by Jim Galford
The halfling tried to shout something, but the gag muffled it nicely.
“…and had me whipped once and beaten often, for no reason.”
This time, Corth gave a somewhat agreeing mutter.
“One of the other prisoners escaped at the same time we did,” she continued, opting to leave out the part where they had helped him. “He captured Corth and then fled, so we had no choice but to bring Corth the rest of the way. I…we…thought you might have a better idea what to do with him. I have done nothing more than get into a fight with a few soldiers, which I’ve already served more time in prison for than the law requires.”
Without any indication she was going to do it, Asha reached past Ilarra and grabbed Raeln by one of his pointed ears. She dragged him away by the ear while he just barely managed to maintain a hold on Corth.
Once the others had gone, her father turned back to Ilarra, his face clearly saddened.
“I am not happy to hear of what you went through,” he told her, motioning broadly for her to enter the library, where they lived on the upper floor. “We will do what we can to smooth this out with the halfling and send him on his way. It will not be easy, I am sure. What I do need to know is where the other prisoner escaped to, so that I can answer honestly if the king’s men come this far looking for answers. Giving that one up might appease some in Lantonne, even if the small man wishes to see you hang.”
They went into the large building, making their way toward the stairs that led up to their family’s portion of the structure. As they went, Ilarra saw Asha through one of the rear windows in the snowy fields beyond, glaring at Raeln, whose head hung in shame.
Ilarra had always wondered how the bonded wildlings managed to communicate as well as the elves they served without voices, but they certainly could, given what she saw Raeln going through. She had seen that situation a few hundred times as they had grown up, often when he had taken the blame for something she had done. Just seeing him hanging his head like that made Ilarra feel guilty, even though she knew there was little she could have done differently. Though she had never caught Raeln or Asha speaking, she wondered if perhaps they would talk when they were not near their bonded, as the oath was nothing that prevented them from speaking, just a rule for them to follow.
Thinking back over the last month and more, Ilarra refused to let herself believe she had made a mistake. To have let the wildling near the quarry die would have spared her from the dungeon but cost her any self-respect she possessed. That was just not who she was, and letting that death mar her conscience would have haunted her for the rest of her life. Raeln might have been the one more concerned about following the letter of law, but she never could have looked him in the eye again if she had stood by and let the wildling and his children die.
Wishing Raeln all the luck in the world in dealing with his mother, Ilarra followed her father upstairs, where most of the village’s hunters and warriors were already gathered, surprising her. A dozen strong elven and wildling men stared at her as she stopped at the top step.
“We were having a meeting about the war when your wagon arrived,” her father explained, pointing out one of several empty seats. “Given where you came from and what you told me, I feel you should share with the others.”
Put on the spot by men that ranged from her own age to her father’s, Ilarra nervously cleared her throat and took her time sitting down, hoping to find some courage in the meantime. That did not happen, and when she looked up, the men were still staring expectantly.
“I…we…Raeln and I were leaving Lantonne when Altis’ army arrived. They had thousands of undead and no more than fifty living soldiers leading them.”
“Were they driven back?” asked one of the hunters.
An older wolf with a deep scar across his face added, “You did not say just how many. Two thousand or fifty thousand. The numbers make a difference to cities larger than ours. A hundred can take us down, but knowing whether the cities need us to go to their aid is a big deal, girl.”
A few other questions were asked, but her father asked the men to be silent and give her time to answer.
“Ten, maybe fifteen thousand if I had to guess,” she admitted, not really sure how to estimate numbers as large as what they had seen briefly before taking shelter. “Lantonne used the largest golems I’ve ever seen to fight them. They looked like giant dwarves…”
“War golems,” cut in her father softly. “Likely borrowed from the dwarves at great expense. Nothing can stand up to them. If those are involved, the war between the cities is already over.”
Ilarra shook her head, making most of the men glare at her. “While I was in jail,” she started, wincing as the glares deepened, “I overheard that the Altisians managed to destroy one of the golems and cripple three more. The explosion killed hundreds of soldiers on the plains and in some underground passage between the northern quarry and the city itself. The king’s having those that were captured executed, but the others in the prison said that the undead army mostly got away.”
Grumbling discussion of whether she was lying or incompetent filled the room, making Ilarra wish yet again that she was anywhere else. Her father patted her hand reassuringly, but it did little to make her feel better.
Finally, the men quieted down and one of the older wildlings announced, “The girl may not have any idea what she saw out there, but I’m willing to believe Altis has a large army. Our scouts estimate the force that came south across the plains was at least two thousand, so I’ll bet on four or five thousand in the whole army. It’s more than we can hold back if they came this way, but Altis has never taken interest in this part of Lantonne’s lands. We’ll do what we’ve always done…stay out of matters best left to kings. Close the paths into the woods and turn away merchants. We will stay hidden until this blows over.”
A rumble of agreement went through the room, after which the hunters and warriors got up and left without a word to Ilarra or her father. The decision was made and discussing it further was pointless. It was how all matters of war were handled in Hyeth. The few warriors the village had were far more concerned with raiding parties from the east than with an army that had nothing to gain by coming into the wooded part of the northern plains.
