by Adam Bishop
“We took them from the fallen Elves in Rhan. You must have seen the fire.” Baldric said.
“Aye, I saw the cloud of smoke. But you two don’t look like no warriors. What were you doing there?” The bowman was still holding his arrow in place—his arm as steady as stone.
“We were brought as prisoners, given a chance to win our freedom,”
“Brought by who?”
“Dadro Braxis, the King of Havelmir. He has started a war with the Elves. Rhan was the first to fall by his hand. We managed to escape, and now we wish to warn the Elves of the Veridian Veil.”
“Foolish Northerner! So, the peace has been broken then… I knew this day would come,” he replied. His tension eased on the arrow now. “Poor bastards, you two. I figured you’se were harmless when I saw you yesterday, but it never hurts to make sure.”
“Ha! I knew it. You were the one in the woods last night, weren’t you? I knew I heard something,” Baldric crowed.
“Me, no. You must have heard Viggo. He may be old, but he’ll never let you down during a hunt,” the bowman then let out a sharp whistle. “Come on, boy. They’re no threat.” A blue-eyed merle leaped out from the bushes and stared down William and Baldric. His eyes were a striking crystal blue, but that didn’t make his stare any less intimidating.
“If we’ve all decided that we’re no threat, then would you mind lowering your bow?” William asked. A lingering uneasy feeling remained in him as he stared at the arrow.
“Well, Viggo hasn’t barked yet—so I suppose you two aren’t half bad. The name’s Rhys,” the hunter said. “Sorry for the startling introduction. It’s not every day you see a new face in these parts.”
“So you live out here then, just you and your dog?” Baldric asked.
“Here, no. This is just my camp. My home is about half a day’s stride from here. You two would be more than welcome to stay in town if you help me lug my catch back home. I’ll vouch for you’se. A hot meal and a feathered bed for half a day’s work sounds like a fair trade to me,” Rhys suggested.
His offer caught both William and Baldric off guard. They had just gone from having their lives threatened to being offered dinner and a place to rest for the night.
“Did you say town?” Baldric asked in disbelief. “Here in the land of the Elves?”
“Aye,” Rhys nodded. “It’s a beautiful little village just a few miles outside the Valley of Larin. I usually hunt out in the Valley, but there’s been talk of murderous northerners tainting that path. Northerners in these parts … bah! I didn’t believe it at first, but now I’ve run into you two. This is a peaceful place it is—at least it had been for the past hundred years or so. Anyhow, I’ll ramble on forever if you don’t stop me. You lot coming or not?”
William turned to ask Baldric what he thought they should do, but when he saw the look on his friend’s face the answer was clear. “At least he knows where he’s going,” William teased. “Let’s grab the rest of our—”
Baldric ran off before William could finish his sentence.
***
After collecting their supplies, William and Baldric got into position and lifted the cart holding the deer Rhys had caught and followed their new guide through the remainder of the forest.
William found himself quite comfortable with their decision to follow the hunter back to his hometown. Although he didn’t know the man—or if he could even be trusted—he had to admit there was something genuine about him that made William feel like they had made the right choice.
“You said something about ‘one hundred years’ earlier. Are you saying people have been living out here for that long?” Baldric asked. “I’ve never heard or read of any such things.”
A thin grin painted the bowman’s face. “Yes, we’re somewhat of a secret. We live off the land and have been for over one hundred years now. We get few visitors, but the ones who come always leave with the best pipeweed south of the border and a belly full of beer. All we ask in return is your discretion. You must remain silent about us after your departure. The last thing we want is some highborn silk-stocking marching in with a long list of demands.
“It’s amazing how long you’ve managed to live in secrecy,” Baldric replied. “How many of you live in this town?”
“It’s hardly a town compared to those in the Highlands. More of a small community atop a hillside, known to us few as the Golden Breast,” Rhys told them. “Name comes from the way the sun lights up our hillside come morning. And if I’m not mistaken, we’re home to forty-three proud residents and four newborns this past year alone.”
“What about the Elves?” William asked. “They don’t mind you living out here among them?”
