War Of The Wildlands (4 page)

M
i’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.

Y
ori packed a
few meager possessions into a heavily patched knapsack. Among them was a second
shirt that was in much better condition than his usual one. His uncle had
insisted he wear something that wouldn’t offend his wealthy customer. He also
packed a few provisions that his aunt had prepared for his trip. Lacking the
funds to stay at an inn, he would have to carry a bedroll and find someplace
along the way for sleeping.

Meladee watched with sad eyes as he slung the bag
over his shoulder. He knelt down and took the little girl’s hand. “I won’t be
away very long,” he said.

“Promise?” she replied, the tears spilling over
from her eyes.

“I promise,” he replied. He hugged the girl and
retrieved the sword from his workbench. Ren had placed it inside a leather
scabbard and wrapped it in cloth to protect it during the journey. It scarcely
resembled a sword, and Yori was grateful for it. He did not want to appear
armed should someone recognize him as a half-elf.

The morning’s weather was pleasant for traveling.
A soft breeze was blowing through the air, shuffling the dried leaves that
littered the road. The trees were giving off their last brilliant display of
red and gold before succumbing to the long sleep of winter. Luckily, the air
was not cold, and Yori did not regret his lack of a coat.

He encountered very few travelers along the road.
A traveling merchant on a horse trotted lazily past, pulling a small covered
cart behind. At midday, he stopped for a short break at the roadside. Sitting
beneath the shade of a tall oak tree, he crunched one of the fresh, crisp
apples his aunt had packed for him. Tossing the core into the woods, he started
off down the road once more. At sunset, he neared a farmhouse and wondered if
the family inside would mind if he slept in their barn. The clouds had been
gathering throughout the afternoon, and he feared it might rain in the night.

Adjusting his headband to be sure his ears were
still covered, he approached the small farm. A blonde-haired lady was leading a
silver horse into the barn for the night. She caught sight of him and paused.

“Hello there,” he said. “I’m on my way to the
palace district and wondered if you would mind if I slept in your barn.” His
timing was perfect, as a gentle rain was just beginning to fall.

The lady looked him up and down and obviously
didn’t see him as any type of threat. “If you’ll rake out the stalls before you
turn in, you’re welcome to stay,” she replied, wiping her brow with her sleeve.
“My son has gone to join the army, and there are more chores here than my
husband and I can handle.”

“I’d be happy to help,” Yori replied. “Thank you.”

She handed him the horse’s lead rope and went back
inside her house. Yori led the horse inside the barn and tied him just outside
the stall. He picked up the pitchfork and began sifting through the straw. Once
he was satisfied with its cleanliness, he disposed of the soiled straw and
droppings in the large pile behind the barn. He added a fresh bale of straw to
the stall and walked the horse inside it. As he closed the gate, the horse gave
a friendly neigh. He petted its nose and spread his bedroll on the floor just
across from the horse. The work was a small price to pay for a dry place to
sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, he was surprised
to find a plate of sliced bread smeared with blackberry jelly. He devoured the
food greedily and licked the sticky sweetness off his fingers. He repacked his
bedroll and placed it over his shoulder along with his knapsack.

Unlatching the gate, he led the horse out to the
pasture to graze. The woman was already tending to her chickens and gathering
eggs in a basket. He carried the plate from his breakfast to her and said,
“Thank you for the food, ma’am.”

Taking the plate, she replied, “You’re welcome. Are
you looking for work?”

“No, I’m just running an errand for my uncle,” he
replied.

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed. “If you run
into any other young men needing work, send them my way. There are lots of
repairs needed around here, and I don’t know if my son will ever return. Safe
travels to you.”

“I will. Thank you,” Yori replied, feeling sorry
for the overworked woman. He returned once again to the road to complete his
journey to the palace.

By nightfall, he was within sight of the palace.
Just outside of the town, a group of merchants and other travelers had set up
camp and were laughing and talking around a campfire. Yori thought it would be
safer to join them rather than sleeping alone at the edge of the woods. He
approached the men, who greeted him cheerfully.

“Join us, young man,” a robust man said, lifting
his mug. Yori nodded and took a seat near the fire. “You headed to the palace?”
the man asked, offering him a mug of dark brown ale.

“Yes,” he replied, taking the mug and tasting its
contents. It was bitter and very strong.

“Lots of lovely young girls in this town,” the man
replied, raising his eyebrows up and down and grinning.

Yori smiled back, realizing the man was drunk.
Tasting the ale again, he decided it wouldn’t take much to accomplish the task.
He had never tasted any ale so strong before. He wondered if it was the variety
preferred in the palace district.

Another man produced a lute and began to play. The
music was cheerful, and the assembled party began to clap in time to the beat.
Those who knew the tune began to sing along. Never before had Yori been a part
of any celebration, and this one seemed to be happening for no reason. Life in
Enald did not offer many opportunities for him, and he enjoyed the moment.

Along with the free-flowing ale, the men shared
their bread and salted pork. It was the best Yori had eaten since he left his
home, and he was grateful. It was a nice feeling to be accepted without
question. No one here was suspicious of him, and no one knew his secret. Here,
he was simply a young man traveling along the road.

A bright blue sky greeted him the next morning. He
changed into his clean shirt, thanked his new friends for their hospitality,
and continued into the city. He wanted to deliver the sword first thing and
perhaps explore the town a bit when he was finished.

The palace’s market district stretched on for what
seemed like forever. There were scores of stalls selling a wide variety of
goods, and he was sure it was at least four times larger than Enald’s market.
It was still early, but citizens were buzzing everywhere. There were more
people here than he could possibly count. He wondered how easily he could blend
in here, and how long he would have gone unnoticed had he grown up in a town
this size.

