by Matthew Wolf
“Apologies, Hidden,” the captain said, referencing Rydel’s rank with deference. “That’s my queen, but not now. For now, he’s my student, and she’s yours. You may do as you like, but I will see mine well-trained.”
Heart, Karil thought happily. But the captain was right. As Logan rained a fury of blows, looking for an opening, Karil found her moment. Subtly, almost delicately, as if sidestepping his blade in slow motion, she spun, blade flashing. It landed near his neck.
But he was not there.
She tensed, feeling the wind part at her back. His blade. She dove, narrowly dodging the blade’s tip. She rose, lifting her blade, expecting a strike from above but it was a thrust. Narrowly, she dipped her head to one side. Logan’s sword knifed past her neck, skimming flesh. Karil growled. She knocked his blade away with her nusai, adding jang—an added power given to the blade when a last moment flick or twist was applied. But the blade didn’t shift… Logan somehow had added his own jang, and his sword rested near the nape of her neck, held back barely by her own blade.
“Almost,” she breathed through gritted teeth.
A tense moment hung, the crowds watched expectantly.
“Her feet!” the captain called suddenly.
Karil’s leg swung, sweeping Logan from his feet. He fell hard. She leapt upon him but he kicked frantically. She raised her blade, resting her palm against the flat of the blade to take the blow. It sent her back several feet. Logan leapt up. He charged with a cry, and his sword arced, fast and full of calculated fury. Her nusai caught it smoothly. She twisted her blade hard, snapping his wooden sword in her hooked crossguard. The wood shattered, half of his blade falling. But before Karil could rejoice in victory she felt wood touch her neck. Slowly, she twisted, eyeing a second blade—a short wood dagger—that Logan had hidden behind his back.
The young man panted, looking both confused and elated. He eyed his dagger as if almost unsure what he had done. His brown hair fell into his eyes, and he looked around, bewildered.
He had won.
Whispers of excitement sifted like a breeze through the amassed throng. Karil rose to her feet. Logan’s dagger dropped. He watched her with dread, as if preparing for his execution. Instead, Karil smiled widely. She grabbed his arm, and held it up.
Cheers burst, ringing through the crowds and echoing out over the vast field. She felt pride in the pit of her stomach as she held his sweaty wrist that was limp with fatigue.
He had won, besting her, and in so doing, she had won.
They could fight. Now all saw their strength. It was undeniable.
“Thank you,” the boy said, rattled.
Karil merely smiled, bowing to him and turning, moving through the crowds. Men and women bowed low to her, as if seeing what she had done and thanking her. It was odd, surely, to see their queen fight alongside them, but that was where she belonged.
As she moved back to the command tent, Rydel joined her side.
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, lips quirking. “Well?”
Rydel looked to her unflinchingly. “Yes?”
“Can I say I told you so, or will your elf pride not allow it?”
“I can admit when I was wrong,” he said.
She laughed. “Then now would be the time.”
The stony elf gave a nod. “As always, you are impressive, my queen, and the boy had more fight than I was anticipating. Perhaps there is more than meets the eye to this rabble. And I do not belittle them because I wish it, I simply fear the odds.”
“The odds have been stacked against us before,” Karil said, grabbing a kerchief from her pocket and dabbing sweat from her brow.
“That was different,” Rydel replied.
“How so?”
“The prophecy of The Knife’s Edge was a long shot, but it was not our battle. This is our fight, and I do not see a path of salvation, razor thin or not. This time, Karil, the odds are even worse.”
She growled, finally growing frustrated with him. “But how do you not see? This was the weakest of our group. If he can fight, then so can our army. Trust them, Rydel. Heart will be our key to victory.”
“And if heart does not kill a Terma? If heart is not enough to cut down thousands?” She knew his words did not come from a place of anger or derision towards her. He was simply a general seeing the layout of the battlefield with cold calculations. But that was not a battle—not all of it at least. Wars had been won and lost on strength of heart and mind alone.