Baldric shook his head. “My friend here grew up at sea. I told him about the Elves, yet he still fears them. Please ease his mind, would you?” Baldric asked.
Rhys chuckled under his breath. “You have nothin’ to fear, boy. Your friend speaks true. The Elves are a peaceful race. They visit now and again—amazing musicians they are! You’ve never heard such enchanting music in your life, I guarantee that.”
Baldric’s eyes widened in excitement. “The Elves visit your town! Are any visiting right now?” he asked with his fingers crossed, anxious to exhale.
Rhys shot down his high hopes. “No, no. I doubt it. Not with everything that’s been happening lately. Although Griffith Howell did say he saw an Elf riding north towards Rhan about a week or so ago.”
Baldric was let down by this, although nothing could fully dampen his mood after everything he had learned today. He was excited to reach the Golden Breast so he could meet its other occupants. “That’s alright,” he replied. “Just a few more days till we reach the Viridian Veil anyway.”
“Its more then just a few days if you plan on walking,” Rhys said. “Have you thought about what you’re going to tell Elves? I have a feeling they’ll be a little more suspicious than myself.”
“We mean to warn them of who attacked Rhan,” Baldric answered. “The Braxi left no survivors, and I’ll be dammed if I let those bastards kill any more unsuspecting Elves. The sword I carry belonged to Lord Brannor. I plan on presenting it to Lord Thinduill, as a token of respect.”
“How is it you know so much about the Elves, being from the Highlands and all?” Rhys asked.
“He likes to read,” William put in. “And he likes to talk even more.”
“Oh, I can see that,” Rhys said with a smile. “I have a feeling your friend and old Brittle Brynmor will get along just fine. He’s our town elder. He has more stories than an Arcadian book merchant. Some call him Bitter Brynmor, but he’s got a good heart, he does. He’s just a little rough around the edges is all.”
“What’s an Arcadian?” William asked.
“You’ve never heard of the Arcadians?” Baldric interjected. “Nearly all of my books came from the Arcadians. They’re a peaceful society of scholars who live in the forests near Springwood’s End. I’ll tell you more about them another time,” he added. Then he shifted his attention back to Rhys. “Tell me more about this elder, Brynmor. Has he met the Elves?”
“He’s one of the few I know who’s lived with them,” Rhys replied. “But we're not far now. I’ll let Bryn tell you the rest of the story himself. I’m sure he’d say I told it wrong anyhow.” Before Baldric could answer, Rhys quickly readied his bow and signalled for everyone to crouch and keep quiet. “Viggo heard something,” he whispered. “Keep still and he’ll let us know where it’s coming from.” William and Baldric balanced silently on their heels, watching as Viggo picked up the scent. Rhys then pointed to a deer about twenty-five yards to the right of them. He slowly readied an arrow and aimed his shot, but Baldric unexpectedly fired an arrow first. Viggo took off before anyone had a chance to speak. “I hope you’re a good shot, boy. That deer was bigger than the one you’se are pullin’ now.” Just then Viggo barked to confirm the catch. “Well, well. It seems the Northerner may know how to shoot after all,” Rhys s
aid looking pleasantly surprised.
“Best archer in Cellagor,” Baldric boasted.
“Come see me after you visit the Viridian Veil,” Rhys said through a smile. “If you still feel that confident, I’ll ask you for lessons meself.”.
“I would be more than happy to provide archery lessons,” Baldric said with a puffed-out chest.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, boy. Let’s go see if your shot made its mark first.”
They made their way towards Viggo’s location. The blue-eyed merle was sitting beside a fallen deer, an arrow sticking out of the right shoulder of the buck. “A perfect shot!” Rhys exclaimed. “Your arrow pierced the heart … impressive.”
“Don’t encourage him,” William said. “His confidence has already broken a scale or two.”
Rhys let out a deep-bellied laugh. “I’m sure it has, my boy. But I’ve got to admit a fine shot when I see one.”
