War Of The Wildlands (24 page)

M
anaging to
avoid the raging battle, Mi’tal moved quickly toward the king. He had been
dismounted and was swinging away at a sword maiden. His guards were focusing on
the elves as well and would never suspect Mi’tal’s true intent. Tightening his
grip on his hammer, he made his way behind the king. His heart raced as he
lifted the hammer high into the air, intending to kill with a single blow.
For
Na’zora,
he thought. He was certain the king’s guards would immediately
strike him down, but his life was a small price to pay to free his kingdom from
tyranny. He hoped that Aelryk would forgive his treason one day and remember
him as the friend he had always been.

Out of nowhere, an arrow struck the king through
the neck just as Mi’tal’s hammer was about to come crashing down. The king
toppled to the ground with the arrow still sticking out of him. Blood gushed
from the wound, staining his bright armor a crimson red.

“Save the king!” a
guard shouted as soldiers rushed in to lend aid.

Aelryk, who had not
managed to make it to the king’s side, looked to the tree line where the arrow
had originated. A lone red-haired archer stood, leaning to one side. It was
obvious he was wounded, but the prince felt no pity. He plowed through the
fighting, knocking soldiers and sword maidens alike out of his path. Reylin
looked up as the prince approached, but made no effort to defend himself. He
was far too weak from blood loss, and his broken ribs prevented him from taking
in a full breath. With a single stroke of his sword, Aelryk slashed Reylin’s
chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he fell to his knees, collapsing onto the
soft earth.

Hurrying to his
father’s side, Aelryk once again blasted through the crowd. The king lay
motionless on the ground, his eyes staring blindly at the sky. Aelryk felt a
chill on his spine as winter sent a cold blast of air against the perspiration
on his skin. His father was dead.

“You are our king
now,” Mi’tal said, coming to his side.

Aelryk stared
blankly at his father’s body, not hearing Mi’tal’s words.

“Your Majesty,”
Mi’tal said, attempting to catch Aelryk’s attention. He laid a hand on the
prince’s shoulder. “You are our king. You can put an end to this war.”

Aelryk looked up at
him, the shock of his father’s death being put aside. Remembering his promise of
peace to the elven people, he nodded to Mi’tal and patted him on the shoulder.
Now the king of Na’zora, he had sworn to put an end to the fighting.

“The king is dead!”
he shouted to the soldiers. The ground fighting continued, but at the sound of
the prince’s voice, the few remaining mages ceased their fire. “Stop this
fighting at once!” he commanded, trying his best to shout above the noise. He
feared the elves would not heed his words, but he intended to do as he had
promised.

“Fall back!” he
shouted. His words echoed throughout his army as the men did their best to
break away from the fighting.

Hearing the
prince’s words, Essa commanded the maidens to stop as well. “Maidens to me!”
she cried.

Reylana lowered her
sword and backed away slowly from her opponent, who took the opportunity to
retreat. As she turned, she caught sight of Reylin lying lifelessly on the
ground. She ran to his side as tears clouded her vision. “Oh, Reylin,” she
sobbed as she fell to her knees beside his body. At the death of her parents,
she had not wept openly. Her grief for her twin was far greater, and she could
not hold back the tears.

Finally managing to
take in a breath, Reylana ran deep into the forest. The war had claimed her
brother just as it was coming to an end.
It’s just as well
, she thought.
He never would have accepted peace.
Continuing to run deeper into the
forest, she pushed the thoughts of her brother from her mind. The time would
come to grieve more for Reylin, but for now, she had a mission to accomplish.

Aelryk moved to the
front of his army to face Essa. He laid his sword flat across his hands and
thrust it into the ground at her feet. Retrieving her sheathed blade from her
scabbard, she thrust it into the ground beside his.

“From this day
forth, let us have peace,” Aelryk said.

“No elf will attack
a citizen of Na’zora without provocation,” she replied. “King Domren is dead,
and you are now the king. You must ensure your people no longer attack us.”

