War Of The Wildlands

by Lana Axe

  “I’ve got her,” Reylin said to his companions. “I’ll carry her back to town. Go and fetch Doni.”

  Reylana caught sight of her brother as he carried the wounded elf to the center of the village. Doni, the healer, rushed out of his hut to meet them. Reylin placed the woman on a low wooden bench and looked in Doni’s eyes. They did not look hopeful, and Reylin feared she would not survive.

  “What happened to her?” Reylana asked as she approached.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Reylin shot back, his hazel eyes fierce. “Humans attacked her. They probably killed everyone in her village.”

  “Where is she from?” Reylana asked, kneeling at the woman’s side and taking her hand. She had lost consciousness, but perhaps the small comfort of a friendly touch could soothe her.

  “I’d say she’s Silver Birch by the look of her. She’s wearing one of those shell bracelets their women like so much.” Reylin pointed to the bracelet, which had only a few shells left and was caked in blood.

  “I don’t think I can help her,” Doni said. “This head wound is beyond repair. I’ve given her some herbs to ease her pain, but I have no medicine to heal this type of damage. I’d say she was struck with a hammer from a moving horse. Obviously, the blow was offset and not enough to kill her instantly. That probably would have been easier for the poor girl.”

  “I’ll carry her inside your hut,” Reylin said. He scooped the woman up once more and proceeded to the healer’s hut. At least there she would be more comfortable, even if her wounds proved fatal.

  Reylana waited outside the hut, her face wet from tears. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she said as Reylin emerged.

  “That’s why we have to keep fighting,” he replied. His anger was growing, and she knew he was ready to fight this very moment.

  “We have to stick to the plan, Reylin,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “We attack tomorrow as it is. Let’s get something to eat and try not to think about it for now.”

  They joined their friends at the center of the village. Most of them were enjoying the ale and discussing the following day’s raid.

  “How’s the girl?” Essa asked.

  “Not good,” Reylana replied. “Doni doubts that she will live. Do you think we should send someone to their village to see if anyone else is alive?”

  “I doubt it’s safe,” Essa replied. “The humans have probably left troops behind.”

  “There won’t be many, and they won’t be expecting us,” Reylin said.

  “That’s true,” Essa said. “I guess a few of us could go and have a look.”

  “You stay here,” Reylin said. “I’ll take some archers with me. Who wants to come?” he asked, turning to the men. Several of them raised their hands. “Let’s get going then,” he said. They set out in the direction of the Silver Birch village.

  Reylana fixed herself a plate of elk meat with raspberry sauce and sat down next to Essa. “I worry about Reylin,” she began. “He never stops for a moment. All he does is obsess about revenge against the humans. I want that too, of course, but I think his judgment is clouded by his anger.”

  “The death of your parents was difficult for him,” Essa replied. “It’s natural for him to want revenge.”

  “Yes, but we have to go about it the right way,” she began. “He doesn’t think things through, and the men follow him without question. He’s going to get himself killed, I fear.”

  “We’re all likely to get killed,” Essa pointed out. “This war will most likely continue until we’re all dead. The humans won’t stop coming unless we kill their king. Then we have to hope the new king isn’t as bad, which he probably will be. It’s hopeless, but we have to fight back. I won’t sit by and watch our homes be taken without a fight.”

  Reylana nodded and remained silent. She finished her meal and waited impatiently for her brother to return.

  After a few hours, Doni emerged from his hut with the sad news that the woman had passed away. “She is a part of the forest now,” he said. “I’ll be in my hut should the scouts return with more injured.”

  It was nearly sunset before Reylin and his troops returned. They brought no survivors with them, but they did carry some equipment they had taken off of the slain soldiers. The Na’zorans had left behind a small group of fifteen guards to finish off any wounded elves and search for information on upcoming raids. They were fools to leave behind so few. Reylin’s men had killed them all and taken their weapons and armor.

  “Before I killed one of them, I asked why they were digging through piles of rubble. He said they were searching the burned-out huts for information on raids.” Reylin broke out laughing. “Why would we be stupid enough to write such things down? That must be what humans do. Whatever is written can be stolen and read by others.”

  “I wish we still had a rune carver,” Reylana remarked as she sorted through the weapons. “I wonder if the Sycamore Clan still has one. They’re the nearest now that the Silver Birch are scattered or dead.”

  “There weren’t enough bodies around for them to be wiped out,” Reylin replied. “They’ve gone into hiding somewhere. They’ll either show up here or start again elsewhere. I doubt they’ll rebuild for now, but we’ll probably encounter them somewhere in the forests.”

  “That’s a bit of good news, at least,” Reylana said. “There’s no time to get these new weapons ready for tomorrow’s raid, but maybe some of these things will serve us in the future. You better get some sleep before we head out in the morning.” She gave her brother a kiss on the cheek and said, “Sleep well.” She retreated to her own hut to rest and try to put the day’s events behind her. The morning would bring vengeance and blood.

