War Of The Wildlands

by Lana Axe

  “Can anyone learn this?” Yori asked.

  “Any elf probably could, but I can’t say they’d all be as good at it.” He handed the second arrow tip to Yori. “Your father was really something special. He could finish these twice as fast as I ever could. You have his eyes, you know.”

  “How do these runes work, exactly?” Yori asked. “I don’t understand the process.”

  “Like all elven magic, it comes from within. You’ll need to learn a bit of earth magic, but that will come naturally to you. Then it’s just a matter of putting the runes in the proper order. As long as you have talent with the metal, you can etch runes. Poor Lem just can’t seem to master the fine details. I suppose it takes an artistic talent as well.”

  Yori had never considered himself particularly artistic. He did enjoy creating the fine details of a sword rather than the everyday tools he used to make back in Ren’s shop. He remembered the pride he had felt when he finished the inlay for Aelryk’s court sword. The process had taken many long hours, but the joy he felt upon seeing the finished product had been its own reward. It was truly a thing of beauty to behold, and Yori had impressed even himself with the quality of his work.

  “Let’s see how well you can copy a line of runes,” Darin said. “Grab some scrap metal and give it a try. Don’t worry about it blowing up on you. The runes you etch won’t have any magical properties to them just yet.”

  Slowly, Yori began to etch the same runes onto the scrap metal that his grandfather had etched onto the arrow tips. Still unfamiliar with the symbols, he would pause halfway through each line to double check the shape of the rune. He did not intend for a single rune to look different from his grandfather’s. If he could not yet imbue them with magic, he would certainly learn to etch the correct shape in the meantime. Once he had finally finished, he pushed the scrap metal toward his grandfather for inspection.

  Bending down close to the runes, Darin said, “This is very good for a first try. This would actually be good for tenth try.” He smiled at Yori and nodded approvingly. “You’re going to be good at this,” he said. “I can already tell.”

  Relieved, Yori finally remembered to exhale. He smiled back at his grandfather, who was beaming with pride. Yori had proven himself a fast learner. Now all he had to do was memorize the runes, learn what to etch for a desired effect, and unlock the magical secrets that would give the runes their power. The thought made him nervous but excited too. Before him was the opportunity to do something very few elves could do. As a half-breed he had always been treated as an undesirable. Now he had the chance to become something special.

  Chapter 23

  Moving quietly through the forest, Reylin scouted ahead of his warriors. He stopped suddenly, hearing footsteps nearby. Just ahead, a small caravan was heading south just outside of Na’zora’s border. Reylin wondered who would be stupid enough to travel away from the road in a war zone. He sprinted back to his kinsmen to deliver the news.

  “Essa,” he said as he reached the group. “There’s a small caravan ahead. It looked like merchants, and I saw no guards escorting them.”

  “Let’s get them, then,” she said with a smile.

  Drawing their weapons, the warriors advanced through the forest to meet the caravan. The wagons stopped short as the elves emerged from the woods. Arrows began to fly through the air, catching the wagon drivers before they knew what hit them. The maidens rushed to open the doors of the rear carriage and ordered the men inside to step out.

  A finely dressed man in a feathered hat emerged slowly from the carriage, followed by a balding man with a round, protruding belly. “Don’t kill us! Please!” the fat man begged, falling to his knees.

  Essa could not abide a cowardly man, and she ran him through without a second thought. The finely dressed man held up his arms in surrender and remained silent.

  Reylin approached the man and asked, “What kind of dumbass leads a caravan through a war zone?”

  “Apparently a dead one,” the man replied.

  Reylin laughed. “What was your purpose here?”

  “I collect taxes for King Domren,” the man responded. “We had confiscated some goods from merchants who refused to pay their fair share. I was taking them back to the palace district.”

  “You were going the wrong way,” Reylin said. “It seems to me you were taking them someplace other than to your pig king.”

  “The king does not need all of these items. I was bringing them to the market myself and would have given him the profits.”