“If the enemy thinks us soft and few, we will use that against them. We will hide easier, sift among their faceless masses effortlessly, and whittle them down one by one until they are few. If they think us poor and famished, we will use that, taking from nature, becoming the forest itself so they cannot find us with all the armies of Farhaven combined. And we will fight, my friend, with sticks and mud if we have to.”
“And when we fall?” he asked.
“Then we will rise again,” Karil replied turning to him and this time gripping his arm. Firmly. “Until there are none left,” she vowed. “I promise to break him, Rydel. Dryan will meet his end beneath my sword. Now do not argue with me again on this matter. Simply see it done.”
As if simply needing to hear her conviction, the elf gave a deep bow. “As you command.”
Just as he turned to leave, a messenger approached. Garbed in the green-black armor of the Lando, she saw a familiar face. Karil’s heart lifted. She held her breath in anticipation as he approached. This is what she had been waiting for. “My queen!” Temian called, approaching swiftly, weaving through the combatants. He was breathing hard, though his features were masked in characteristic Elvin impassivity.
Blond hair fell halfway down his back. The full elf appeared almost typical of the Elvin race. While Temian was not particularly high-ranking amid the Lando, he was perhaps her most loyal warrior. He had been there since the first day, and had even taken an interest in Gray before the young man had left the camp. She could talk to him of Gray, Ayva, and Darius, and he seemed equally intrigued. He believed, as she did, that those three were destined for much more.
He neared, coming to a halt.
“Temian, what news?”
“We have him, my queen.”
“Have who?” Rydel asked calmly.
“Where is he?” Karil said to Temian. Her heart pounded in excitement.
“In your command tent as you ordered, my queen,” Temian said swiftly. “But he is not alone. He is surrounded by fifty of the Lando, our very best.”
“Who?” Rydel asked again.
“A Terma,” Karil replied.
“You captured a Terma?” Rydel said, disbelieving.
“I told you I had other plans in motion, dear friend. I dared not involve you. It was risky, and I had a feeling you would advise against it,” she said and looked to Temian, putting voice to her true fear, “Did we lose any?”
“Two Lando.”
Karil’s heart clenched. “How?”
“They fell to the Terma before we had him in bindings,” Temian said sadly, looking down. “Despite sneaking up on him, the traitorous wretches are still as dangerous as a susa snake in the brush—Terma.” He said the word with such disdain. All her elves felt the same. She was sure if he were human he would have spat in disgust.
Karil let out a heavy breath. “They were brave warriors. We will honor their memory and give them the funeral rites of nobility.” It was a rare thing, but not unheard of, save for heroes of war. Suffice it to say, it hadn’t been done for hundreds of years.
Temian hesitated. “A true honor, my queen. Sadly, we could not retrieve their bodies. But it is not necessary, for all know the truth. It is spreading quickly. Their sacrifice was not in vain, their deaths are already seen as legendary, their lives remembered well.”
With difficulty, she summoned a smile. She was heartened by the elf’s words, but it was not enough. She knew hundreds more would die, but these were the first casualties of the war.
They could not ignore their sacrifices or see them as simply figures on a board, or they would be no better than Dryan. “Still,” she insisted, “we will see the pyre rights fulfilled. Gather anything you can in place of their bodies—tokens they held, their blades, anything treasured their families do not wish to keep, and prepare their souls to meet with the Eternal Spirit.
“We must let others see the price of victory, and what is at risk if we lose. And let them know that each life is valued dearly.”
Temian gave an unexpected, deep bow. “I will see it done. You are truly a blessing sent to us by the spirits themselves. Your father would be proud, just as we are.”
Karil warmed under the praise, but simply smiled. “Thank you, Temian. Now, see it done and meet me in my quarters afterwards, there’s much still to be done.” The elf bowed again, whisking away.
“How did you do it?” Rydel asked.
In the light of the morning sun, the cloaked elf was still a shadow, his grand Lando cloak shrouding his muscular frame and brushing the ground. But Rydel’s long dark hair was resplendent, his bright eyes filled with pride. “I shall tell you all,” Karil answered. “For now, come with me. The training of the others can wait. If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to have you there when I question this Terma.”