  Chapter 6

  As dawn broke over the forest, Reylana and the other sword maidens were already in position. They had chosen the perfect spot just outside the farming village. A small series of rolling hills provided perfect cover where the women could not be spotted from the town itself. A light fog had settled that morning, thanks to the autumn weather, and its presence only aided the elves in their attempt at stealth. The men were stationed in the forest on the opposite end of the town, and soon they would begin the attack.

  The crowing of a single rooster brought many villagers from their homes to begin the day’s work. As soon as a handful of them were in sight, Reylin signaled the attack. Arrows began to fly from the trees, none of them missing their targets. The Wild Elves were excellent archers, and they did not intend to waste many arrows today.

  Villagers began fleeing back to their homes, but Reylin’s men were prepared. They had carried with them a handful of red-runed arrows which they now prepared to fire. As the arrows struck the villagers’ homes, they immediately burst into flame. The fires spread rapidly, consuming the houses within seconds. Terrified villagers rushed from their homes, heading straight for the waiting sword maidens.

  Essa struck the first blow against a pudgy woman who could run surprisingly fast for her size. At Essa’s side, Reylana swung her sword as a frightened man nearly crashed into her in his flight. The archers had descended from the trees and were still taking aim at the villagers, shooting many of them in the back. Seeing that they were about to be left out of the fight, Essa signaled the women to charge into the village. Together they ran toward the remaining humans and easily cut them down. Not a single one of them had taken up arms.

  Essa stayed her sword as a frightened boy ran toward her in a panic. He was screaming “mother” as he recognized the lifeless form at Essa’s feet. Without a hint of fear, he dropped to his knees at his slain mother’s side. Essa lowered her sword and stared at the boy. Suddenly, an arrow pierced the side of the child’s neck, and he slumped to the ground. Looking up, Essa could see that only Reylin still had his bow at the ready. The other archers had already begun salvaging arrows from the corpses in hopes of using them once again.

  Essa strode with purpose toward Reylin, the anger obvious in her steps. “We do not
kill children!” she shouted. When she reached him, she shoved him roughly, forcing him to take a single step back. Essa’s large, muscular frame gave her a more intimidating presence than most elven women. “Kill the men, fine. Kill the women, fine too. They should have armed themselves instead of running like cowards. The children have done nothing and cannot fight back. That is where we draw the line. We are not murderers.”

  Reylin was unfazed by her reaction. “We have to send a message,” he replied casually. “This is no more than they’ve done to our children, and we have to be as brutal as they are. If we are soft, they will never fear us. If we’re not a threat, they’ll never leave us alone.”

  “Reylin, he was only a child,” Reylana said softly, kneeling near the boy’s body.

  “That child would have grown up and joined the human army. In a few years, he’d be slaughtering our kind too. You should thank me for getting rid of him.” Reylin stormed off, followed by his troop of archers. They proceeded back into the woods in the direction of their village.

  “I won’t fight alongside your brother again,” Essa said to Reylana.

  “We have to stick together, Essa, or we have no hope of defeating the Na’zorans.”

  “I’d rather be killed than fight the way he does. I couldn’t live with myself after that.” She motioned to the boy on the ground, the grass beneath him soaked in blood.

  Reylana didn’t know what else to say. She loved her brother, but she did not agree with his actions. The murder of their parents had changed him from a carefree young elf into a heartless warrior. He thought of nothing but revenge.

  They returned to the village to find the men celebrating at the center of town. They all had mugs of ale and were complimenting each other on their prowess in battle. Reylin appeared to be the only one who remained sober.

  “Reylana,” he called, motioning for his sister to come closer.

  She approached him and stood silently, waiting to see what he had to say.

  “You’re not going to scold me like Essa did, are you?”

  “No, I’m not. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand your reasons.” She swallowed, looked away, and added, “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

  “It is this way, Sis,” he said. “Our only chance is to join forces with all of the remaining clans on this side of the river. We’re all in danger, and we should work together.”

  “Agreed,” she replied.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “Well what?” she said, puzzled.

  “You have a big mouth. You could go and talk to the other clans.” He took a sip of ale and grinned at her.

  “Why don’t you go? If they say no, you can beat them into submission.”

  “If only it were that easy,” he replied with a mock sigh. “Seriously, I’m needed here. These guys need a leader who isn’t afraid to make hard decisions. You’re prettier and more persuasive than me. You should go.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she said.

  “Just tell them we should all join up and see what they say. Obviously it’s a good idea. If they say no, they’re traitors to our entire race.” His voice became more and more angry as he spoke.

  Reylana stared at him for a second. “I guess I could try. Essa’s pretty pissed, so I probably won’t be going into any battles for a while anyway.”

  “No battles under her command,” Reylin pointed out. “She isn’t your boss, and this is a war. We do what we have to, which includes putting new leaders in place. You can lead the sword maidens when you return.”

  “Thanks, but no,” she replied, shaking her head. The last thing she wanted was a command. It was too much pressure, and she didn’t like screaming orders at people who were only half listening. Wild Elves are free spirits and do not follow orders in the same fashion as humans. Human soldiers are highly disciplined and do not think for themselves. A Wild Elf fighting in the forest has to use his own wits, even if it means disobeying his commander.

  “You don’t have to go at once,” Reylin said. “We barely have enough people to defend the village as it is. After today, we can expect Domren and his goons to come after us.”

