Radamar held up his hands, carrying Benny's with them. “We need help.”
Sword points surrounded them.
Teacup still in hand, a middle-aged elf stepped forward. His red-brown hair was coiled into intricate braids that fell nearly to his knees. His nose twitched as he held up a hand. “It seems we have intruders. I see no tails or horns among them, so perhaps this time we should listen to them before we kill them. Now tell me, what is a desert elf doing in my father's realm?”
“Father, father...” Radamar muttered to himself. “Oh. You're Lord Cyrrian Coralglade, eldest son of Duke Cyril Coralglade, right?”
“I am.” Cyrrian's black eyes narrowed. “And who might you be?”
“Radamar Nightshadow of Mountain Home, Crimson Realm.” He lowered his hands and indicated to Benny. “This is my wife, Belinda. Her father, Mord. My brother, Ralandar.”
Cyrrian's lips tensed as his eyes darted toward Juna. “No Nightshadow has been heard from in two years. Why is your face covered?”
Radamar shrugged and glanced at Juna. “He thinks he has the desert lesions. What do you call that in this realm? Ah yes, woestensy. I think he's a hypochondriac, but we're keeping him covered just in case. Whatever he's dealing with, his face is beginning to look a bit grotesque, and we don't want anyone else to get it. We're taking him to the colony off the coast of Auberline. I can't quite remember the name. Despair Island?”
Cyrrian's hand flew to his mouth as he recoiled. “Isle of Lost Hope. Keep yourself covered and distant, Lord Ralandar. How do I know you truly are Lords Radamar and Ralandar Nightshadow and not impostors?”
“I can give you our lineage if you like.” Radamar planted the butt of his polearm in a patch of moss and leaned against it. “I mean, as far as lords go, I'm not a significant one, unless of course the rest of our family isn't in hiding and instead has gone off to the great beyond. I'm the youngest son of Halladia Shademantle and Madinar Nightshadow, the last of five children. Three older sisters and this spineless lout.” He clicked his tongue as he cocked his head toward Juna, whose shoulders sank as he shook his head in exaggerated irritation. “My father was the son of Lady Malia Nightshadow, who needs no further introduction. My father's eldest sister was Mara Nightshadow, mother of the late Duchess Ranalae Nightshadow-Goldtree of the Jade Realm, but she's dead now so she can't vouch for me. Not that she would, anyway. My aunt and I never did get along after I called her a raging cu–”
Cyrrian waved his hand as if swatting away a gnat. “I get the idea, Lord Nightshadow. Why are you here?”
Radamar startled as coaxi stomps shook the ground. “Like I said, we're taking my brother to the woesten colony. We were camped out in the desert a while back and woke up surrounded by Fae. They took us hostage. Locked us up in a crate for what must have been months. Then your soldiers came along, Light bring them peace, and we called for help. One of them broke the lock just before he was struck down by one of those Fae monstrosities. We ran until we saw the flags of your esteemed realm, so now here we are.”
Cyrrian rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Do not approach, Lord Nightshadow. If the three of you were locked in a cage with a woesten for an extended period, you likely have the disease now yourselves. Keep it to yourself. What do you need so I can get you away from me as quickly as possible?”
“A couple horses would be nice, if you have any to spare. Maybe a map and some basic provisions. If not, I'm sure we'll eventually make it there on foot, though we'll have to stop more often in populated areas...”
Cyrrian addressed the nearest guard. “Find them some horses. We've lost enough of our cavalry to have extra. Give them . . . give them whatever they need as long as you do it quickly.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “Tragic how far the Nightshadows have fallen. Too many generations of interbreeding with the other races, I assume. You may be all that are left, you two and your half-breed wife, and now the family line will die out in a woesten colony. Good luck, I suppose, Lord Nightshadow. You certainly need it.”
Radamar held up his hands and shrugged. “Yeah, I know. I'd appreciate if you wouldn't tell anyone about our little predicament, Lord Coralglade. It's rather embarrassing.”