“Well thank you, Rhys. It was a good shot,” Baldric agreed, grinning ear to ear. He had rarely gotten the opportunity to show off his archery skills in the years spent in Havelmir. Peasants weren’t allowed to participate in any of the tournaments held in the Kingdom. The only competitions Baldric ever took part in were small contests held behind the Maidens Pearl—which weren’t even really contests to begin with. He always won those with ease.
“I could use some help here, boys … not to pry or anything, but he’s a heavy son of a bitch,” Rhys pointed out. He was holding the deer’s head up by the base of its horns. Baldric quickly picked up its hind legs and helped Rhys carry it back to the wagon. The wooden cart creaked and cracked under the weight of the second deer.
“Looks like you’se two have earned more than just your stay. I’ll make sure you’re well stocked up before you leave,” Rhys said. “Let’s just hope that cart survives the rest of the way.”
The forest started to thin out a short while later. William and Baldric were relieved as they noticed the woods’ end. The weight of the cart was beginning to take a toll on them—however, not having to worry about going around trees or pushing through fallen brushwood was a comforting thought. There was still no beaten path to follow, but it almost felt as if there was one. The thicket of the wood had lost its grasp, and both foot and wheel combed over the forest floor with ease.
“Your cart seems to be holding up,” William said. “But I’m not sure about Baldric. He looks to be having a bit of trouble.”
Baldric tried to hold back a smile as he fixed his grip on the wagon. “No, I’ll be fine. You’re just freakishly strong for your size. It must be all that fresh sea air from your childhood.”
Rhys laughed at their bantering. “If you two youngins need a break, I can take over for a while. You can even jump in the back with the deer. Bit of weight won’t make any difference to me,” he jabbed.
“Well we’re nearly out of the woods now,” Baldric pointed out. “The hard part’s almost over. I’m just not looking forward to that hill you spoke about.”
“Aye, the rest of the way ain’t bad. As for the hill at the Golden Breast, well—I have a pair of oxen who’ll take the weight off your shoulders.”
They trudged along with Viggo sniffing nearly everything along the way. The treeline was in sight now, and a gust of fresh air blew down from the mountaintops in the Valley of Larin. Once they all made their way out of the forest, Baldric stopped for a moment to appreciate the view in front of him. Lush fields of green stretched out in every direction, with large patches of wildflowers scattered about its natural surface. The peaks of the towering mountains kissed the clouds in the distance. Baldric assumed they were within sight of the Valley of Larin’s cliffs. He felt as though he had stumbled across a secret haven. The land sat thriving and untouched. Nature in its purest form, he thought. Then he said, “I feel like I’m standing in a painting.”
“Beautiful, ain’t she?” Rhys said. “I couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else.”
“It gives the ocean a run for its money,” William admitted. “If I ever had to live on land, this is the first place I would come.”
“Well, home is just west of those mountains. We should be able to make it back before nightfall if we don’t linger. I’ll carve up one of those deer for dinner—a little inspiration for the trek home, eh?” Rhys said. His words brought on a shared growl in William and Baldric’s stomachs.
“Sounds good to me,” Baldric replied.
William nodded. “Let’s get moving then, shall we!”
***
They made their way across the picturesque landscape. The cart bearing the deer now rolled steadily across even ground, and pleasant bird songs followed them as they brushed through the endless blades of grass. As they drew closer to the mountains, a small hilltop peaked out under the hem of the sky. The Golden Breast was now in sight, and a sense of ease was shared between them all—but mostly between William and Baldric. Somehow the sight of the small town made the cart they were pulling feel lighter, and the excitement Baldric felt when he first heard about the secret village came rushing back.
They didn’t talk much during those last few miles. Hunger had set in—its pulling pain stole away any thought of conversation. Dusk introduced itself as they reached the foot of the hillside.
“Here at last,” Rhys said. “You two take a rest now. I’ll go fetch the muscle.”
“Can you believe this, Will? A hidden town in the land of the Elves,” Baldric said. He was staring up at the wooden rooftops peeking out above the top of the green hill in front of them.
“I still can’t believe we’re alive,” William replied. “I thought that arrow would be our end.”
“Ahhh, he had kind eyes. I knew he wouldn’t shoot us.”