“I swear to you, I
will see it done. I will draft a peace treaty along with the leaders of the
elven clans. Together we will come to terms and end this fighting.”

Essa nodded, her
eyes fixed on Aelryk. She believed him to be a man of his word, and she
intended to be a part of his peace treaty. “The elven leaders will negotiate
with you,” she said. “We desire peace for our forests, just as you do for your
citizens.”

Aelryk extended his
hand to Essa, who grabbed his forearm and gripped it tightly. Grasping hers as
well, he looked into her stern, dark eyes. He felt a sense of relief that he
had not encountered her during the battle. She was probably the fiercest
warrior he had ever encountered, if she could be judged by her eyes alone.

From the trees
behind Essa, a blonde-haired woman emerged followed by an auburn-haired elf.
Reylana had brought Lisalla to her prince as an offering of peace. Lisalla
hesitated and looked back at Reylana.

“Go on,” Reylana
said.

Lisalla drew in a
deep breath and slowly made her way to her betrothed. Aelryk stood in awe of
her beauty as she came ever closer. Her blonde ringlets danced on the wind, and
her stunning blue eyes reflected the cold, piercing the frosty air as a needle
through cloth.

Aelryk stepped
forward and took Lisalla in his arms. They embraced for the first time, and Lisalla’s
eyes filled with tears.

“The king is dead?”
she asked. Her voice was soft and quiet.

“He is,” Aelryk
replied.

“Perhaps it is for
the best,” she said quietly. “If he was half the tyrant I heard he was, Na’zora
will be better for it.”

“He was my father,
Lisalla,” Aelryk said. “He was also my king, and his loss pains me.”

“Yes, but now you
are the king,” she replied with a smile. “Now you can have peace.”

Aelryk turned his
attention back to Essa. “Your delegates can return to the palace with us. I can
guarantee their safe passage.”

Essa, Reylana, Nat,
and Sal all agreed to accompany the king to the palace. Some of the remaining
clan Overseers would be sent, and at least five members of each clan would be
present for negotiations. All of their futures depended upon this treaty, and
none of the clans would be left out.

A
fter catching a
ride on one of Al’marr’s gem wagons, Yori found himself back in the village of
Marrel. He had changed out of his green robe and donned the more comfortable
clothing of the Wild Elves. Eager to see how his grandfather was faring, he
hurried into the woods. The paths from the Sycamore village to Marrel were
still worn, reassuring Yori that his clan had not been wiped out while he was
away. He hoped they were safely settled on the far side of the river.

The snow had melted
away, leaving a sogginess to the forest floor. A cold breeze stung his skin as
it joined the moisture of the woodlands to create its icy blast. Though the
Sunswept Isles were always warm and sunny, Yori happily accepted the winter of
his homeland. His nose was reddened and his eyes watered thanks to the frozen
air, but he did not complain.

Near the outskirts
of the original Sycamore village, a scout called out to Yori from the trees.
“Yori?” he called. “Is that you?”

“It is,” he
replied, scanning the branches above. He finally spotted the elf, who was
waving happily as he sat among the treetops.

“Glad to see you’ve
come back.”

“Thanks,” he
replied. “Has the river frozen solid, or will I need to use a raft?”

“The Blue River
never freezes,” the elf replied. “You won’t need to cross it, though. The war
is over, and we’ve returned to our old village. The new king has promised
peace.”

Yori’s heart leapt
at the news. “That’s good to hear!” he called. “Does that mean King Domren is
dead?”

“Cold and stiff,”
the elf replied happily. “The new king is drafting a treaty with all of the
clans.”

“Then the prince
kept his word,” he commented. It was indeed good to hear that the prince had
kept his promise. Peace had finally returned to the land, and the elves would
no longer be driven from their homes.

“I’m just as
surprised as you are,” the elf replied.

