by Ronald Long
"The tracks end here," Elen said as they stood on the shores of the Barren Sea. She was looking down at the muddy banks, looking at the tracks that lead right into the water. "It's like they kept walking."
"If they chose to drown themselves then they are no longer our concern," Teresa said bitterly. She had grown weary of the pursuit.
"They may no longer be our greatest worry," Wisym said, turning from the group and looking back up river.
Before Teresa could react, Wisym was shouting orders.
"Everyone back in the forest! Under cover!"
Two hundred elves scrambled to return to the protective canopy behind them. Eren looked affronted at being commanded so, but followed at the beckoning of his sister. Teresa had not been close enough to ask Wisym why she had ordered them back, but knew the sound of her voice was serious. Once they were all back hidden among the trees, Teresa breathed once and then gasped at the sight that met her eyes.
Beautiful white ships came sailing from the mouth of the river and entered in to the greater sea.
Intricate designs and runes covered the hulls of each ship. Gold was inlaid into some of the carvings and beautiful purple flags and banners flew from each vessel. Teresa was in awe at the armada that sailed past her. Looking next to her she could see Wisym was just as impressed with the display and expected the rest of the Wood Walker's to be equally enamored with this new sight.
Instead of awe and wonder, however, Teresa saw eyes that were seething with hate. Knuckles whitened as many of the elves gripped their newly made spears. Several stomped their feet on the ground. Some muttered curses.
“Tell them to be quiet,” Teresa whispered as she looked around, bewildered.
"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Eren said as he looked at the ships with hatred in his eyes. "You marvel at the beauty of their ships, but you do not understand what it cost to make them. Your ignorance is expected, but not tolerated."
Teresa was beginning to feel agitated and uncomfortable. What could cause these normally peaceful elves who hated to make weapons to be so riled?
"Aboard those ships are noble elves," Elen explained with a cool head, though she said the word 'noble' with contempt. "Thousands of years ago, the elves on this land lived together in peace protecting the woods. But then, some began to chop down the trees and build cities. They forsook the life of the forest for their own gain. There was a great war between the two factions of kindred. The elves who built cities live in the south, draining the land of its resources. We live in the forest protecting what is left of it. The ships belong to the elves of Enoth. They are our mortal enemies. "
The last of the ships was now passing into the sea. Unlike the ones before it, the ship was black and carried the wind with yellow sails.
Teresa watched the fleet sale north.
"It looks like they are making for Lone Peak," she said.
"Lone Peak?" Eren said, his eyes still seething with hatred. "The human capital?"
He stomped his foot and turned to face away from the water. He stood for some long moments with his arms crossed and looking down at the dirt. At that moment, a scout came back from the other side of the river. He approached the group and bowed to Eren.
“The Wrents' tracks begin again about a half mile east of here! It looks like they are following the coastline!”
Eren nodded and waved the scout away, resuming his stare at the ground.
"Brother?" Elen said as she walked over to him. "What is it?"
Eren turned and looked at the elves gathered near the river.
Lifting up his hands he said, "The foxes travel north and so do the destroyers of our ancient homeland. What help will the elves of the woods have if our enemies form an alliance with the humans? Can we survive both the dogs and the destructive kin?”
He paused at this, examining the weight of his own words. Teresa could see his eyes calculating his next move.
“We must travel north as well and form a treaty with Darrion. If we do not, I fear for the future of our kind."
Chapter 22:
The Crew Returns
Once again, Ealrin found himself seething as he looked out past the walls of Lone Peak. Blume had left in a hurry and he hadn't been able to find out where she had gone.
All he had found was a stable boy who was swearing at mostly everything and blaming Blume for denying him his ride for the day.
Whatever apology he may have worked out in his mind was long forgotten as he watched the main road for signs of the runaway girl. He imagined her coming back with a sad expression, finally able to see reason and sorry for her outbursts and saying she was willing to stay a little closer to Lone Peak from now on.
Especially since she didn't even take Jargon with her this time. But, that was not what Ealrin saw coming over the hills towards Lone Peak.
He saw an army.
Marching up the road that lead all the way to the gates was an army brilliantly arrayed in purple and gold. They carried banners that had stars encircling a crown. At the front of the procession was a massive throne that was held aloft by no less than fifty elves. A lone elf wearing a crown sat upon the beautiful chair, banners flying all around it.
At least this army didn't appear to be marching to war.
Bells tolled behind him and Ealrin knew that those on the watch tower had seen the sight as well. The nobles of the city were bustling up the road, towards the castle of Lone Peak, having been told a huge procession was headed their way.
For a moment, Ealrin forgot his anger and was trying to figure out what he should do. Holve would want to know about this. He turned and intended to run back towards the library to tell him, only to find the older man making quick strides towards the gate, spear at his side.
“Peaceful,” Ealrin said, shouting down to Holve from his view on the gate.
Holve was by his side in just a few moments. He surveyed the lines of elves for himself for what felt like a long time before saying, “So far.”
