by Ember Lane
20
Thremjin
Glenwyth’s dreams were getting worse. She’d gone from snuggling into him, whimpering and moaning, to screaming his cottage down, her wails blanketing the vale with her torment. Lincoln lay awake all night, hugging her close, and brushing her fine hair away from her sweaty brow. He yearned for morning, and for the end of her suffering. So he welcomed dawn’s amber rays when they sprayed across the vale, and he slid away from her as her nightmares appeared to flee with the kiss of the rising sun.
He pulled his front door open, ready to welcome the new day, and Elleren’s unconscious body slumped in. Jumping back, Lincoln looked down, confused, and Elleren opened her eyes and grinned. “Morning,” she said.
“Err, morning?” Lincoln scratched his head. “What…why…where?”
“You have to do something about her,” Elleren said, still grinning. “Surely you can’t stand by and watch her suffer?”
“I…” Lincoln scratched his head again, but it didn’t rid him of his confusion. “I don’t know what to do.”
She sat up, spun around and crossed her legs. “But I told you.”
“Go see Forgarth’s brother, yes, I remember. The trouble is, I don’t know where to find him.”
“Well, that’s easy.” And Elleren sprung up. “You see, Forgarth’s brother is not like Forgarth at all, so you’ll find him where you’d never find Forgarth. So that’s where you should look.”
Lincoln made to scratch his head, but as it hadn’t helped either of the other times, he didn’t bother. “Can you look after her for a while?”
“Sure,” Elleren replied. “Are you going to see him?”
“Let’s say yes.”
“Good luck then.” Elleren skipped past him, shoved him out of the door and slammed it shut. Lincoln stood just outside of his cottage and wondered what the hell had just happened. He kneeled by the lake and splashed a whole load of water over his head, but when that wasn’t enough, he plunged his whole upper body in the lake, then shook out his wet hair and thought he’d start the day again.
Deciding to check out the peace and tranquility of the academy, he ambled along toward the woods. Something about the place had calmed him yesterday, and after the broken sleep of the past night, its solace was a thing he yearned for. Once he was within its peaceful walls, he sat in its center on its reed-strewn floor, just by the low table. Though he’d never been one for meditation, Lincoln closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind.
He really wanted to help Glenwyth, but Elleren’s advice was next to useless to him. To solve the conundrum of where Forgarth wouldn’t go, he’d have to get to know the elder elf, and even after that, surely there would be a multitude of places Forgarth wouldn’t venture?
Opening his tired eyes, he saw two pieces of paper on the table.
“Bethe?” he said.
“Lincoln.”
“Research?”
“Farming and Lumbering, level 2. You need to upgrade the academy to research, quarrying, or mining.”
Lincoln nodded. “Do I have enough gold for these?”
“Yes.”
He took the first. It showed a picture of a trunk and three stone wedges. The three wedges were then shown partly hammered into the trunk, and then there was a final one showing the trunk split in two.
Congratulations! You have advanced your lumber research to level 2.
Picking up the next piece of paper, he grunted as it taught him the finer points of composting. Again, a prompt came up and told him he’d advanced to level 2 farming.
“And that gives me?” he asked Bethe.
“A twenty percent increase in production.”
“Then we must upgrade, if we can afford to carry on. Twenty percent would be a welcome boost for our iron and stone production, especially in Sanctuary.”
“You will get gold reward bonuses for everything researched to level 1, so with a bit of…”
“Cheating?” Lincoln smiled. Was Bethe learning?
“Cheating, yes, you can level up your mining and quarrying, but you will need a source of income eventually.”
“Agreed,” he said.
“What are today’s tasks?”
Lincoln pulled up his city menu.
“So, we’re still light on resources in Sanctuary. Let’s go with two level 2 iron mines and two level 2 quarries. You’ll have to stagger them until the extra iron gets there. That’s gonna have to do today. Joan’s Creek, I think, feasting hall, marketplace, academy level 2, three sawmills to level 3, two quarries to level 2 and all five mines to level 3. We’ll put a marketplace in Sanctuary first thing tomorrow and then we can start shifting resources to it easily.”