William gave his friend an addled look. “Right, kind eyes. I should’ve noticed.”
“Exactly,” Baldric said, oblivious to William’s sarcasm. He was too preoccupied with the Golden Breast and its history. He wanted to know everything. When was it built? Who were the founders? What were the Elves like? The questions ran endlessly inside his head.
“There was something Rhys said earlier that got me thinking,” William confessed.
“What’s that?”
“He mentioned something about an Elf riding toward Rhan around the same time we were there. You don’t think that could have been the same rider we saw, do you? The one we ran from. Surely it was a Braxi soldier, right?”
Baldric withdrew his attention from the small town and considered this. “You know … it’s possible. That would be something, wouldn’t it?” he chuckled. “Nevertheless, we managed just fine on our own in the end, didn’t we? And if it was a Braxi soldier, he would never dare travel this far south anyhow.”
“That’s true. It was just a th—”
Before he could finish speaking, William froze. At first, he didn’t understand what was happening. He briefly panicked as the frightening realization of it all quickly became apparent. But then, an overwhelming surge of serenity washed over him—and with it came a distant voice. He couldn’t make out exactly what the voice was saying, but he knew it was calling out to him.
Suddenly, as quickly as it had occurred, everything returned to normal. He glanced at Baldric to see if he’d noticed anything, but thankfully his friend was still fixated on the small town above. William figured it best to keep quiet, as he had the last time. He didn’t want to dampen the mood—and part of him thought that, if he didn’t say anything, he could actually go on believing that nothing had happened.
A strange noise coming from the distance helped redirected his attention. It was a low-bellowing grunt, and at first he had no idea what it was. Then he realized it was just Rhys leading his two hulking oxen down the back of the hillside.
“Come now! Come you, lazy logs, you!” Rhys bantered. “You’ve just been eating all day, you have. I know it’s late, but get a move on, will ya? I’m hungry meself.” One of the oxen let out a deep moan of a grunt, as if to tell Rhys off. “Oh,
I love you too, Peter. But let’s get movin’, eh?” the hunter replied in a playful tone. Once he secured the ropes around both Peter and Grant, he led the friendly beasts back up the hillside. William and Baldric followed close behind.
***
The small town of Golden Breast sat peacefully atop the hillside. There were no high stone walls or wooden gates surrounding the town, nor were there roads—a few dirt trails were formed into the ground by boot and wagon, but nothing one could call a road. A neat row of small stone houses fit with shingled roofs stood like sentries on the west side of town, and what looked like a large farmhouse of sorts stood three stories tall at the hills’ end. The town’s east side hoarded a cluster of houses—some attached, curving around a market—while most were detached homes of all shapes and sizes. A large inn was built at the western-most edge of the hilltop. It looked over the mountains that made up the Valley of Larin, though due to the town’s well-preserved secrecy it acted as more of a gathering place for the town’s residents.
It was getting late and most of the town’s folk had gone in for the night. The few who remained outdoors quickly took notice of William and Baldric. No one shot any dirty looks—they were more surprised than anything else. Nearly one hundred years had gone by since a human had visited their quaint community. Surely it was exciting to see new faces, as most of the townspeople had only ever known their neighbours.
“Here we are, then,” Rhys said.
They were standing in front of one of the stone houses on the west side of town. The wooden roof sloped down both sides, with beautifully carved bargeboard lining the gabled rooftop. Rhys led them around to the back, whereupon he unlatched a set of large wooden barn doors. He guided the cart holding his freshly caught deer inside. “Wait here a moment. I’ll need some light if we mean to fill our bellies tonight.”
Rhys returned moments later holding two heavy iron lanterns. He placed one over a large blood-stained table and hung the other off a pair of antlers decorating the opposite side of the room. “That’s better, eh?” he said. “Shouldn’t handle sharp knives in the dark. Looks like you had a bit of a nose bleed William. Grab a rag, there’s plenty lying around in here.” Rhys then slung a deer over his shoulder and heaved it onto the table. He removed a dagger from his belt and began sharpening it. “Either of you skinned a deer before?” he asked.