Ealrin knew Holve to be distrusting of armies, but these elves had neither siege weapons nor battle formations among them. And if they planned to attack the city, it was quite foolish to have their king so exposed at the front of the line.
The procession stopped before they reached the gate and a loud trumpet sounded. Holve and Ealrin watched from on top of the wall as the noble houses of Darrion descended on the gates, each wearing their own colors and having their own livery flying behind them. The three house leaders and their attendants walked out of the gates and stood at attention.
“Where's Max?” Holve asked, peering down at the welcoming party from Darrion.
Ealrin looked as well and, instead of seeing the familiar face of the head elder of House Condor and ruler of Darrion, he saw a woman he didn't know dressed in white and blue: the colors of Condor.
A fine looking elf wearing a decorated helmet and a purple coat stood in front of the throne.
“We are the elves of the Empire of Enoth. We come to your fine country in peace.”
His voice was loud and strong. Ealrin thought this elf could be a great adviser, or a general, or even the King's brother. He held his head high and spoke with authority.
“His Excellency, the Emperor of Enoth, Rophilborn the Eternal, begs an alliance between his nation and the kingdom of Darrion. Let us bring inside your gates the gifts of our lands and the bounties we have there as a sign of our friendship.”
The nobles looked at each other for a moment, before the woman, dressed in white, stepped forward and spoke.
“We accept!”
“They'd be fools not to with an army at their gate,” Holve said under his breath.
Some of the elves, including the emperor, moved into Lone Peak while the rest began to set up a camp just outside the castle walls. As they began stepping off the main road, Ealrin could just barely make out a figure coming through them all on a white horse.
Blume looked uneasy, but unscathed.
“When I get my h
ands on that girl,” Ealrin said before flying off in the direction of the nearest stair.
He wasn't sure what he was going to do exactly, but he knew it would be memorable.
***
It was quite a while before Holve could stop the shouting match that took place between Blume and Ealrin. At some point in the argument, Ealrin distinctly remembered Blume saying she wants nothing more to do with him, Lone Peak, or anyone else in the world and Holve letting him know that being confined to their temporary home forever was not a viable option.
Blume had just about wore out every terrible word for Ealrin he was sure she had been holding onto for quite a while, when he realized a small crowd has gathered around them. The heat from his face began to subside as he looked around.
These faces weren't of elves or the dark-skinned people of Darrion.
These were familiar.
Ealrin stopped threatening Blume that she'd never ride horses again when he caught the look Tory gave him, shaking his head with both hands on his hips.
“You done acting like Blume's dad long enough to say hello?” he asked, nose high in the air. “I've never been so ignored!”
“Bah,” Gorplin said from behind the ax he was polishing. “I'd take lessons on ignoring you.”
Felicia stepped forward and gave a nod to Holve.
“Welcome back,” Holve said, returning the gesture and looking around at the crew. “All in one piece?”
“Barely,” Felicia replied. “We've got some stories to tell, and two prisoners to interrogate.”
“Prisoner?” asked Blume, all redness from her anger draining from her face. Ealrin thought the stories of the crew's adventure would abate her for a time.
With that, the current argument Blume and Ealrin had was dropped. He knew he'd have to bring it up again soon. He had to remind Blume that she couldn't just run off like that if he was to keep her safe.
For the time being, however, the crew that sailed away had returned and that was worth celebrating. Among the elves who came bustling in and the normal busy patrons of Lone Peak, they made their way back to the house they had claimed as their headquarters.
It was a difficult trek, as the city had come alive with people hanging out of doors, windows, shops and houses to get a glimpse of the newcomers. The first level of the city was buzzing with excitement.
Store owners threw open their doors at the prospect of new customers and children ran up and down the streets, staring unashamedly at the elves in brilliant armor.
The travelers from Ruyn weren't the main attraction, but getting through the crowd was difficult work. Lone Peak guards marched this way and that. Elves of Enoth were marching in columns down one street and then another.
Once they arrived at the first set of stairs that led to the lower levels of the city, things became easier.
Ealrin couldn't help but notice, however, that while he walked towards the front of the line of his friends, Blume hung back at the end, brought along by Jurrin and Jurgon.
Blume seemed to be happily engaged in conversation with the polite halfling as he was retelling of their travels to Jurgon. She caught his eye, however, and immediately acquired a very sour look. She turned her attention back to the pair walking with her and attempted a smile, but her brow did not release its furrow.
He turned back towards the front and listened to the chatter of the party.
“Can't sleep a wink with a dwarf,” Tory was saying. He looked at Ealrin expectantly.
Apparently he had been talking to him.
“Still snores as bad as you?” Ealrin recovered in time to say.
“Worse!” Tory said, starting to laugh before catching the jest. “Hey!”
He punched Ealrin lightly on the shoulder.
“Though, between you and me,” he said in a whisper. “I'll be glad to get away from Felicia for a moment. She's a slave driver!”
Urt growled at them from behind. Tory straightened up and quickened his pace.
A small smile crossed Ealrin's face.