  Again Reylin laughed. “I’m sure you would have. You’re an important man I take it?”

  “I am,” he replied. “I am also very wealthy and will fetch a good ransom should you return me safely to my family.”

  “I don’t bargain with Na’zorans,” Reylin replied, his eyes cold and full of hate. “You bring gold to a king who uses it to murder my people. You don’t deserve to live.”

  “Reylin,” Essa said. “Maybe he’s right, and we could trade him for more weapons.”

  “You want to trust this one? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I want to do whatever will be best for our kind,” she said, shaking her head. “If he’s important, the humans might retaliate.”

  “They’re going to retaliate anyway. Have you forgotten what happened to our village?”

  The archers were growing impatient with the conversation, and one of them yelled, “Burn him!” Several voices spoke up in agreement.

  “No,” Reylin said. “Let’s peel the skin from his bones and send him home.”

  The elves cheered at the suggestion and rushed in to perform the grizzly deed. The man screamed and flailed as the elves descended upon him, stabbing him repeatedly with their knives. When they had finished, nothing remained of a man except a red mass of flesh. They loaded the remains into the wagon, and Reylin turned the horses to face east. With a slap of his hand, he sent the horses racing towards Duana. He only wished he could hear their screams when they opened the wagon to discover the grim spectacle within.

  After the attack, the elves were in high spirits. They moved back into the forest and away from Na’zora’s border. Suddenly, Reylin heard the call of a bird that no longer existed in the Wildlands. That could only mean another clan was nearby. Responding with a similar whistle, Reylin slowly walked in the direction of the sound. The bird continued to call until Reylin was upon it. A scout descended from a branch high overhead and landed in front of him.

  “Greetings, Brother,” the elf said. “I am Niko of the Mulberry Clan.”

  “Reylin of the Oak Leaf Clan,” he replied. “Is your village nearby?”

  “It’s a few hours north of here,” Niko said. “Our warriors have come to find you. We want to join the fighting.”

  “That is good to hear.”

  Niko whistled for the rest of the Mulberry Clan’s warriors to join him. Reylin was pleased to see they still had over three hundred warriors in their ranks. They would certainly be stronger now that they had joined forces.

  “Do you have any idea where they will strike next?” Reylin asked.

  “No, our Overseer has refused all negotiation with the Na’zorans. One member of our clan had been captured but returned home bearing a message from the prince. He claimed he wanted peace, but it was most likely a trick. One of your clan visited us and told us where we might find you. He was old and not feeling well, so he stayed behind in the village.”

  “Who is protecting your village?” Reylin asked.

  “We left behind a few archers. I doubt the humans could have slipped past without our knowledge. They move too loudly through the woods.”

  A gnawing feeling came over Reylin. Without a decent number of warriors, the Mulberry Clan’s village would not stand a chance against an attack. “We should head for your village. Your people aren’t safe there, and we need to evacuate them across the river.”

  Niko nodded his agreement, and the two companies joined ranks before heading north
. Night began to fall as they reached the devastation that had once been home to the Mulberry Clan. Piles of rubble that had formerly been huts still smoldered, and the smell of death filled the air. Warriors cried out in agony as they saw their loved ones lying dead upon the earth. Solemnly, they began the grim task of placing the corpses among the trees to honor them in death.

  “We should travel to the other villages and evacuate them before it’s too late,” Essa suggested. “This cannot be allowed to continue.”

  “The Mountain Clan is the nearest to ours,” Niko said. “We should head that way first.”

  “I’ve never been that far north,” Reylin said. “You will have to lead the way. We should stay close to Na’zora’s border, though. If they send out more soldiers, we might be able to stop them before they reach the village.”

  “Agreed,” Niko said. “We can head out in the morning. It appears our Overseer was among the dead.” He shook his head. “He was my father.”

  “I’m sorry,” Essa replied softly. “You must lead your people now. I can see strength in your eyes.”

