Fields of Wrath

by Mickey Zucker Reichert

  Tae had to smile. If Kevral had needed more than six sword strokes to kill him, she would have taken her own life instead. He also realized they had gotten far off-subject. He steered the conversation back to topic. “Speaking of Renshai, I’m going on a spying mission. I promised King Griff I’d bring a Renshai with me.” He stopped there, hoping Subikahn would take the responsibility onto himself without needing to be asked.

  “Which explains your interest in Saviar’s whereabouts.”

  Slowly, Tae turned his head toward his son, feigning incredulity. Although he would never reveal the truth of that statement, it bothered him that his son had struck so close to home. “I asked about Saviar because I thought you had run off together. Twins have a tendency to do that.” He modulated his voice to make it clear he meant his next utterance to be taken seriously, “I’m trying to ask you to accompany me without—”

  “ -– actually asking?” Subikahn supplied.

  Tae knew what he had to do. “Subikahn, would you please accompany me on my mission? It will be grueling and dangerous. One or both of us may not survive.” He added facetiously, “On the downside, it will take you away from home for at least a week or two.”

  Subikahn’s smile finally faded as he clearly considered the offer. They had reached the edge of the city before he finally said, “No.”

  Tae had not expected that. “What?”

  “I don’t think I can go.”

  Tae heaved an exasperated sigh. “I get it.” He dropped to one knee and adopted a wheedling tone. “Please, Subikahn, please. I’m begging.”

  Subikahn grabbed Tae’s wrist and hoisted him to his feet. “No, Papa. I’m not joking around to make you beg. I just have to spend some time with Tally. I promised.”

  Tae examined the sky. Red-and-orange bands still colored the horizon where the sun had fully disappeared. The last rays of dusk would soon fade. “I can give you a few hours for . . .” As Tae considered how they might use the time, the words died on his lips. Despite his new acceptance, he could not say what he was thinking.

  Subikahn did not make him finish. “No, Papa. It’s not just about saying ‘good-bye. ’” Finally, he seemed to have given up on teasing. “I really wanted to go back East with your army and Talamir. I have things I need to discuss with Grandpapa.”

  Tae clamped his back teeth together. Weile’s charisma had become legendary, the only man who had ever organized criminals en masse and gotten the better part of bargains with the most unreasonable of kings. A need to meet with Weile Kahn never boded well for anyone. “Do you want to talk about it . . . with me?”

  “It wouldn’t do any good. It’s one of those things that requires . . . his . . . expertise.”

  Tae heard the squeak of his teeth grinding, and forced himself to relax. “I can keep the army in Béarn until we return from our mission, or we can meet up with them later. I need to send a message to my father as well. We could . . . combine notes?”

  Subikahn pursed his lips, looking sideways at his father. “You really want me to come with you.”

  “More than anything.” The words were true enough, if not exactly for the reasons Subikahn assumed. Without him, Tae would find himself stuck with Rantire.

  Subikahn shuffled his feet, looked up at the fading dusk, then back at Tae. “I’ll talk to Tally. If he’s all right with me going, I’ll meet you . . .” His expression turned puzzled.

  “There’s a double-masted, lateen-rigged—”

  Subikahn interrupted. “You mean a ship?”

  Tae smiled. His son knew little to nothing about sailing. “A ship, yes. Moored at the lower dock with the Northern longboats. It’s the smallest one there. Get there as soon as you can, definitely before sunup.”

  “You mean, I don’t even get a night—”

  “Sorry.” Tae hoped he sounded sincere.

  “What would you have done if I hadn’t arrived when I did?”

  Tae did not have an answer.

  To the immortal, centuries pass like months; but the shortest-lived see every moment’s glory.

  —Colbey Calistinsson

  BY THE TIME CAPTAIN REACHED Béarn’s Strategy Room, the guards had left their posts, indicating the meeting had concluded. Captain lowered his head, trying to decide how to proceed. More than anything, he wanted to return to his ship, the only place he ever felt truly comfortable, but he had a duty to Tem’aree’ay and Midgard. He could not leave before doing what he could to assist her and her mission, however doomed it seemed. Not expecting an answer, Captain knocked softly on the Strategy Room door.