He had missed these companions.
Felicia and Holve were talking in low tones in the front of the line and Gorplin strode next to Urt.
Both received quite a few stares from passersby.
Ealrin couldn't help glancing over his shoulder every few turns, however.
Every time he did, he saw Blume trailing along with the rest of them.
He didn't think she'd try to run off just yet, but he couldn't help looking back just to make sure she was there.
They had an argument to finish.
Chapter 23:
Elven Prisoner
The crew settled as comfortably as they could into the packed living room of their host family's house.
It wasn't that the Brewers' accommodations were necessarily small, but more the fact that there were so many of them in the space. Tory and Gorplin fought over a small couch in the corner, while Ealrin and Holve settled themselves at a small table with two chairs that was pushed against a wall. Felicia propped herself up against the wall and Urt sat cross-legged on top of a coffee crate. Jurgon and Jurrin were rapidly catching up with one another as they sat down on a rug. They had been separated for the longest period in their entire lives.
Blume went off to help out with the baby, who was crying for one reason or another, and was upstairs with the Mrs. Brewer.
The house was mostly stone, the most available resource in the area, with a few wood furnishings here and there. The couch was the only soft piece of furniture in the entire room. Even though it was ancient and threadbare, Tory and Gorplin swore there was no other more comfortable place to sit.
Everyone had a steaming a mug of coffee out in front of them and the aroma filled the room.
Ealrin was glad for the drink. Lily, the Brewer's baby, had been up late again last night. He was low on sleep. The gathering was cheering him up, however. No matter how cramped the house got, he was glad to have these companions back.
A single window was open, letting in the early afternoon light as Holve cleared his throat, calling for order.
"I take it you found something worth telling about," he said, looking over at Felicia and taking a sip from his steaming mug.
"Yeah, but it took two months," Tory interjected, drawing a glare from Holve that shut him up.
"Aye," Felicia said with a look of annoyance on her face. "Tory is right. It did take several months for us to find anything of interest. We didn't uncover any stories or local legends about trees or anything that came even close to a tree. Lots of stories about sailing and the three Nobles of Darrion."
She sniffed the contents of her mug and turned up her nose at it.
"They have any sugar?" she asked.
Jurrin hurried up off the rug to go and fetch her some.
"A week ago we were sailing up to Bestone and found it near burned to the ground. We didn't even have time to get a good look at the place before pirates attacked us. We made it out of there by the skin of our teeth and took two with us as prisoners. One of them got sick right afterwards. His fever took him and there wasn't a thing we could have done to help. Probably did more than his old buddies would have, at least."
Holve looked at her inquisitively.
"The city was burned?" he asked.
"That's not the strangest part," Felicia said, accepting the spoon and container of sugar from Jurrin and adding some to her mug. "Whoever did it didn't bother to take a single thing from the city. It looked like they just came to burn the place down and left all the loot."
"Have you reported any of this to the nobles?" Holve asked.
Ealrin knew that Holve had wanted to keep as good of a relationship with the nobles of Darrion as they could by informing them of this.
"Sent a message on to them as soon as we got to port," Felicia said, taking a sip of her coffee and, by the look on her face, appreciating the new sweetness.
"Looked like they were pretty busy, though. They might not get our message for some t
ime," she said as she smacked her lips. "The port's filled to the brim with those ships. Where are they from?"
"Down south," Holve answered. "Elves from the Empire of Enoth. According to the books in the library, they're the oldest nation on Irradan and take up a considerable part of the southern continent."
"Bah," Gorplin said, gnawing on some hard bread. "Seem like a bunch of pampered brats to my eyes."
Holve ignored him.
"I'll make sure the message gets through. Now what about these pirates?"
"Urt here tried to get as much information as we could from the remaining prisoner," Felicia said, pointing over to her first mate.
Holve looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.
The Skrilx just shook his head.
"Apparently he's not willing to talk," Felicia added.
Ealrin sat back in his chair and sipped on his coffee.
Pirates in the waters to the east. A city burned to the ground but not looted. Elves from the south make an appearance in Darrion. Wrents outside the city gates.
It seemed like the continent of Irradan was beginning to offer up more questions than answers.
Before anyone else could add to the conversation, a herald was heard in the streets. This wasn't terribly unusual. Since Lone Peak was a city of so many levels, it was hard for news to travel from the House of Nobles down to the lower parts. Professional heralds would walk the streets, clad in the traditional colors of the leading noble house and give their message at several intervals.
Ealrin lifted himself up out of his chair and went to the window to listen.
“Hear ye, capital of Darrion! On the first day of the week, two hours before midday, a speech will be made in the amphitheater by His Excellency, Rophilborn the Eternal, Emperor of Enoth. Attendance is mandatory for all citizens! Hear ye, capital of Darrion!”
A speech from the Emperor himself?
Ealrin wondered what that might be about.
The herald's voice floated in through the open window repeating the message over and over again with the date and time of the speech before fading into the general sounds of a normal day in the lower levels.