War Of The Wildlands (16 page)

M
i’tal strode
beside the prince as he marched heavily down the stone corridor of the palace.
He had not bothered to change out of his battle clothing, and his chainmail
rattled as he walked.

“My lord, is it wise to barge into your father’s
council chambers like this?” Mi’tal asked. Aelryk’s dark eyes shot an annoyed
glance his direction.

The pair continued at a brisk pace until they
reached the arched wooden doors of the council chambers. Not waiting for the
guards to open them for him, the prince swung the doors wide with the strength
of both arms. The councilors inside sat stunned, staring at the prince.

“A marvelous entrance as always,” King Domren
spat. “What do you want?”

“I want a word with you, Father,” the prince
demanded. “These fools can stay or go. It matters not.”

“We are in the middle of a discussion. You can
wait outside,” the king replied with a dismissing wave of his hand.

“This will not wait!” Aelryk shouted. “You will
hear me now!”

The councilors glanced at one another, wondering
if they should leave the room. The temptation to listen in, however, proved too
strong. The king had not ordered them to leave, and they silently agreed to
stay and witness the spectacle.

“How dare you barge your way in here and give me
orders! I should have you thrown in the stocks!” The king rose to his feet and
stared red-faced at his son.

“You can throw me where you like, but first you
will listen. You are a tyrant and a fool. I will not continue to slaughter
peaceful elves. You cannot possibly hope to defend all of the Wildlands, and
you’re risking war with Al’marr and Ra’jhou!”

“Al’marr barely has an army and Ra’jhou will fight
alongside us. That was the price of your bride. We will eradicate the elven
presence, and our people will inhabit all the land east of the river. In time,
we will have the west side as well.”

“You’re completely mad,” the prince replied. “You
can’t think to take over the west bank.”

“Why not?” the king asked. “No one could possibly
stop me.”

“There is a sorcerer there more powerful than all
of your mages combined. You would be sending your army to certain death.”

“That is a fairy tale, my gullible son.”

“The elves of the Sunswept Isles speak of battles
with this sorcerer. They all failed to subdue him. Human mages have nothing on
Enlightened Elves, and they will be slaughtered.”

“Then I’ll find more,” the king replied with a
shrug.

“What will you do with all of the land you’re
planning to take? It is nothing but forests and meadows.”

“Those things can be easily removed,” King Domren
said, taking his seat once again. “We will build new towns and farming villages
and our population will grow. Every family will be required to enlist a son
into my army until we have enough men to conquer all of Nōl’Deron.”

Aelryk could not believe his ears. If his father
truly intended to destroy the forests, he was determined to stop him. “I will
not allow that to happen,” he said calmly.

“Are you threatening your king?” The king rose to
his feet again, staring angrily at his son. “You will leave my presence this instant.”

Aelryk stared at his father for a moment before
turning to leave. He glanced quickly at his father’s councilors, who appeared
nervous and uneasy. If they valued their lives and fortunes, they had no choice
but to agree with the king. Plainly, however, many of them disagreed with the
king’s plan.

Mi’tal had waited outside the door and rejoined
Aelryk as he stormed from the council chambers. “Where are you going, my lord?”
he asked.

“I need to borrow your hammer,” he replied.

“May I ask for what purpose?”

“I feel like breaking something!” The prince
clenched his fists as he continued down the corridor. Exiting the palace,
Mi’tal drew the hammer and offered it to the prince.

“Put it away,” the prince said, seeming calmer now
that he was outside in the fresh air.

Mi’tal slipped the hammer back into its holster
and said, “It is ever at your command, my lord.”

A young boy in peasant clothing approached the
prince. Clearly out of breath, the boy had been running at top speed to deliver
a message. “Your Majesty,” he said, panting. “Your Highness, I mean. I have a
message from General Luca, sir, Majesty.” He leaned his hands on his knees and
doubled over to catch his breath.

“What is it?” the prince asked, losing patience.

“A carriage, my lord, was found. The princess’s
carriage. She is gone, my lord.”