  He nodded and let out a long, slow breath. “I’ll do what I can. Just yesterday we were not at war. We had everything we needed, and our homes were safe. Now we must fight to keep what is ours.” He strode off into the darkness, contemplating the road ahead.

  Chapter 24

  Soft snow began to fall over the Sycamore village. A thin white blanket was rapidly accumulating on the forest floor. The weather, however, would not hinder Yori’s lessons.

  “Take off your shoes,” Darin said to Yori.

  Yori looked up, puzzled. “It’s a little cold to go barefoot, don’t you think?”

  “Take them off anyway,” he replied. “You need to connect with the earth beneath your feet.”

  Hesitating, Yori stared at his grandfather. Realizing that the old elf was indeed serious, he reluctantly bent down to remove his shoes. The feel of the frozen ground beneath his feet was unpleasant, and he soon felt the cold traveling up through his body.

  “Now,” Darin began, “take that chisel and etch me some fire runes.”

  Yori grabbed for a piece of scrap metal and began chiseling the runes he had learned for the arrow tips. After finishing the work, he showed the runes to his grandfather.

  Sounding disappointed, he said, “This isn’t right. You have to concentrate more.”

  Yori stared at him, not knowing how to respond. Finally, he said, “I’m freezing. What do you want me to concentrate on doing? The runes are correct, aren’t they?”

  “Of course they are!” Darin shouted, losing his patience. “You mastered those the first day. Now you have to infuse them with magic. Otherwise, they’re just useless symbols.”

  “I don’t know how,” Yori admitted.

  “I’m trying to teach you, but you’re not listening. You have to connect with the earth. Concentrate.”

  Yori took the chisel and scrap metal once again. Wiggling his toes into the cold snow, he tried his best to feel the earth. In truth, all he felt was the cold. He began to etch the fire runes into the metal and passed it back to Darin.

  Sighing, he said, “I must not be explaining this very well. Your father came so naturally by his magic that I never really had to explain it at all.” He crossed his arms and stared off into the forest for a moment. Just as Yori began to worry that his grandfather was too ashamed of him to continue the lesson, Darin spoke again. “Close your eyes and listen.”

  Yori obeyed. He heard Lem’s hammer as he pounded a piece of metal on the anvil, a baby crying somewhere in the village, and the hissing of a campfire as the flames competed with the snow for dominance.

  “What do you hear?” Darin asked.

  “A hammer, a baby, and a fire,” Yori answered honestly.

  “Don’t listen to that crap!” his grandfather shouted, slapping his hand against the workbench. Yori opened his eyes and glanced over at Lem, who had stopped hammering to eavesdrop. “Listen to the forest. Tune out everything else, and listen to nature.”

  Again Yori closed his eyes. He tried his best to ignore the sounds of the village and find any sound from the forest itself. To his disappointment, he heard nothing but the snow falling all around him. Looking at his grandfather, he replied, “I only hear the snow.”

  “That’s a start.”

  Yori was surprised to hear those words. He had expected to disappoint Darin once again.

  “Try closing your eyes and focusing on the snow for a moment before you etch the runes.”

  With a nod, Yori closed his eyes and focused his ears to the sound of the snow. It was coming down harder now, and his feet were quickly being covered by the cold white blanket it left on the ground. Opening his eyes, he gave the runes another try.

  Darin inspected the metal closely. “That’s better. They aren’t glowing red, but they look a little shiny. I don’t think they’re going to do anything, but you’re getting there. Why don’t you grab a blanket from the hut and go and sit a while at the edge of the forest. Just try to clear your mind and relax.” Yori started to leave when Darin added, “I’ll let you put your shoes back on now.” He chuckled to himself as Yori grabbed his wet shoes from beneath the snow.