Making his way to the palace was slow. The large
crowds of people were in no hurry to move, and most of them walked back and
forth between merchant stalls, browsing the goods and comparing prices. At
last, he approached the huge iron gates of the palace where two guards stood at
attention.

“State your business,” the one on the right said,
sounding bored.

“I’m here to deliver a sword to Lieutenant
Perrin,” Yori replied.

“Go ahead,” the guard said, waving his hand. “The
page inside will give you directions to his chambers.”

Nodding, Yori entered the palace. Immediately, he
was struck by the vastness of the interior. The stone floors were polished, and
the walls were bright. Fancy brass sconces lined the walls, illuminating the
room with a soft white glow. A large staircase with intricately detailed
banisters filled the entire back wall and led upwards to rooms of unimaginable
comfort. His uncle’s small home could fit in the entryway at least five times
over.

A dark-haired page greeted him at the door. “What
can I do for you, sir?” the boy asked.

“I, uhm...” Yori stumbled on his words for a
moment. Never before had he been referred to as “sir”. “I’m sorry,” he started
again. “I’m here to see Lieutenant Perrin. I’ve brought the sword he
commissioned from the blacksmith at Enald.”

“Follow me,” the boy said. He led Yori up the vast
staircase and down a long corridor. The walls were lined with paintings
featuring all manner of noble lords and ladies. All of them wore fancy clothes,
and some of the men carried fine swords. A few were painted with children or
small dogs at their feet. They were so life-like that Yori had to restrain
himself from the childish urge to touch them.

The boy led him into a sitting room that contained
the most lavish furnishings he had ever seen. There were various chairs placed
all around the room, each complete with its own velvet cushion. Yori couldn’t
imagine having such a comfortable place to sit.

After a few minutes, Lieutenant Perrin entered the
room. He was average height with a thick build. His eyes were bright, and his
dark hair hung loosely at his shoulders.

Remembering his manners, Yori waited to speak
until he was spoken to.

“You’ve brought the sword, then?” the man asked.

“Yes, my lord,” he replied, presenting the bundle to
the lieutenant.

He laid the sword on a large writing desk and
unwrapped it slowly. “Oh, this is nice,” he remarked. “This is very nice.” He
lifted the sword in his right hand, checking the balance. Giving it a few
swings, he tested the quality of the work. “Your master has certainly lived up
to his father’s reputation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Yori replied.

“Are you his apprentice?”

“I am, sir,” he said.

“Did you help forge this at all?”

“Yes, my lord,” Yori replied, forgetting his
modesty. “I inlaid the hilt as well.”

“Most apprentices aren’t so bold. They only admit
to lighting the fires,” Perrin said, laughing.

Yori looked at the ground, unsure how to respond.

Perrin turned the sword over in his hand and
looked closely at the ebony inlays. “If I did work this good,” he began, “I’d
want the credit for it as well. Apprentices can be much under appreciated. I
was once one myself.” He winked at Yori. “I purchased this as a gift for Prince
Aelryk. Would you accompany me to give it to him?”

Yori looked at the man with a stunned expression.
He had never imagined meeting any member of the royal household, and he had no
idea how to behave in front of a prince. There was no reason this man should
want him present, but it would be impolite to refuse. Ren would be beyond angry
if the customer wasn’t fully satisfied, so he nodded in agreement.

He followed the lieutenant back down the corridor
and up a second flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs, they entered the
first door on the right which led into another sitting room. The page darted
into the adjoining room to announce their arrival to the prince. Yori’s heart
was pounding, and he hoped he didn’t make a fool of himself. He felt underdressed
and completely out of place in these surroundings. Now he was going to be
viewed by a prince, who would probably be insulted by his mere presence.

The prince entered wearing a black satin tunic.
“Good day, Perrin,” he said, his voice cheerful. He ignored Yori, obviously seeing
him as an insignificant servant.

“Your Majesty, I’ve had a court sword crafted for
you as a gift. It’s early for your birthday, but I have never been good at
waiting.” Perrin presented the sword to the prince.

“This is very fine work,” he said as he inspected
the hilt. He gave the sword a few swings as Perrin had done and ran his hand
along the flat of the blade. “Truly this is a thing of beauty. Is this ebony?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Yori replied without
thinking. Perrin turned to look at him and smiled.

“This is the sword’s maker, my lord,” Perrin said.
“Well, one of them. A blacksmith named Ren from Enald has crafted it, but this
young man is responsible for the inlay.”

“Indeed,” Aelryk replied. “You have an excellent
eye for detail. I imagine you could etch runes as well, had you been born with
the ability.”

Perrin laughed loudly. “I’m afraid you’d need an
elf for that, my lord.” The prince laughed as well.

Yori had a sudden urge to jump out of the window.
He stood frozen in place, hoping he was not asked to speak again. He feared his
voice may abandon him.

“What is your name?” the prince asked.

“It’s Yori, my lord,” he managed to say.

“Yori, you have my compliments. You must pass them
along to your master as well. Perrin, I thank you for this lovely gift. I shall
wear it at all of the court celebrations.”

Perrin bowed, and Yori followed suit. Together
they walked back to the palace entrance where Perrin handed him a purse full of
coins. “It’s been a pleasure, Yori,” he said. “Please give my best to Ren.”

With that, Yori exited the palace. As he returned
to the market district, his head still swam from the morning’s events. Just
seeing the inside of the palace would have been enough, but meeting the prince
himself had been surreal. Though he would never consider spending any of his
uncle’s money, he decided to have a look at the local wares before once again
departing for home. The road before him was long, and traveling solo was lonely
business.