“You think I would be anywhere else?”
Again, Karil’s heart warmed and together they moved through the camps towards her tent, to discover the truth behind the Terma.
* * *
Karil’s tiredness fled as they approached her tent. Emblazoned upon the tent’s side was a glorious black leaf with gold embellishment. It was huge, two or three people in height at least. Two smaller ones were stitched upon the tent’s flap. It was the symbol of the Great Kingdom of Leaf, of Eldas.
Rydel touched her arm as they reached the entry. She understood, and let him go first. Two elves pulled back the tent’s flap, and Rydel moved with deadly intent inside the shaded tent.
She followed.
Inside was dark. After the bright sun, Karil felt blinded. As her eyes adjusted, she saw it was crowded. Dozens of elves bearing the armor of the Lando made the giant command tent seem small. Upon their breasts nearly all bore a piece of her father’s crown, a badge of rank and honor. Their swords were unsheathed and ready. They made a giant spiraling ring of armor, guarding a lone figure.
In the center, on his knees, was an elf with his head bowed, light illuminating his dark blond hair that touched and coiled upon the floor. He wore a simple green tunic and white pants, both torn to shreds. Karil saw the armor of a Terma stripped in a nearby pile—dark plates of black with faint gold vines. It made her shiver in memory. Most strikingly, a dozen sword tips rested against the captive elf’s neck.
The elf looked up upon her entrance. Karil froze. His expression. It was… full of sorrow. It confused her. She expected angry or stoic, but not this. Otherwise, he seemed utterly uncaring of the sharp blades upon his flesh. That didn’t surprise her. She did not think a hundred elves were overkill to guard a Terma either, even if they were her best warriors.
Rydel strode forward.
The forlorn eyes caught her guardian’s and the Terma stiffened, looking afraid, if such an elf could look fearful. “Hidden…” the elf breathed, and then remarkably pressed his head to the ground. “Brother! We thought you had all died. My name is Hadrian. Are you the last of your kind?”
Rydel looked baffled, obviously taken aback by the Terma’s voice, as if Hadrian were talking to an old friend, or a brother-in-arms.
“Are you certain you got the right one?” Karil asked a nearby elf captain, Lannor, the highest-ranking in the room aside from her and Rydel.
“Certain, my lady,” Lannor said sternly. “His armor is proof. If that were not enough, before we captured him, Sunvai and Leahwin fell to his blade. He moved like a Terma.”
So those were their names… she thought, storing them aside. Sunvai and Leahwin.
Hadrian spoke suddenly, “I… What do you mean? I killed two of your men?”
Karil shivered. “You… do not know?”
“It’s a ploy,” Rydel said, pulling her aside. “My instincts tell me there is something he is hiding.”
“And what kind of ploy would it be?” she asked in a whisper. “He knows we will not set him free.”
“Dryan is crafty. The Terma is simply a pawn covering for his master.”
“No, brother,” the Terma said. His hearing was remarkably good, even for an elf. “It was not me. Whoever did this, it was not me. I swear it.”
Karil spoke clearly. “You killed two of my men, traitor. If you believe your lies will save you, then you are sadly mistaken. Tell the truth or I will set Rydel upon you and pry it from you the hard way.”
Hadrian shook his head. “I swear on the Eternal Sp—”
Steel rung. Karil hadn’t seen Rydel cross the span, but his sword rested on the elf’s neck. But Hadrian didn’t look afraid, instead, his eyes looked pained. “Silence! Do not muddy the Eternal Spirit with your foul lies. Speak truth now or I will cut you down where you kneel,” Rydel seethed. “And know I am not so easily deceived.” The Terma’s eyes searched Rydel’s.
At last, Hadrian gazed to Lannor. “How? How did I do it?”
“With ease,” said Lannor darkly. “You had no mercy.”
Hadrian shook his head. “That does not sound like me.”
“Yet you smiled upon their deaths. I saw it myself.”