  Grabbing a thick fur blanket, Yori made his way to the edge of the village where the forest became denser. He sat upon a low tree stump and stared into the forest. His mind, however, had no intention of relaxing. For the last few days he had studied the runes relentlessly. Nearly every waking moment was spent staring at scrolls and memorizing which runes created which effects. As he had never attended any school, he never considered himself to be very intelligent. He was determined not to disappoint his grandfather, and he wanted nothing more than to learn quickly and efficiently.

  As he closed his eyes and attempted to focus on the sound of the snow, his mind swam with all of the different symbols he had learned. They flashed unceasingly in his head until he once again opened his eyes. Before him he saw a world of white amid a dense, unending forest. Taking in a deep breath, he closed his eyes again. Focusing with all his strength, he still could not hear the sound of the snow. The runes had returned into his mind and were taking over his every thought.

  Feeling completely defeated, he placed his head in his hands and stared at the ground. In the distance, he thought he heard the sound of running water. Though he had found his father’s clan days ago, he had not had the chance to explore the area. All of his time so far had been spent in the smithy. Remembering his uncle’s words, he wondered if he was hearing the Blue River nearby. His curiosity overcame him, and he decided to venture into the woods to find out.

  The snowfall relented as he pressed on through the woods. He lost track of time and focused solely on finding the river. After an eternity in the woods, he emerged into a clearing and caught his first glimpse of the riverbank. Crossing the white field, he was drawn to its banks as if hypnotized. The swift current bubbled and splashed as it climbed over the unseen obstacles in its path. Closing his eyes, he allowed the sound of the water to enter his soul. The runes no longer flashed over and over in his mind. In their place was the image of flowing, clear water.

  As he inhaled deeply, the fresh, cool air filled his lungs. He opened his eyes once more to behold the mighty river before him. The water was fresh and clear with a slight blue hue to at its depths. Yori could not guess how deep the water might be, but it felt like it delved down into eternity. Never before had he beheld a sight so lovely. He felt as if the river itself had reached up and enveloped him in its waters.

  Feeling more connected to the earth than ever before, he knelt at the bank and drank a handful of water from the river. It was crisp and clean and the most refreshing drink he had ever tasted. Slowly, he rose again, taking one last look at his muse. Turning, he made his way through the forest and back to the Sycamore village.

  As he entered the woods, he felt like a different person. Suddenly, the trees seemed to have a voice as they creaked and swayed beneath t
he weight of the snow. The withered brown leaves crunched beneath his feet, and a small, unseen creature scampered somewhere beneath the leaves. A jay belted out a call high overhead, piercing through the silent forest with great force. The sound of the river followed behind him, refusing to leave his ears just yet.

  He returned to his grandfather, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. “I think I understand now,” he said.

  With a nod, Darin handed him the chisel and scrap metal, and Yori etched the fire runes into the metal once more. This time, however, his eyes flashed green as he meticulously etched at the steel. Darin inspected the finished runes and smiled proudly at his grandson. “Well done, young man. This looks perfect.” He patted Yori on the back, and his eyes narrowed mischievously. “Should we try it out?”

  Yori remained silent, staring open-mouthed at his grandfather. Quick as a flash, Darin tossed the scrap metal away from the village into a soft pile of snow. As it buried itself deep into the fluffy white heap, it exploded, sending snow and dirt in every direction. Villagers came running from their huts to see what had happened.

  “False alarm!” Darin called out to them, cupping his hand to his mouth. With a wave, he dismissed them all to go about their own business. Yori laughed in disbelief and was joined by both Darin and Lem.

  “You learn fast,” Lem said. “I’ve been trying to do that for years.” He nodded, approving of his cousin’s skill and returned to his hammering.

  “Now practice, practice, practice,” Darin commanded. “And whatever inspiration you found, make sure you keep it close to your heart. You’re going to need it with you for the rest of your life.”

  Chapter 25

  Three elaborate white coaches with scrolling gold carvings passed slowly along the roadways of Ra’jhou. Lisalla and Danna sat in the middle coach, staring out of the windows at the world passing by.