“All instructed,” Bethe said.
“How’s the ridge work going?”
“Around thirty percent complete, certainly much more passable.”
A slow clap rang out, followed by a haunting laugh, and at first, Lincoln was plunged back into confusion. He glanced around, searching out its source. The sound seemed to be bouncing around the open-plan room, yet Lincoln knew that was not possible.
He jumped up, hovering his hand over his sack and pulling his staff out.
“Oh,” a voice called, “you want to play. All right.”
A figure appeared at the edge of the reed floor. Lincoln instantly knew it was Forgarth’s brother. He looked like a cross between an elf and a gnome. An elf, in as much as he had all the traits: he was around five and a half feet tall, and his face had that pointed look that they all had. It lent him that air of mysticism. Yet he looked devious too, and had the air of mischief a gnome held so well. Even his clothes would have been similar to an elf's had his not been a gray-brown-scarlet look instead of the fresh, green, vitality-filled look of those worn by the elves of Forgarth’s village. He drew his own staff.
“We’ll battle it out,” he said, jumping in front of Lincoln, and squaring up to him. Lincoln raised his own staff. They began circling.
“Who are you?” Lincoln asked.
“You know who I am,” the elf said, and his staff blurred.
Lincoln squealed as a sharp smack made the back of his knees fold, and he dropped to the floor. Another crash across his back saw him eating reeds.
Damage! You have sustained 9 damage.
Lincoln waited for the next blow, but just felt a foot stamp down on his back.
“That the best you’ve got? Glenwyth’s lover, felled in two moves. Them elves...” And then he took his boot off Lincoln’s back. “Them elves have got low standards.”
Lincoln felt the elf grab his shirt, and then felt himself being pulled off the ground and stood up. “Shall we try again? Thremjin, by the way. That’s what they call me—Thremjin. But most just call me Jin.” He spun Lincoln around and bent to retrieve Lincoln’s staff for him.
As Jin bent, Lincoln brought his knee up into the elf’s face and smashed his hands down onto the elf’s bent back. Jin’s head snapped up. The elf grunted and sagged, but quickly recovered and flipped backward, somersaulted, and landed on his feet a few yards away.
“Nice work…for a builder,” Thremjin said, and bowed low.
Lincoln kicked out again, but the elf was faster, sidestepping out of the way and catching Lincoln’s outstretched foot, pushing it up into the air and sweeping Lincoln off his feet. For a moment, Lincoln’s body seemed to hover in midair, until it fell, crashing to the floor. Lincoln felt his back arch in pain as it snapped around Thremjin’s outstretched staff. The elf slid it out from under him.
Damage! You have sustained 12 damage points.
“Lesson one. The difference between a light elf and a dark elf is that a dark elf goes that extra yard just to cause a bit more pain.” Thremjin leaned over a very winded Lincoln. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” He grinned from pointy ear to pointy ear.
Lincoln gasped for air. Thremjin offered his hand. Lincoln took it and Thremjin pulled him up, only to punch him square in the face. Lincoln fell back to the floor, his no
se exploding in a burst of blood and pain.
“Lesson two. Light elves play fair… Do I need to finish the sentence?”
Damage! You have sustained 11 damage points.
Thremjin walked up to Lincoln and gave him a playful kick. “You getting all this? Is it all sinking in?” And then he spun and walked away.
Glancing to his side, Lincoln saw his staff lying close. He rolled and grabbed it and swung it low at the elf's ankles. Crack! The staff connected, and Thremjin buckled in a heap. Lincoln pushed himself to his knees and raised his staff, bringing it down on the elf. Thremjin jerked and fell backward. Lincoln collapsed next to him.
Danger! Your energy is getting low. You have 50/100 left. Rest and food will restore it.
“Nice move,” Thremjin said through gritted teeth, still on his back.
“Thanks,” said Lincoln, lying beside him. He breathed hard until his heart calmed a bit. Blood flooded from his nose. “I think you broke my nose.”
Thremjin scoffed. “I think you cracked my head.”