“I saw it too,” another elf said. “He grinned as he cut them down, as if reveling in killing his own kind, taking some kind of sick delight in it.”
Hadrian shook his head softly. “No… It cannot be…”
“He’s a monster,” Lannor said.
“Then, if what they say is true, perhaps I deserve death,” Hadrian voiced forlornly.
“And you will get it,” Karil declared, striding forward. The ring of elves surrounding Hadrian tensed, pressing swords tighter like a collar of steel barbs. Again, she knew it was not an unnecessary precaution, but she needed to see if he was evil, and she could only see that with bait. She motioned their swords back. She held his gaze. It was an unnerving green hue, but she made her silver gaze equally fearsome. This man had killed, had taken the lives of her men, and she knew it had been easy for him, possibly even enjoyable.
At last, Hadrian’s head fell. “Kill me, then, and be done with it.”
She unsheathed her dagger, put it to his chin and lifted his head. “Not yet. Not before you tell me everything. What do you remember of your capture?”
Hadrian looked away, as if trying to remember. “I remember… woods… I was on the border of the Relnas Forest, on a mission. It seemed an odd order, to scout in the Yurili Pass, for it is not secured by our forces, but I followed the order anyway.”
“Go on,” Karil pressed.
“I…” Hadrian’s eyes squeezed. “I had just moved into the valley when there was movement in the brush on my right. It seemed suspicious. And so I trailed around it, moving to a higher vantage spot… That was when the true trap was sprung. I saw it just before it happened.”
“Continue,” Karil said, feeling her anger rise, dagger pressing tighter.
Hadrian’s faced twisted, pained, but not by her dagger. “I remember green armor… Two elves in the bushes. I wanted to warn them to put down their weapons. I tried. I remember. I opened my mouth and…”
“And?” she questioned.
There was a long, heavy silence as sweat broke out on Hadrian’s skin. The elf grunted in pain and exertion.
“Tell me!” she commanded. “What happened next?”
He looked up, eyes bloodshot, shaking his head only slightly. “I can’t…”
Her anger was growing, but she was getting nowhere. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and Rydel pulled her even farther aside, speaking low enough to ensure he couldn’t hear. “I do not trust him.”
“I fear it is not so simple,” she replied. “His words
seem too true. There is something missing here, but I cannot put my finger on it. Either way, I do not believe we have seen the full Hadrian. We will have to question him further, but I don’t believe he’s going to tell us anything now. Luckily, he’s not going anywhere.”
“I don’t like it,” Rydel said. “He should not stay here, and you should not have brought him here.”
Karil looked to the elf captain, Lannor, gesturing him over. “Lannor, did you do as I said in full? Was he blindfolded?”
“All the way, my queen. He knows not where he is.”
“Good, then blindfold him again and take his hearing this time—I don’t care if you have to stuff wax in his ears or deafen him, but do not let him have any sense of where he is going.”
“Where shall I take him, my queen?” Lannor asked.
“I’ve had Temian prepare a tent that will suffice. It is on the eastern border of the camp. Take him there. Keep him bound and blindfolded, and set a guard of at least ten on him at all times.”
Lannor, dutiful to the core, simply clapped a fist to his heart and went to see it done.
Rydel’s teeth ground. “It is not enough.”
“We’ve enough bindings to shackle a stagfal,” she said. Stagfals were huge beasts, the size of a small dragon, moose-like in appearance, but bigger all around and with skin thick enough to deflect the keenest spear. “It will have to do, my friend.”
“And why do we not simply execute him? You said it best—he killed two of ours. He will not avoid justice.”
“I believe there’s much Hadrian has yet to tell us…” she said, meaning more than her words implied. “He is a mystery I seek to crack. Besides, his knowledge of Dryan’s forces alone—their movements, positions, and numbers—is vital if we seek to find a chink in their armor. You know as well as I, this elf is our first edge in this war, our best weapon yet. I cannot—no, I will not—throw it away. He is too important.”
“Even if he is lying?”
“He is not lying…”
“Believe me, this will not be the end of this elf,” Rydel said oddly. “There is something more to him.”