  A muffled voice wafted through the panel. “Come in.”

  Captain tripped the latch and allowed the door to swing slowly open. In stages, the crack revealed the barren walls, the simple wooden chairs, and the table holding only a map of the continent and nearest islands. King Griff and his elfin wife sat in chairs facing away from both door and table, studying their half-breed daughter. Ivana seemed to be trying to do something with her awkward, oversized fingers.

  A smile wreathed Griff’s features. He looked pleased and relieved to see the oldest elf. “Come in, Captain. Please, join us.”

  Captain stepped inside the room, closing the door behind him. Ivana sprang from her chair with an ear-splitting shriek of welcome.

  Tem’aree’ay winced at the sound but also grinned at Captain’s entrance. “Arak’bar Tulamii Dhor, what a wonderful surprise. My husband told me you had come, but he didn’t seem to think you would honor us with your presence.” She chose to address him in Common Trading speech, presumably in deference to Griff and Ivana, neither of whom would understand the Elvish tongue.

  “Tem’aree’ay Donnnev’ra Amal-yah Krish-anda Mal-satorian.” The elfin name flowed effortlessly off Captain’s tongue, and her grin wreathed most of her face. She probably had not heard the entirety of it in years. He considered doing Ivana the same justice, but it seemed unnecessary. To the child, it would sound like a string of random syllables. However, he did nod a greeting toward her, more for the sake of the parents than Ivana. They would want him to acknowledge her as normally as possible. “Your husband need only speak a request, and I would gladly assist him if it is within my power.” He gave Griff a pointed look.

  Like the king of Béarn, Captain had dedicated himself to neutrality. In his original capacity, he had served the Cardinal Wizards, the embodiments of the world’s forces, equally, never favoring good or evil, law or chaos. That, he suspected, was the sole reason he still existed long after the system, itself, had expired. Though he addressed Tem’aree’ay, Captain deliberately stared at Griff.

  Griff flushed under the scrutiny. “I didn’t wish to presume. I thought it daring enough to request one favor from an immortal.”

  “I’m not an immortal.” Captain had no idea whether or not he spoke the truth. Just because he had not died of natural causes yet did not mean he never would. “I’m merely the longest-lived elf. I sometimes think Frey assumes I died with the Cardinal Wizards. Or, perhaps, he has forgotten me.”

  “More likely,” Tem’aree’ay said, “he still has a purpose for you.”

  Captain saw no reason to argue. No good could come of challenging the judgment of the gods, particularly when it pertained to one’s own lifespan. “So, how can I help the king of Béarn and his queen consort today? King Tae Kahn Weile’s son says you can use my advice.”

  “Tae?” Griff’s expression revealed a mixture of simultaneous surprise and pleasure. Captain had become adept at reading human faces, better even than elfin ones. “You found him?”

  “Actually, he found me.” Captain also smiled, the natural state of his face. Over the years, he had developed permanent facial lines in a happy pattern, akin to human wrinkles aside from their location. “That’s usually the best approach with King Tae Kahn Weile’s son.”

  Ivana let out another squeal and h
urled herself at her father. Griff caught her easily, hauling her into his lap with a grin of genuine pleasure. “Good advice, Captain. I’m going to remember that.”

  “But it’s not the advice you wanted from me.”

  “No.” Tem’aree’ay took over with an all-too-human sigh that made Captain wince. Elves who spent too many years among humans tended to develop similar mannerisms and gestures. He did not know if the reverse might also prove true, as the elves had never encouraged or accepted humans among them. “I’m charged with leading another expedition to implore the elves to assist humanity in battle. The first time we tried it, they refused. The second time, no one could find them.” Her beautiful sapphire eyes found his yellow ones and held them. “Can you help us . . . find them?”

  Captain disengaged from her examination, resting his gaze on every item in the spare room in turn. “I can help you find them, but that’s probably the most you can hope for from me.”