“What do you mean? She was taken prisoner?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, sir. She was taken by elves.
The other carriages were found north of Duana. Some of the drivers and guards
were killed with elf arrows, sir.” The boy stood up straight again having
recovered his breath. He spoke with his head bowed out of respect for the
prince.

“Did General Luca send anyone to find her?”

“I, umm...” the boy began. “I don’t know, Majesty.
He said to inform you right away. I’ve been running for two days with only an
hour or two of sleep. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think to ask questions.”

“It’s not your fault, young man,” the prince said
reassuringly. He gave the boy a few coins and turned to Mi’tal.

“We must find her,” he said. “I can only hope
they’ve decided not to kill her since she was not found among the dead.”

“Perhaps they mean to use her as leverage,” Mi’tal
suggested, smoothing his black hair with a gloved hand.

“We can only hope as much,” the prince replied. “I
need you to find out where they’ve taken her. Do whatever you can to negotiate
her release and secure peace with the elves. I will remain here to keep an eye
on my father. I will do whatever it takes to prevent another massacre.”

“Of course, my lord. I will do what I can.” Mi’tal
knew that this would be an incredibly dangerous mission. Assuming he managed to
make it behind enemy lines without a dozen arrows in his heart, he had no idea
if they would listen to reason. There were several clans scattered throughout
the Wildlands, none of which had a village that was marked on any map. Every
village the Na’zorans had known about had been destroyed. Unsure of where to
begin looking, he proceeded to the stables to fetch his horse.

Instead of taking men along for the journey, Mi’tal
decided it was best to travel alone. He would appear less of a threat if he was
unaccompanied and bore a white banner of peace. Perhaps the elves would take
pity on a man alone and hold their fire long enough for him to speak. His only
regret was being too far from King Domren to assist the prince in ascending the
throne. For now, his other plans would have to wait.

L
isalla walked
unbound at the head of the company next to Reylin. The elven army now numbered
over twelve hundred strong. Luckily, the Mountain Clan warriors already
possessed runed weapons, thanks to the skill of their clan’s rune carver. Every
evening when the company stopped to rest, he worked diligently etching runes
into the blades of the sword maidens or the tips of the archers’ arrows. In
time, all of their weapons would carry the magical symbols that would sway the
odds in their favor.

The forest remained frozen, locked in winter’s
grasp. A few inches of crunchy snow blanketed the earth, preventing Lisalla’s
feet from warming. She still wore the soft slippers she had brought from her
homeland, and they provided little in the way of warmth. Hugging the fur
blanket around her shoulders, she tried to focus on walking and forget her
winter surroundings.

When they stopped for the night, Essa took out her
broadsword and began polishing the blade. Sal, who had been admiring her at a
distance, finally found the courage to approach her.

“That’s a fine blade,” he commented. Essa ignored
him and continued to rub a cloth along the sword. Sal waited a moment and spoke
again. “Are you going to have our rune carver etch it for you?”

“Maybe,” she replied, still looking at the blade.

Sal took a deep breath and let it out. He took a
seat next to Essa and said, “We could die in battle tomorrow, you know. Would
you like to mate tonight?”

“You could die today,” she replied, glaring at him
and tightening her grip on her sword.

“I don’t mean to offend,” he said, raising his
hand to touch her dark hair. She grabbed his wrist and squeezed it.

“Don’t touch me,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Get away from me,” she added, shoving his arm away.

“I’ll mate with you,” one of the Mountain Clan
women said. “Come on, Sal.”

Sal smiled at the woman and turned back to Essa.
“Looks like you’re going to miss out,” he said before taking the other woman’s
hand. They ascended into the trees together, while Essa remained focused on her
blade.

Reylin, who had not overheard any of the
conversation, took a seat next to Essa.

“Why are men always so preoccupied with mating?”
she asked, obviously annoyed.

“All I did was sit down!” Reylin replied in a
surprised tone.

Essa shook her head.

“Anyway,” Reylin began, “I wanted to ask your
opinion on what to do next. I think we should give the rune carver time to work
on everyone’s weapons. After that we can resume the fight.”

“That’s a good idea,” Essa replied. “It was a nice
surprise that the Mountain Clan had a rune carver. Still, he is only one man.
The work could take a long time, and I hate to sit idle.”

