searching out into the air, Kyran thought he detected a faint haze extending upwards from the ground and arcing high overhead.
He opened his sight to ether, and started in surprise as the half-seen shimmer transformed into vibrant dome that shone brightly in the spirit plane. Reaching out with his will, he probed the magical construct—because that was what it surely was—with insight.
Concealment ward (rank IV).
Concealment wards are magical constructs that obfuscate the shielded area from scrying. Unlike a scrying barrier—which prevents sight into a region but does not hide the fact of its existence—a concealment ward also obscures its own presence. However, its illusion is increasingly easier to detect with proximity. This is a rank IV field and requires an effective magical skill of 120 to overcome.
“It’s a concealment ward,” said Gayla, unconsciously echoing the information provided to him by the Game.
Kyran opened his eyes and saw that the elven archer had walked back to join the party, even as the rest of the column streamed by. Seeing his attention fixed on her, Gayla continued, “It hides Eldervale from hostile eyes.
”
“Eldervale?” he asked.
“Our refuge. Come, you will see,” she said, waving them forward.
Obediently, Kyran and the party followed the young elf, but she stopped only a few minutes later and looked expectantly at them.
Kyran looked from Gayla to the forest beyond. It appeared no different from the ocean of trees they had been traipsing through all day. What was Gayla expecting them to see? “Is there—” he began, then stopped as a door opened in what he had taken to be a dense thicket.
He leaned forward, peering intently at the mass of bushes, thorns, and brambles. Now that he studied the thicket closely, he realised it was suspiciously uniform, and at nearly six metres in height it was taller than any other foliage they had encountered in the forest thus far.
He looked left and right. The thicket extended in a dense, unending expanse in both directions, disguising whatever lay beyond. “It’s a wall with a concealed entrance,” he remarked in surprise.
Gayla nodded approvingly. “Right you are. And beyond it, lies home,” she said as she hurried forward again. The party, following on her heels, advanced more cautiously.
The young ranger was noticeably more carefree and forthcoming than she had been during their journey through the forest. Perhaps it is knowing she has reached the safety of home, he thought. Or maybe it was because Talien was absent.
Gayla slowed when she neared the concealed door. Even though he had marked its location, Kyran still found the door’s outline difficult to trace. The young elf looked up and waved. Following her gaze, Kyran spotted two archers concealed in the trees above. How many other hidden watchers are there?
The older of the two tugged on a rope next to him and caused the concealed door to swing inwards again. Stepping within, Kyran and the party found themselves inside the thicket, in a darkened tunnel formed of twisting branches and green, leafy growth.
Seeing Kyran stare wide-eyed at the enveloping walls of green, Gayla said, “The thicket itself is Eldervale’s wall. Over the centuries it has been carefully shaped by our growers into a dense and impenetrable mass that encircles the entire refuge.”
The tunnel cut into the thicket was large, easily accommodating even Aiken’s bulk. Its walls were also dense enough that no light penetrated from the outside. Peering down its length, which was too gloomy for his eyes to penetrate, he asked, “How deep does it go?”
“Over fifty metres,” said Gayla proudly as the door swung shut and shrouded them in darkness. “Oh, I forgot about that,” Gayla said. “Can everyone see?”
Kyran cast truesight before replying, “We can now. Lead on.”
The party traversed the strange tunnel carved through the thicket, marvelling at its construction. As they approached its far end, another door slid open and revealed the settlement beyond.
Kyran let out a low whistle of appreciation as he beheld the elves’ refuge. He had been expecting some sort of tented camp, not neatly arrayed rows of log cabins with green and manicured pathways running between, each lined with flowers of multiple shades and hues. And that was just the ground level.
Elegant wooden pathways floated up into the trees, held together by ropy vines of brown and green, whose far ends landed onto more log cabins. Smaller than the ones built in the ground, the treetop cabins were nestled within the large boughs of the ancient trees themselves and hidden from outside sight.
It has to be a village, at least, thought Kyran. It was too large to be called anything less.
Walking gracefully on the rope bridges and green avenues were the refuge’s residents, all wood elves as far as Kyran could see. As they moved about their business through the village, they whispered amongst themselves, but more than a few glanced curiously at Kyran’s party.
“Welcome to Eldervale,” Gayla said, beaming at the party’s silent appreciation of the settlement. “The buildings on the ground floor are our shops, schools, meeting halls, and other spaces reserved for business or public use. The cabins within the trees are our homes.”
Kyran stared upwards into the maze of pathways that disappeared within the concealed heights of the ancient forest oaks. “How high do they go?”
“The highest cabin is built more than a hundred metres aboveground.”
“We won’t have to stay in one of those, will we?” asked Gaesin nervously. “I may be half elven, but I have no head for heights.” Aiken huffed loudly, echoing the half-elf’s concern.
Gayla laughed. Kneeling down, she ruffled the great bear’s coat. How does he do that? wondered Kyran. Winning everyone over so easily. Aiken swung his head around to Kyran, his eyes twinkling smugly.