“So what do I need to do?”
“Do?”
“To help Glenwyth.”
“You mean you care?” Thremjin’s voice was incredulous. “I thought you were just using her for…you know.”
“Nope and nope. I do care, and we aren’t lovers.”
“Ohhhh, well, in that case, I’d best stop beating on you.”
“I’d have said it was a draw.”
Thremjin pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Well, you’d have been wrong. I gave you that last one.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Meh!” Thremjin said, and he jumped up. “We can call it a draw if you want.”
“Why? Are we done?”
“Well, if you actually care for her, then I have no quarrel with you. She’ll need all the help she can get.”
“I kinda guessed. So, what am I supposed to do?”
Thremjin offered Lincoln his hand. When Lincoln hesitated, Thremjin smiled. “You’ll have to trust me…eventually,” he said, as Lincoln took his hand and the elf pulled him up. “Come on, I’m guessing you haven’t had breakfast yet. You do have something other than ale for breakfast now and again, don’t you?” He turned and walked out the back of the academy and into the forest behind. “You know, you’ve visited the other valley. You’ve visited the mountains, but you haven’t bothered walking through these little beauties. Is it because you’re ashamed?”
Lincoln stopped in his tracks, and Thremjin laughed. “Ha!” he cried, “it is that, isn’t it. Well, don’t be. The elves’ll make sure that the balance isn’t disturbed. It’s what elves do, until they turn dark, then…not so much.”
“I just don’t like destroying.”
“Ha!” Thremjin laughed again. “Of course you do. You just don’t admit that to yourself. No, the dark side of life is definitely the more honest.”
The forest’s brilliant green was quite dazzling. It was full of big, oak-like trees with vast canopies of fat leaves, and trunks laden with hefty bark, almost like armor. But the forest wasn’t stifling—quite the opposite. The ground was teeming with shooting bluebells, lush-leafed ferns, patches of hollow-filled grass, and tangles of brambles. Lincoln followed Thremjin through it as he picked his way deeper in.
They came to a series a rocky shelves, patchy with emerald moss and climbed up them one at a time reaching a stone plateau. The morning sun shone through the forest’s canopy, edging the open space. “See this? This is where you should have built your academy. Deep in the forest, if a little patch of forest like this can have a deep. Look, see that rocky ledge over there?”
Lincoln followed his pointing finger. From the plateau, another pile of rocky shelves stacked up, like a bunch of higgledy-piggledy plates. In its center was a dark, oval entrance. “Ever wonder why this vale is so deserted? I mean, it is. A place this idyllic should be teeming with all kinds of life. Hell, it should be packed with so much that humans should have come along years ago and destroyed it. You have to ask yourself why, and when you do, that there is the answer.” He pointed at the hole.
“What lives in it?”
“Nope, wrong question.” Thremjin sat on the flat rock and pulled out a small, white pipe from a sack strapped to his side. “I hear you have leaf.”
“Yup,” said Lincoln, wiping the blood from his nose with his sleeve and then searching out his own pipe. He sat, primed his pot and then tossed a pack of leaf to the elf. “So, what’s the right question?”
“What lived there?” Thremjin said, lighting his pipe. “And the answer to that is a bastard. Have you ever come across a troll?”
“I had the pleasure of having my height reduced significantly by a troll hammer once.”
Thremjin winced and then scoffed. “Ain’t that the beauty of not being able to die properly? What happened?”
“Let’s just say that I reappeared quite fortuitously just behind her, while she was still eating my own entrails.”
Thremjin raised his eyebrows in surprise and let out a short burst of laughter. “Neat trick,” he said. “Anyway, your troll…”
“Esmeralda.”
“Esmeralda. I’ll bet she was a fair-sized lump with foul breath, an equally rotten temper and a pin for a head.”
Lincoln grunted a laugh. “And you’d be about right.”