  Upon receiving disappointed looks, he continued. “It’s true the current elves abandoned Dh’arlo’mé’aftris’ter Te’meer Braylth’ryn Amareth Fel-Krin and his svartalf to follow me, but it had far more to do with Frey’s interference than my charm. Until our creator arrived, only one elf chose to follow me, a child. The rest had named themselves dwar’freytii, claiming to follow the will of Frey. When he branded them ‘unworthy’ and explained his plan to relocate them to a dark, quiet place where they could simmer in their hatred, most finally realized that anger and vengeance do not suit elves. Those who subsequently joined me were spared, and he took the rest to Svartalfheim, where their decisions could no longer destroy us.”

  Captain had voiced the only vote against sowing chaos in Béarn through assassination and had gone renegade over the decision to allow Rantire to live when the other elves had condemned her to death. “I’ve lived on Midgard for thousands of years. I was the only elf not on Alfheim when the fires destroyed it. Most of the others consider me menneskelik.” He searched for the translation. “Humanized.”

  Tem’aree’ay unconsciously rubbed her arms and torso, reminded of her own agony. Captain knew it had taken years of magical healing to abolish the physical scars; and, for some, the emotional ones remained, though most of the worst cases had become svartalf.

  “They worried I put the best interests of men over those of elves. In a situation such as the current one, I would prove less than useless to you.”

  Tem’aree’ay shook her head, clearly disagreeing. “So it might seem, but they always listen to you in the end.”

  Though Captain could not wholly deny the truth of that statement, it did not change the facts. “Eventually. They see the light on their own and take the proper course despite my counsel. But I often think they do so much quicker when I’m not involved in the decision.”

  Tem’aree’ay clearly realized that arguing the point would not change Captain’s mind. “Where will we find the elves?”

  Captain considered. He tended to lose track of time, and years often slipped by without his notice. Much could happen in that span. “I sailed some of them . . .” He gave Tem’aree’ay a nod, “. . . including you, from Nualfheim to Béarn.” He explained for Griff. “Nualfheim is our name for Elves’ Island.”

  Griff nodded his understanding. Likely, Tem’aree’ay had mentioned it over the years.

  “Later, I took them back to the island in groups. For at least the last decade, you’re the only elf I didn’t return to Nualfheim. I haven’t sailed a single one anywhere since that time, so I have to assume they’re still on the island.”

  Griff clamped his lips shut. Clearly, Captain had added nothing helpful. They must have already considered the island and discarded it. “The last time we sailed to Elves’ Island, we saw no sign of them at all.”

  The words did not surprise Captain. “That means they did not wish to be found, not necessarily that they have gone away.”

  Griff clutched Ivana in front of him, rocking gently. “But if we can sail to them, they could sail to the continent, right? I mean, Elves’ Island is due south of the Western Plains and not far out to sea. The only ones who might have seen them land are barbarians, and even they prefer the forests to the open plains.”

  The king had applied human logic to elves. “Elves don’t routinely build structures, Your Majesty. That includes ships.”

  “What about magically?”

  “Chaos must be shaped by law to become magic, so it works within boundaries. Since the destruction of the Cardinal Wizards, I’m not sure even the gods have the power to create solid objects from magic.”

  Griff nodded brusquely. Humans had a different attitude toward gods than elves did, seeing them as dangerous supreme beings that required constant reverence and worship. “But couldn’t the elves build something shiplike and use magic to patch any errors in construction?”

  Captain cocked his head, considering. “They could potentially build a ship, join in jovinay arythanik, and wind up with something reasonably seaworthy.” He was stretching the definition of worthy. “But they would have to start with an object that more than just vaguely resembled a boat. I believe if you talk to your shipwrights, Your Majesty, you’ll find it requires a long and arduous apprenticeship as well as many years of calculation and practice, a keen eye for proportion, an imagination that can take into account the effect on every part of his construction from windlessness to puffs to gales.”