“Not at all,” Gayla replied to Gaesin. “Rooms have been set aside for your party on the ground floor in the rangers’ barracks.” She glanced forward to where Mirien and the protectors stood waiting a short distance away. “Although, I suspect Lothar will want to house you in the protectors’ barracks now.” She gestured towards the waiting protectors. “Come, let’s go see what grandfather has in mind.”
“Grandfather?” asked Kyran, stepping up to her side.
Gayla blushed. “He is not really my grandfather. But he and my grandmother are the two of the oldest people in the refuge, and the pair spend a lot of time together. I saw a lot of him growing up, so it’s no surprise I’ve started calling him that.”
“Your grandmother survived Crotana’s fall as well?”
Gayla nodded, then shot him a glance. “She’s the dowager.”
“Ah,” said Kyran. That explained Gayla’s seeming authority over the older Talien. Recalling the commander, Kyran looked around, but couldn’t spot him or his ranger company. “Where is Commander Talien?” he asked.
“Probably gone to see to his men,” Gayla replied. “You will most likely see him again when you meet the dowager.”
“And when will that be?” asked Kyran.
By this point, they had reached the waiting protectors and Mirien. Overhearing Kyran’s last question, Lothar replied in Gayla’s place, “After you’ve a chance to rest and refresh yourself.” The old warrior turned to the young elf. “Gayla, I will house them in the protector’s barracks. We have more space there.”
Gayla nodded. “I thought you might want to.”
“Inform your grandmother. I will escort them to her once they are rested.”
“Of course, Grandfather,” replied Gayla. She waved goodbye and hurried off.
Lothar turned to the party. “Follow me, please,” he said before striding down the large central avenue of the refuge.
Kyran hurried forward, deliberately stepping up to Mirien’s side. The protectors walking in her shadow gave way only reluctantly. Lothar, on Mirien’s other side, cast him a tight-lipped smile, but did not say anything.
Mirien gave Kyran an amused half-grin before resuming her conversation with the protector. “How old is Eldervale, Lothar?”
“Nearly six hundred years, Milady,” he said. “The dowager founded the refuge soon after the war’s end, gathering together as many of the survivors as she could.” He paused, lost in memories. “Those early days after the war were… difficult. We lost more than we should have, to hunger, despair, and the ferals that were quick to swarm through the kingdom’s unprotected borders.” He looked gravely at Mirien. “If not for the dowager, I fear we would have faded away altogether. She held us together, gave us purpose—” he glanced around the surrounding town—“and built all this.”
The dowager sounds formidable, Kyran thought.
“Who was she before the war?” asked Mirien curiously.
“That is for the dowager to share with you if she wishes,” said Lothar stiffly. “Though I don’t agree with all her decisions, she has earned both my loyalty and respect.”
“I understand, Lothar,” replied Mirien, placing her hand on the protector. “I apologise if my question crossed a line. I don’t expect you to break your trust on my account.”
The protector sighed, the tension in his po
sture expelled at Mirien’s words. “No, it is I who must ask your forgiveness, Milady.” He smiled wryly. “I fear I have not quite come to grips with events.”
Mirien eyed him shrewdly. “And perhaps, you are beginning to realise reaffirming your oaths to the Tolyrandils is not as simple as you thought it would be.” She held up a hand to still the old warrior’s protest. “I do not question your loyalty, Lothar, but it is clear matters are no longer as simple as they were six hundred years ago, and your sword has—rightfully—been given to another. Don’t be too hasty to abandon your new loyalties, Lothar. I do not ask it of you, nor do I think my grandmother would.”
The old protector stopped, bringing the others to a halt with him. He gave Mirien a half-bow. “Thank you, Milady. You are wiser than your years. I will think upon your words,” he said before walking forward again.
That was well done by Mirien, thought Kyran as he silently paced by the whiesper’s side. By not demanding the old warrior’s loyalties, Mirien had bound the protector more firmly than she realised. Her words had been generous and straight from the heart, and Kyran suspected Lothar had responded as much to the whiesper’s sincerity as to her words themselves.
The whiesper had passion and fire aplenty, but also a code of honour and integrity that seemed unbent despite the clandestine nature of the organisation to which she belonged. It had taken Kyran himself weeks to learn this truth about the whiesper, and now he depended on her as much as he did on Adra and Gaesin. If not more so.
Kyran lips pursed in thought. He could not ignore, though, that Mirien’s lineage was going to be an added complication to a situation already grown more complex than expected. Given the elves’ ties to the undead and the hints of internal strife, Kyran suspected that fulfilling the dowager’s request was going to be no easy task.
Chapter 23
08 Novo 2603 AB
The Tolyrandil Wardens have protected the Elder Forest for millennia, yet their true purpose remains shrouded in mystery. Who exactly are the Wardens’ charges? Certainly not the people of the forest themselves. When the gods invaded the Elder Forest and put the citizens of Aldanna and Celne to the sword, what did the grandfathers and Warden do? Nothing. Whatever the Wardens’ true purpose, rest assured, Divines, it does not touch on the Game. The Wardens are irrelevant and can be safely ignored. —Corin Mislav, Iyra hound.
Sovereign (The Gods' Game, Volume IV) Page 32