“Just get out of my realm, Lord Nightshadow.”
Mordegan waited until the leadership camp was out of sight before clapping Radamar on the back. “Woestensy? You're a clever little shit, aren't you? Quick thinker. You might've made a good merc in another life.”
“Is that a compliment, Mordegan?” Radamar asked, an eyebrow raised.
“It is.”
Benny smiled to herself as she led her new horse along the spongy morass road. Maybe there was hope for this motley family after all.
14
Hael
“What do you think this is?” Elan held up a book. His hand partially-covered some sort of animal with purple flesh, tangled tentacles, beaks, and talons.
“I don't know, but I hope it's a small creature.” Hael set down her writing slateboard and squinted at the drawing. “What is it?”
Elan moved his thumb to reveal a series of letters. “H-E-D-O-L-A-R.”
“I don't know what that spells.”
“Hedolar. And they're huge, as big as the entire keep. They live in a place called ocean, a pond so big you can't see across it and so deep there is more water beneath than sky above. Sometimes they come on land and attack hives.”
“Towns. They're called towns, cities, and villages, not hives.” Hael took the book from Elan's hands to examine it more closely. She knew what most of the letters on the pages were now, but she couldn't figure out how they created words. “This can't be real. It's a story.”
“No, hedolar are real. Some people here have seen them. Ask Iefyr. He fought one. Him and Tessen and Ragan and Kemi. Ragan's mom killed it, but she died doing it.” Elan went to the shelf and pulled out another book. The people in Mountain Home had so many books, often more in a single house than the number of leather word scrolls that had existed in the entire Vetarex hive. “Look at the rest of the book if you want bad dreams. There are so many creatures here, and some of them are huge and scary. Varaku are tiny insects next to things here.”
“Are they bigger than dragons?”
“Some of them.” Elan flipped through the pages of the book before handing it to her. All but the simplest of books were too difficult for him even though he was the quickest of all the Uldru to learn the letters.
Hael opened to a random page and gasped. A spindly creature with a segmented body and a mouth as wide and toothy as six Varaku their heads pressed together towered over some sort of wagon with flags attached. The ground around them was blue-gray and rippling, and the creature's thin legs were swallowed by it.
“R-E-E-F W-A-L-K-E-R,” she spelled out, stumbling on the F and K. “I don't know how those letters sound together. Do you?”
“Reh-eff wa-le-kar?” Elan suggested with a shrug. “I don't know.”
“Is this ocean?” Hael pointed to the blue-gray ripples on the picture.
“Yes. It looks like wavy stone, but it's all water.”
Hael closed the book and placed it on top of the slateboard. “I don't think we should go to ocean. Ever. Bad things are there.”
“Bad things are everywhere,” Elan said.
“But small bad things are easier to fight than big bad things. And those are very big, very bad things.” Hael leaned back on the chair and looked up at the ceiling. They lived in a house instead the catacombs now and she wasn't yet used to living more like a Varaku than an Uldru. The chairs and beds were comfortable, there was always food to eat, and no one was demanding that she do something or else be eaten. The Uldru were allowed to choose what they wanted to do. Some were learning how to make things, some were learning about plants and animals, and some were learning how to read so they could learn about anything whenever they wanted. Hael chose to be in the last group. If she was going to continue leading her people in their freedom, she n
eeded to know as much about their new world as possible.
And it was terrifying. Creatures and fights and poisonous plants . . . sometimes during the span of a single breath she wondered if she'd made the wrong choice by bringing her people here. Then the breath was over and she acknowledged that thought as ridiculous. They were free, they were happy even when things were frightening, and they were becoming stronger and healthier than they'd ever believed possible.
A rapping sound filled the room. The people of Mountain Home called it knocking and it was a request to enter. The Uldru were never allowed such privacy before and most of them found it confusing that it was expected to ask to enter a home. The knock alone told Hael that the person at the door was not an Uldru.
“I'll open it!” Elan chirped. He dashed across the crowded room and threw open the door. “Oh, hello Ken . . . Kendrian Lightborn. Elves have such long names. Why?”