“Well, take your Esmeralda, add another foot or two, both in height and width, pop a good-sized head on it and treble the temper. Then you have your common ogre, and ogres are plain mean, and one lived in there.” Thremjin pointed at the hole. “You want to know what changes a light elf into a dark elf? For Glenwyth, it was wanting to taste your death. For me, it was him.” He stabbed a finger at the hole again. “In the end, it doesn’t matter what triggers it, because the pain’s the same.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. What causes the pain?”
“For that, you’ve got to understand the elf. While it’s not all fluffy clouds and skipping unicorns, it ain’t far away. Take the tree blight, for instance. What did my revered brother do? Did he set about working out why? Or did he just while away the day being mystical and watching his tree die and him with it.”
Thremjin laughed, but it was bittersweet mirth. Lincoln watched as the elf squirmed a little at his thoughts. He didn’t appear particularly older or younger than his brother. But while Forgarth had appeared fragile, Thremjin was clearly more robust, but had regret etched in lines that radiated from the corner of his eyes and on the edge of his smile.
“Let me tell you,” Thremjin continued. “The elves—their days are numbered on this land. Glenwyth might survive. I will survive. The elves here? No. Not like they are. Either you will drive them out or someone will come along after.”
“What makes you say that?”
Thremjin shook his head. “Not you too? Don’t tell me you’re thinking you can live here unhindered.” He jumped up. “Only once you’ve truly felt this land for what it is, only then can you understand.” Arms aloft, Thremjin spun around and around. “It’s all going to burn!” he shouted, and then slowed until he was face-to-face with Lincoln again. “It’s all going to burn, Lincoln the Builder, and those who don’t fight will die. I can feel it, and unless the elves light the fire of anger in their hearts, then elves will be no more.”
“And that’s what pains Glenwyth?”
“Don’t you see it? She’s watched the night drawn in. Truth, Lincoln, she’s seen the truth. Glenwyth has witnessed the slaughter of her kin, and she can’t do anything about it.”
“She can’t, but I can,” Lincoln said grimly, but he felt anything but grim. He suddenly felt alive. Thremjin had just given him his course. He would galvanize the elves, and make them fight. “Will they listen to you?”
Thremjin pulled Lincoln up and led him to the ogre’s cave. As they crossed its threshold, Lincoln’s night vision kicked in, but a line of evenly spaced torches soon burst into light. Before him, a short tunnel widened and there s
at a bed, a table, and a stool. “My simple home,” he said. “It was here I tasted the gore of true battle, and here I now live to remind me of it every day. That misted rage where you just keep stabbing, and stabbing, and stabbing until you’re head to toe in crimson—I welcome it. When I came out having fought the beast, they looked at me, Lincoln; they looked at me like I was a demon—like I was Balazar, or Quazede, or Alastor. I disgusted them, Lincoln, the same damn elves that I’d just saved.” He jumped onto the bed, “Tell me, how can you save those who look down on their saviors?”
“It looks pretty bleak,” Lincoln admitted, sitting on the small stool. “If not you, then can I?”
Thremjin shook his head. “That’s just it. Gotta be Glenwyth, and it’s gotta be quick. Once that damn tree’s thriving again, they’ll go all passive, and peaceful, and mystical. Do you want to meet them? The elves that just let you walk into their vale? Tree elves? They’re the worst.”
“Please.”
Thremjin popped his thumb and forefinger between his lips and let out a shrill whistle. “There, they should gather outside. Say, can I use that inn you’ve got? Gotta say, my heart nearly leapt to the light side when I saw it getting built, and haven’t you made a good job of the fields out back?” He scratched his chin, and crossed and then uncrossed his legs a few times. “We could always keep getting them drunk. A few fights and the dark side should be easy to coax out.” He jumped up. “They should be outside by now. Meek lot—do exactly what they’re told.”
Lincoln followed him back out. Sure enough, a group of around fifty elves had gathered. They were all standing on the stone plateau, looking down at their boots. Not one made eye contact with Lincoln. Thremjin marched straight up to them.
“This, this is the man called Lincoln the Builder. It is he who has seized your lands without asking. It is he who tears down your trees and steals your stone.” Thremjin drew a knife and held it out on the flat of his palm. “Who’s going to kill him?” he asked.