Waving goodbye, he quickened
his pace until he reached the village. Stopping at its edge, he gazed on his
father’s people. Elves moved here and there, going about their daily lives.
Fresh elk meat was roasting, sending a pleasant aroma to his nostrils. His
stomach growled in anticipation of the fine elven cuisine.

At the far edge of
town, he saw his grandfather’s furnace fire glowing a deep orange. The sound of
the hammer let him know that Lem was hard at work, probably being yelled at by
Darin. He hurried across the village to reunite with his family.

“Yori?” Lem was
obviously surprised to see him.

A wide smile spread
across Yori’s face. “Yep,” he replied. “I’m back. Where is Grandfather?”

“I’m sorry, Yori,”
Lem said, looking down at the anvil. “He’s gone.”

“Gone?” he replied,
his heart sinking at the thought that the old elf had died.

“He’s across the
river helping them dismantle the forge. The stubborn old elf keeps insisting we
should leave no trace that we were ever there. He says it’s bad for the
forest.”

Yori sighed in relief.
Seeing that his grandfather’s workbench had been left messy, he set down his
bag and began tidying the area. Various tools were strewn about, most likely
left there by Lem. Without supervision, he was rather forgetful and a bit
careless. The tools needed to be cleaned and properly stored to avoid
unnecessary wear and tear. As Yori busied himself cleaning, he heard a familiar
voice coming from the edge of the village.

“That’s it. Set it
right there and don’t drop it. They can’t be reused if they’re all busted up.”
Darin was directing two elves carrying heavy loads of brick. One elf bent to
place the bricks on the ground, but Darin shouted, “Not there! Over there!” He
pointed off to his right. Shaking his head, the elf did as he was commanded.

Happy to see his
grandfather hadn’t changed in the short time he was away, Yori strolled to his
side. “Are these guys giving you trouble?” he asked jokingly.

Darin turned
around, wrinkling his brow. Seeing Yori, his face broke into a warm smile.
“You’ve made it back,” he said. Clapping Yori on his back, he added, “I’m glad
those snooty islanders didn’t roast you on a spit.”

“I learned a lot
from one of them,” Yori replied. “Master Eldon taught me how to set their
enchanted gems among weapons.”

“Really?” Darin
asked curiously. “Does it combine with the runes?”

“It does.”

“You’ll have to
tell me all about it.” He paused a moment and added, “That is, if you’re
planning to stick around.”

“I’ll stay a while
if you’ll have me,” Yori said with a smile.

“You’re always
welcome here. Always.” Darin put an arm around Yori’s shoulders and said, “Come
on. There’s one more load across the river, and you can help us carry it.”

Yori gladly
accompanied the elves to the river. As the raft pushed away from the shore,
Yori knelt and looked into the blue water. A silver mist swirled just below the
surface, and he could not resist the urge to touch it. As he placed his hand
lightly in the water, the runes of his silver ring flashed. The runes that had
once been purple took on a faint blue tint. Removing his hand from the water,
he inspected the ring. The band itself had taken on a bluish tint as well.

None of the others
on the raft seemed to notice what had happened. Yori remained silent, not fully
understanding what had occurred. Pressing the ring to his heart, he suddenly remembered
a promise he had made. Perhaps the River God was reminding him to show him the
path he should follow.

Once they reached
the shore, Yori helped the elves load up the last of the bricks from the forge.
As they crossed the river for the last time, Yori saw no sign of the being that
lived in the water. Being blessed by the river’s magic, he no longer felt
uncertain about his future. He knew what he should do and where he should make
his home.

“You seem a million
miles away,” Darin commented as they reached the shore.

“Just thinking,” he
replied. “I’m going to keep my promise to the prince,” he declared. “He has
kept his promise to us, and I should do the same.”

Nodding, Darin
replied, “I understand, but stay here with us for a few days. I like having you
around.” His green eyes sparkled as he looked upon his grandson.

“I will,” he
replied. “I hope I’m able to visit here once in a while. The forest is in my
blood, and I don’t want to stay away from it too long.”