“Each syllable ties us to the generations before,” the yellow-haired elf said. He looked beyond Elan at Hael. “My name is short and simple compared to some in my family. I was named for my mother's father, who died the same day I was born. That's part of our convention. In the event of a tragedy, babies are named directly after a parent who dies before or during birth, or after another close relative who dies as the baby is born. The latter is incredibly rare. If no one's dead, the syllables from both families are combined to create a new name. I think that's why Iefyr ended up with his mess of a name. His parents were Ienya and Fyrel, so his elven mother must have used highland convention to name him, specifically the convention that looks only to the parental generation to name the firstborn child of orphans. They weren't orphans, but his mother didn't want anything to do with her family of birth after what they did to her and Iefyr.” He cleared his throat and nodded at Hael. “I apologize. I seem to be rambling. Hael, will you speak with me?”
Hael beckoned to him. “Come here.”
Elan ran over to grab the book of creatures, then returned to the door. “The sun is finally leaving. I'm going to go find Iefyr and ask if these reh-eff wa-le-kars are real.”
“Go.” Hael waved Elan off, then beckoned again to dawdling Kendrian. “Come here.”
A basket balanced on his hip, he slowly approached. He was a quiet, sullen person who Hael had never seen participate in conversations with others, so she had no idea why he had thrown so many words at Elan or why he would want to talk to her. He set the basket on the short table, then stood in front of the empty hearth.
“It's cold in here,” he said, embracing himself.
“I don't know how to make a fire yet,” Hael replied. It was true, but not because she hadn't yet had time to learn. In the hive, creation of fire had been forbidden to anyone but the Varaku flamemaster caste because too much fire would eat the air and choke the people. There was infinite air in Mountain Home, but the fear of air starvation was carved into the mind of every Uldru. Those fears had been made reality when Hael used the flamemasters' mother fire to ignite the hive.
“Your people would rather freeze than risk burning down their new homes. I understand that.” Kendrian stacked wood in the hearth, then struck a match. “You must conquer this fear first. Show your people that careful fire usage is safe. Winter has only just begun and it will become much colder before the season is through. Fire is essential for warmth, but also for cooking food and making water safe to drink.”
“We were given blankets.” Hael nodded at the layers on her lap. Five blankets were enough to keep her comfortable, but the weight was a burden when she shifted positions.
“Quilts aren't enough for a Redcairn highland winter.” Kendrian sat in the chair opposite Hael and opened the basket. “I made too much food for myself so I thought I'd share it.”
Hael took a triangle from him. It was a warm pocket of bread filled with something that smelled like herbs. “Thank you. What is it?”
“Elk hand pie. The meat is from Ara's hunt this morning.”
“Ara is your dragon?”
“Yes.”
Hael bit into the pie. It had a heavy, savory flavor that spread warmth through her gut and left her feeling satiated after just a couple bites. The breading had a flavor that she now recognized as buttery, a flavor given by the beaten milk of the bleating creatures the people farmed. Elan liked the taste of butter so much that he often ate whole spoonfuls off serving dishes when he thought no one was looking.
“This is delicious. Thank you.” Hael removed a blanket as the fire warmed the air.
Kendrian nodded, but looked into the flames instead of at her. “I like to cook. It's the only thing I'm truly good at, but it's considered a profession unbecoming for someone of my birth.”
“Because you are a child of the leader of this world?” There was a name for what Kendrian was, but Hael couldn't remember it. The word didn't exist in the hive. “I'm sorry. I can't remember what your caste position is called.”
He flinched as he closed his eyes. “I'm a Prince of Bacra. I'm the seventh child of the High King and the Moonlight Guardian, sixth child still living, and all of my brothers except Nellantor have children, so I'm about seventeenth in the line of ascension and I'll never be High King myself. Which is wonderful. I don't want it, not at all, but my title means I'm restricted in my life choices. I am intended to be a Commander of the Moonlight Regiment and the eventual replacement for Elsin Sylleth, but I don't want to be. My mother doesn't want me to be that anymore, either. She doesn't know what to do with me.”