  Chapter 7

  Mi’tal waited patiently at the inn for the prince to arrive. Frequently, the prince would meet him here for lunch rather than eating at the palace with his father. His father only talked about military strategy, but Aelryk preferred the relaxed nature of the inn. Mi’tal admired the prince’s desire to be near regular people, even though his father preferred to stay as far as possible from the common man.

  Mi’tal himself could fit in anywhere. He was a nobleman, but he lacked the arrogance that often came along with a title. He was taller than most other men and had a hefty warrior’s build which gave him the appearance of a soldier rather than a noble. The inn suited him just fine.

  As Aelryk entered the inn, few people took notice. He was tall and handsome with dark hair and eyes, and the ladies rarely ignored him. Today, however, only Mi’tal seemed to be interested in his arrival. He raised his mug and nodded as the prince took a seat across from him.

  “An ale, please,” Aelryk said to the young serving girl who was passing by. She abruptly stopped in her tracks and turned to obey the prince’s command.

  “There was an attack on a farming village in the south,” Aelryk began. “Father wants swift, immediate retaliation.” His ale arrived, and he handed the girl a silver coin. She stared at him a little longer than would be considered polite, and her face began to blush. He gave her a broad smile before she went back to her work.

  “Do you know which clan was responsible?” Mi’tal asked.

  “Does it matter?” Aelryk replied. “He wants them all killed, and he doesn’t care who we attack in response to the massacre. None of those citizens were armed.”

  “Personally, I’d prefer to find the ones responsible,” Mi’tal commented. “I don’t like senseless killing. Surely we can live beside some of those clans in peace.”

  “I agree,” the prince said, sipping at his ale. “I spoke with one of the lieutenants who was at the scene shortly after the attack. They had runed arrows that set fire to the homes there. That would suggest the Sycamore Clan, but we can’t be sure. They could have crafted the arrows for any other clan.”

  “Which clan lives closest to the site of the attack?” Mi’tal asked.

  “The Silver Birch were the closest, but they’re scattered now. I doubt they’d have been able to regroup so fast. The Oak Leaf Clan would be the second closest. They are suspected of attacking Enald earlier this week.”

  “I guess we’ll be heading for them next, then,” Mi’tal said. “I don’t like fighting women. Even women as ruthless and bloodthirsty as those elves are still women. It doesn’t feel right to fight them, and the men are impossible to catch when they’re hiding in the damn trees.” Mi’tal sat his mug down hard, shaking his head as he spoke.

  “It is somewhat unsettling to fight women until you realize that they will kill you given the chance. They’re fierce warriors and as capable in battle as any man. Don’t let your guard down with them for a second. They won’t hesitate to kill you.”

  Aelryk’s words were true. Most Wild Elf women are trained in fighting from birth. Some choose other paths, of course, but the vast majority become sword maidens. They spend long hours practicing their craft, while the men hunt game to provide food for their families. The men are not any easier to deal with in battle. Their skill with a bow is unmatched in all of Nōl’Deron, and they are deadly accurate. Typically, they employ stealth by hiding in the treetops before taking aim at their victims. Crossing into their territory without permission usually leads to certain death. Unless a man wanted to know what it felt like to be a pin cushion, he stayed clear of their woods.

  At the back of the inn, a group of merchants were having a heated discussion about King Domren’s taxes and the hardship they were causing. To fund his war against the elves, the king had raised taxes
on every citizen, especially the merchants. They were required to give an outrageous twenty percent of their profits to the king. The men sent to collect the taxes would demand more coin every time. They refused to believe that anyone kept honest records of their sales, and as a result, they took it upon themselves to threaten the merchants into paying more.

  Aelryk strained to hear the merchant’s speak.

  “We should go directly to the king and appeal,” one man said. “He may not know that his tax collectors are corrupt.”

  “He knows,” a second man insisted. “He prefers it that way. He’s a ruthless tyrant who cares only for his wars. The common man be damned.”

  Aelryk looked in their direction, contemplating the man’s words. An abrupt silence followed. Realizing they had been overheard by the prince himself, the men were quick to gather their things and leave the inn.

  “Do you think my father’s taxes are unfair?” he asked Mi’tal.

  “Taxes are always heavy when we’re at war,” Mi’tal said.

  “The collectors, do you know them?”

  “Not one,” he replied. “All I know is that any position giving a man power over another man’s money is a dangerous one. It leads to corruption, and few men are immune to it. Most men who are given the opportunity to steal a little gold here and there will take it, especially if there is no chance of being caught.”

  “Who audits the auditors?” Aelryk quipped.

  “Exactly my point,” Mi’tal agreed.

  Aelryk made a mental note to mention the subject to his father. Once again, he felt the familiar dread in the pit of his stomach. He knew it was inevitable, but he did not look forward to speaking with his father about such matters. Domren was not a man who took advice well. He disliked being questioned, and his advisors had learned to simply agree with him. They were more concerned about their own lands and titles than the well-being of the kingdom. Aelryk knew change was needed, and he hoped that one day he would prove a worthy leader for his people.