Once the last man had left, Ilarra started to rise as well, but her father caught her by the shoulder and sat her back down.
“Ilarra,” he started, leaning forward in his seat, “I sent you to Lantonne to give you a better life than you could find here. You returned empty-handed and hunted. Tradition leaves me little room for choice with regards to your future.”
Ilarra winced at the implications. Her father had attempted to get her an education…among the elves, abandoning a task meant that you were likely unsuited to trying further. There would be no more learning of magic or another trip to Lantonne. She had known that it was coming, but hoped her father would give her more time before breaking the bad news. Worse yet, since she had failed at what she wanted to do with her life, it was now her father’s choice as to what profession she would take up for the betterment of the village.
“I’ve had plans ready in case of something like this, though I had hoped I would never need to act on them,” he went on, getting up as he spoke and walking to a cabinet at the far end of the room. From a drawer, he pulled out a sheaf of paper and checked it before turning back to Ilarra.
“One of the warrior families from the northern farmlands has been looking for help,” he continued, rolling back up the paper as he sat down. “Namely, they have a wildling girl that is bonded to one of their warriors. She has taken to combat the same way their son has, which poses a problem. Normally, we would want her to have skills that differ and complement his, but she has shown no interest in learning another trade. The family has tried to offer her alternatives, but she has been stubborn to say the least.”
“Father, what does that have to do with me? I won’t be able to convince her.”
“Nothing at all. Th
ey have asked if I can find a way to keep the girl from causing more trouble than they can manage. As you can imagine, having a son and daughter both seeking glory in combat is unsettling to them and they wish to give the girl a reason to be more careful, as she has a penchant for getting into battles that her bonded brother knows better than to face. As such, they wish a husband for her. Asha agreed that it was a good choice for him. She cannot force the matter, but given the situation, I believe she will apply more pressure than would be normal. I certainly don’t wish to argue with her.”
Ilarra laughed lightly as she realized her father meant Raeln…then the mirth choked her as she thought the consequences through. Bonded pairs were always of opposite gender and if one married, the other did too by tradition if not by rule. They generally chose their partners carefully for that reason, since it was four lives being affected, rather than two.
“Wait…no!” she exclaimed, her skin suddenly clammy. “Father, I can find another trade. Please don’t push me to marry. I know you can suggest suitors by tradition, but please let me find my own way. Let me find a trade so Raeln isn’t forced into this.”
Her father smiled and patted the paper on the palm of his hand.
“Then do so, child,” he advised. “I will be introducing Raeln to his potential wife within the next week, when the family agrees to the meeting. If you want to avoid the gentle prodding of Asha, then you have that long to find a reason to be unsuitable for marriage at this time. Do we understand one another, Ilarra? In a week, this is entirely in Asha’s hands. She can’t make you do anything, but I can’t make her stop trying. She wants grandchildren and Raeln isn’t helping his case with this incident. Whether you wiggle your way out of this or find a better match, I don’t honestly care.”
“Yes, father.”
“Good.” He stood and patted her leg as he walked toward the desk where he normally studied. “It’s good to have you home.”
*
Over the next week, the village became Ilarra’s home once again. She settled into the daily routine with a new determination in the hopes that one of the people would offer to take her on as an apprentice for just about anything. She had helped the clothing-makers and launderers, the farmers, and even spent a day assisting several stable hands mucking stalls. None had offered to take her on to learn a trade, essentially sealing her fate. She was her father’s problem and that meant that he and Asha could “suggest” she visit the potential suitor.
The rules were simple. If Raeln agreed to marry, she would have to marry by proxy. Should she find a purpose in life, such as a profession, Raeln would be free as well. It created a drive in her that she knew was new, but she had no time to really contemplate it.
Ilarra had not found the heart to tell Raeln of her conversation with her father, nor had he asked, unsurprisingly. The topic had been avoided, and Raeln had grunted and walked away the one time Ilarra had inquired about what his mother had said to him. Given his reaction, she doubted it was much different from what her own father had said.
Twice during the week, Ilarra had checked in on Corth. The first time, he had sworn at her and tried to go after Ilarra by scrambling over the hunter that had been assigned to watch him. The next day the halfling was gone, sent back to Lantonne by her father. While her father had hoped that releasing him would save Hyeth from the king’s anger, Ilarra worried it ensured that, sooner or later, Corth would manage to have troops sent to arrest her. At least she knew the timeline now, giving her no less than three weeks before the first soldier could arrive at her doorstep. With a threat of marriage laid out before her, three weeks was an eternity.
On the seventh day, Ilarra practically ran across the village, ignoring the sting of sharp stones that bit into the soft soles of the boots Raeln had stolen for her and the snow that rolled over the tops and down to her feet. She made her way from the main well to a baker on the east end of the village. She had been carrying and fetching all morning and her hair was matted flat from sweat even in the bitter cold, but she could not bring herself to stop. If she just managed to convince him of her dedication…
“Ilarra!” called out her father’s voice, somewhere behind her.