“You are free. Do what you want.” Hael took another bite of the hand pie. She was already full, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from continuing to nibble at it.
Kendrian shook his head and his ragged loose hair fell over his eyes. “I can't. I already bring shame to my family by possessing no magic. I don't want to shame them further.”
Hael held up the remnants of her pie. “This is magic. You cook magic.”
He held a hand over his mouth as he laughed. “Oh, I'd love to be a simple cottage witch, but I'm not. I'm just . . . I think you'll eventually understand better. I've learned that the Varaku have strict castes and rankings. It can be a little like that with elves. It is very difficult to become something that doesn't fit into the caste you were born into. I was born into the highest of highborn elf families. What I want is irrelevant when I have to do what is expected of me.”
“But you are not a slave.” Hael took the cup of liquid he offered and drank it. It was light and sweet, without a hint of the ferment found in the liquids some of the Mountain Home people drank. “I was. I was told what to do and when and how. I was beaten and shamed if I did wrong. I have scars from that, but at least I wasn't eaten. My parents were. Many Uldru I knew were. We lived with death and fear. You don't. You are free.”
“But I am afraid. And I'm not as free as everyone thinks I am.” He leaned over his knees and stared into the crackling fire. Orange lights danced through his turquoise eyes.
“Why are you here? You don't speak to people. I've heard you don't like people. Why do you speak with me?” Hael studied the remaining corner of her pie. She was overfull, but she couldn't bear to waste food, so she popped it in her mouth and chewed it slowly.
Kendrian's eyes remained fixated on the fire. “I'm worried about what will become of the Uldru.”
“Why?”
“There are so many things in this world that you don't know about and might never understand. There are people who would use your people to a terrible end, people who would exploit you and abuse you because they know you were bred to fall in line and follow orders. They would think of you as stupid animals who can be manipulated. You're not. Your people are intelligent and resourceful, capable of becoming something great, but only if you're allowed to realize that before someone hurts you.”
“We were nothing but insects before. How do we become something great?” Hael asked. Her chair squawked against the floorboards as she scooted it closer to him.
He looked up at h
er and a sad smile appeared on his lips. Elven faces were strange, but she was becoming used to them. This one would have been as pretty as Min if his eyes were larger and his pale skin wasn't so dull. He dragged a single finger down the side of his face and said, “You're already great. What you did for your people is incredible. You need to be mindful that there are people like the ones I mentioned, though. Learn what you can from the people in Mountain Home, but be careful who you trust.”
“Are there ones here I shouldn't trust?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My mother. My sister too, for that matter.”
“Why?” Hael was too hot now. She pushed aside the remaining blankets and fanned herself with both hands until the excess heat subsided.
Kendrian's eyes darted to the side as he raised a hand to his mouth. He touched his face too much, as if reassuring himself that it was still there. After several breaths, he lowered his hand to his knee and said, “I'm not allowed to know. The Moonlight Guardian is a hereditary title passed only from mother to daughter or granddaughter. As much as I'd prefer to be my mother's daughter than her son, I am not. I'll never know the secrets of the Guardian or her inner order. I do love my mother and sister, but I don't know what their ultimate goal for this world is. I don't think it's simply to protect dragons and nature. It has to be something more.
“I had an older sister, Lyliana. She was supposed to be the next Moonlight Guardian, but she died seven years ago. Mom told us that Father killed her because she fell in love with a human, but that isn't the truth. I saw Lyliana two weeks before she died, and she was pregnant. She tried to hide it, but she was so far along that it was obvious. Father has some strong convictions because of his devotion to the goddess Velphina, the Lady of Light, and because of what he believes he would never kill an unborn baby, a newborn's mother, or a dragon. He wouldn't have killed her even if the child she carried was a half-human, because he wouldn't punish the baby for what he considered the transgressions of its parents. I'm certain that Mom lied to all of us and because of that I no longer trust her.
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