  Realizing he could talk for days about the details of shipbuilding, Captain forced himself to take another tack. “Elves cannot risk a single life. To place a significant number on the open sea would seem to them like madness. If they wished to leave the island, they would simply contact me or hire human sailors.”

  Griff shook his shaggy head, and Captain took that to mean he would know if human ships had transported the elves. Captain did not know exactly how the king would know but assumed the humans would find it noteworthy enough that word would reach him. “Tem’aree’ay says there’s no magical way for them to travel from Elves’ Island to the mainland.”

  It was not strictly true. With enough chaos present at both ends, the elves could magically transport themselves from one place on Midgard to another. However, they would first have to relocate a significant number of elves to the endpoint by mundane means. “I think we can say with reasonable confidence that the elves still occupy Nualfheim, whether or not your people found them on their last visit.”

  Tem’aree’ay broke her lengthy silence. “Unless they left Midgard entirely.”

  Captain hesitated. It would require a large number of elves working together, but they could create a portal to an Outworld site. “Why?”

  Tem’aree’ay lowered her head. “To get away from . . . us.”

  Captain immediately assumed she meant the humans, not him and her, then another thought seized him. “You and Ivana Shorith’na Cha-tella Tir Hya’sellirian Albar?”

  She nodded glumly.

  Captain did not understand. “Are you chasing them? Do you pose them some lethal threat?”

  “Of course not!”

  Captain shook his head. “Then there’s little reason to assume they escaped off-world. First, it would require at least thirty banded together in jovinay arythanik. And where would they go?”

  “Svartalfheim?” Tem’aree’ay suggested.

  Captain gave her a glare that he hoped suggested she had taken leave of her senses.

  “Asgard?”

  “The gods would not allow it. Do you think they would risk the wrath of our creator? Again?”

  Now Tem’aree’ay shook her head. “Jotunheim and Alfheim were destroyed.” She named the worlds of giants and elves. “Niflheim.” She bared her teeth at her own mention of the world harboring Hel. “No chance.” Her features relaxed a bit, then stiffened again. “Of course, there are all the smaller worlds.”

  Captain discarded the theory. �
�They exist, but their access is random. We hopped a group around some of them by focusing on the shards of the Pica Stone. Without something on which to center their magic, they could wind up anywhere.”

  “Which would make them even harder to find,” Tem’aree’ay pointed out.

  Captain had meant something entirely different. He used a real-life example. “Like on a world of spirit spiders.”

  Tem’aree’ay shuddered. Spirit spiders consumed the souls of those they bit, and elves could not risk losing a single one.

  “Or one of utter chaos, underwater or eternally burning. A world ruled by elf-eating wolves or humans at constant war.”

  “All right.” Tem’aree’ay had clearly gotten the point.

  “So, unless your elf-seeking humans threatened to destroy them, body and soul, I don’t see the elves magicking off to some arbitrary place to hide.”

  Ivana let out another squeal of excitement.

  Griff’s brow furrowed. “I sent the group to win over the elves, not harm them. You don’t think we might have spooked them into . . . jumping worlds?”

  Captain could not entirely rule it out. Elves did things capriciously, on whims. They could spend a decade mulling a fine point of one specific aspect of the appearance of the moon, then waste every evening in random procreation. “Not likely.” He wished he could say “impossible.” He glanced at Tem’aree’ay. She shifted from foot to foot, clearly agitated, a state more suited to humans than elves. “Tem’aree’ay Donnnev’ra Amal-yah Krish-anda Mal-satorian.”

  She stopped moving to study Captain.

  “Surely you don’t believe the elves would skip worlds to avoid you and your half-human offspring.”

  Tem’aree’ay responded slowly, carefully. “There . . . was a time, albeit a short one . . . when our people considered living freely . . . near and in human cities. With humans.” She studied him, an all-too-human gesture through all-too-elfin eyes. “When it . . . became clear that . . . Ivana was not . . .” She paused a long time. Accustomed to lengthy silences between thoughts, Captain felt no need to finish her sentence, but Griff apparently did.