“We could watch the road for travelers in the
meantime. Maybe Reylana will return soon with the Sycamore Clan’s rune carver.”

“They could all be dead, for all we know.” Essa
put her blade back in its leather scabbard. “But I hope not. It’s a long
journey. I think we should move to a more central location where all of the
clans can meet if they decide to join us.”

“I agree,” Reylin said. “We should make sure there
are patrols near the border at all times, though. We don’t want to be taken by
surprise, even if we all join together. The next strike should be ours.”

Essa nodded in agreement. “What are you planning
for the princess?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “They probably know
by now that we have her, but I don’t know if they care. She’s just one girl
after all.”

“Yes, but she is a very rich girl,” Essa replied.
“I think they will come looking for her. Ra’jhou might even send an entire army
to find her. Are you prepared to fight both kingdoms?”

“I suppose if we have to,” he said. “Maybe we
could bargain her freedom for their help against Na’zora.”

“They would certainly be a welcome addition to our
army,” she replied. “I think she likes you. Maybe you should see what she knows
about her kingdom’s politics.”

“I’m not so sure she wants to be my friend,” he
began, “but I can try.” He stood and approached the campfire where Lisalla and
Danna were sitting quietly.

Lisalla nodded as he approached. Danna’s eyes grew
wide, and she stared at the ground. “Why does this one recoil when I approach?”
he asked, gesturing to Danna.

“She’s frightened,” Lisalla replied.

“Has she no voice of her own?”

Danna began to sob, burying her face in her hands.
Reylin shook his head in disbelief. “She is a coward and a disgrace,” he said.

“She isn’t accustomed to being a hostage or going
along on forced marches!” Lisalla protested. “You could have a little
compassion.”

“It would be compassion to put her out of her
misery. Would you like that?”

Lisalla’s mouth clamped shut, and she gave no
reply.

“I’ve come to ask you about your father, the king.
If we release you to him, will he fight on our side against Na’zora?”

“My father does as he pleases. I cannot say what
he would give for my safe return.” After a moment, she added, “You could send
Danna with the message. It can’t hurt to try.”

Danna paused in her sobbing to look at Lisalla.
She glanced at Reylin and then back to the princess. “Please let Lisalla go
home,” she begged.

“Go back to your bawling,” Reylin commanded.

“My father has agreed to help Na’zora. That was
the price of my dowry.”

“I see,” Reylin says. “Was he gathering an army to
march against us?”

“No,” she replied. “I don’t think he truly
intended to fight. He just wanted me married and gone.”

Reylin laughed. “The joys of being a princess, I
suppose.”

“He might pay you for my return, but I do not know
if he will go to war. There has not been a war in Ra’jhou during my lifetime.
My father is no war leader.”

“So what you’re saying is it’s hopeless to ask.”

“I’m trying to answer you truthfully. I do not
know how my father will react.” The princess looked in Reylin’s eyes as she
spoke. She never glanced away, hoping to convince him of her honesty. Earning
his respect may very well be the key to saving her life, and she intended to
have it.

“If I send this girl with a message, will she
return with an army?”

“She will do exactly as I tell her,” Lisalla
replied. “She is my loyal servant.”

“Yes, but if your father commands differently, she
will have no choice but to obey. Perhaps it’s better to bargain you to your
prince.”

“I am told he is an honorable man, but we have
never met. Again, I do not know what he would give for my life.”

“Maybe I should kill you both and be done with
it,” Reylin said casually. “I’ll decide in the morning.” Without another word,
he walked away leaving Lisalla and Danna to ponder their fate.

Lisalla’s heart sank, knowing that she had failed
in her attempt to free Danna. She doubted Reylin would choose to send the girl
as a messenger when there was a chance she could send back an army to attack
them. He would not want their exact location known, and in order to negotiate,
someone would have to be able to find them. She regretted being born a princess
who was not allowed to learn about war and politics. She was only expected to
know how to dress in the latest fashions and how to please her husband. It was
truly a waste to teach a daughter such things. She vowed to herself she would
teach her own daughters better, should she survive to bear children. Elven
women were fighters, and human woman could learn to fight as well.