Sliding to a stop and nearly spilling the two buckets of water that she was carrying on a pole across her shoulders overtop of her cloak, Ilarra fought back tears and struggled to find the strength to turn around. She took long deep breaths, trying to calm herself, only to see Raeln coming over from a wooded area with Asha behind him, more or less herding him in Ilarra’s direction.
Raeln looked confused, which made Ilarra feel even more sick. It was hard enough to think that she was being put through this, but having Raeln surprised by it was a betrayal Ilarra had hoped to avoid. She just could not find the strength to tell him. Given that it was his decision that would trap her, she knew she should have talked with him long before it got to this point.
“It’s time,” Ilarra’s father told her as Raeln stepped up alongside her, rubbing his shoulder where his mother had repeatedly poked him with a claw to keep him moving. “Have you two talked at all?”
Brows sinking in realization that his sister had more information than he did, Raeln stared at Ilarra. He clearly had no idea what was coming, but he was going to be mad at her for a while.
“No matter,” her father said, patting Raeln’s arm. “We’re going to meet some of the farmers at the edge of the village lands. Nice people. I think you’ll like them.”
Raeln’s eyes narrowed farther. He knew a trap and his body language told Ilarra that was exactly how he was treating this.
Asha led the way out from the middle of the village, occasionally giving Raeln an even-tempered stare that made him hurry up. Despite being two feet shorter than her son, there was no doubt that Asha was still able to give Raeln any orders she wished without any question from him at all. The whole way, Raeln kept his head low as he followed right beside her.
By contrast, Ilarra was looking all around for somewhere to run. She knew Raeln would track her down if she did take off, but she could not help herself. She had no desire to be married off and knew that Raeln was equally averse to the idea. Ilarra could certainly refuse the “suggestion,” but if Raeln was bullied into it by his mother, Ilarra would be expected to marry the brother of Raeln’s spouse sooner or later. She could probably buy herself a few years, but the questions about when and not if she would marry would eventually be too much. The whole thing was demeaning and Ilarra wanted to cry, run, and vomit…maybe all three.
The group passed through the sparse woods, following one of many paths through the snow that came and went from the village. All such paths went to the various farmsteads in the area, though given how little traveling the villagers did even between the center of the village and the farms, the paths were easy to lose. Only the fact that it had not snowed recently allowed her to see the direction they were going by watching the footprints of whoever had passed through last.
They eventually came out to another area where the trees thinned and mostly ended at the edge of the plains. Long rows of corn grew between them and a small farmhouse, where Ilarra could distantly see someone waiting for them.
Farms like this one were some of the most difficult to maintain and were largely abandoned in favor of ones farther into the trees, where raiders would have to look for them. Out here on the plains, a farm was an easy target, so anyone living on one was generally trained to fight for their lives or assist those who could.
The location certainly explained the situation her father had explained, as any children of the family—wildling or elven—would want to be able to defend themselves and their family. Both children wanting to be warriors would be a natural desire if they had the inclination to fight for their family’s safety.
From the house, an older elven woman began walking in their direction. The woman was stocky, likely having worked her own farm for decades.
“Greetings, elder,” the woman announced as they neared, walki
ng up to Ilarra’s father and clasping his forearm. “I trust the journey was uneventful?”
“It was, in no small thanks to scouts like your children,” he answered, smiling. “Are Rolus and Ishande joining us?”
Ilarra popped her head up and stared at the woman, before looking at her father. He smiled but did not look back at her. She suddenly felt stupid for not having asked. Now, the prospect of a marriage did not seem so bad, after all.
Raeln gave Ilarra a sidelong glance that gave her no indication of his thoughts, though she felt torn between vague relief and even more panic. She had dreamt of marrying Rolus since she was a child, but having it become an obligation for both of them was hardly what she had hoped for. Worse still was the idea of Raeln feeling trapped into marrying Ishande, who still terrified Ilarra. Nonetheless, now she wanted to argue in favor of the arrangement.
Ilarra’s father turned to gesture toward Raeln and Ilarra, saying, “My bonded’s child, Raeln, and my own daughter, Ilarra. Assuming they are not inappropriate for some reason, I believe we can begin introductions between them and your children. They have met before, but it would be best if they reacquainted themselves under the current discussions.”
Glancing over, Ilarra saw Raeln’s eyes widen. He took a very slight step back, only to be shoved forward again by his mother. Raeln closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shooting a glare at Ilarra. Whether he knew beforehand exactly why they were there or not, he knew for certain now.
The farmer nodded in agreement and motioned toward the home. A second later, Rolus and Ishande appeared and began walking their way.
Both warriors had cleaned up and donned simple clothing they appeared incredibly uncomfortable in. For the first time that Ilarra had seen, neither carried weapons, though both occasionally touched their hips where a weapon should have hung. From what Ilarra could see as they got closer, they looked very nearly as nervous as she felt, with Ishande’s sagging ears and whiskers hinting at near-nausea, which was a perfect match for Raeln’s expression.