War Of The Wildlands (9 page)

R
eylin led the
way as his clansmen journeyed north. The elderly and children along with their
nursemaids had already been sent across the river, and now the clan’s warriors
were on the move. Stealthily, they traveled near the Na’zoran border. Two scouts
scanned the area ahead to be sure the path was safe. The rest of the group hung
back among the dense foliage, their weapons constantly at the ready.

“Reylin,” a voice called. A young elf appeared
suddenly, dropping from a branch high above. Lon was one of the clan’s bravest
warriors, even at his young age of seventeen. “Not far to the east I saw a
small village. There were no guards nearby, and the humans there did not seem
like they were prepared for any kind of battle. It looks to be a town full of
sheep and cloth weavers.”

“I could go for a little mutton,” Reylin said with
a smirk. He signaled his troops to gather near him. Essa strode forward to
stand at his side. “There’s a village nearby, and I say we raid it,” he said. “We
can even earn ourselves a good amount of meat.”

“No killing children,” Essa declared, her voice
adamant.

“I don’t give a damn what you do with the kids,
Essa. Leave them to starve in the wilderness for all I care. They’re just going
to grow up and kill us like their fathers do.”

“My sword maidens won’t fight if you don’t agree.”
Essa looked around at the women, many of whom nodded in agreement.

Reylin looked around at the men and said, “We’ll
spare them too if it will shut you up.”

Essa looked displeased but said nothing. The group
set out following Lon eastward to the village.

Reylin observed the setting and decided that
surrounding the village was going to be impossible. Much of the land sprawled
eastward for miles. These were large, spacious farms, and there was no active
center to the town. “Looks like we’ll just have to charge in,” he said. “The
trees are too far back to offer cover while we shoot, and those people are
never going to run within reach of our swords.”

Essa nodded in agreement. “Ready the charge,
ladies,” she commanded.

The village was alive with movement. People were walking
here and there tending to their farm chores while children played in the
fields. The archers crept silently to the north and south sides of town, hoping
to pick off any citizen who tried to flee. The farmers would most likely stand
and fight as the sword maidens rushed the village.

Silently, the charge began. Essa had ordered the
women not to cry out and to run as quickly as possible. If the alarm went up
too soon, the citizens would flee before the maidens could reach them.

Just as they reached the edge of town, the
shouting began. Women were grabbing their children and leading them away from
the charging elves. Just as they had hoped, the men grabbed whatever weapon was
at hand: hay forks, woodcutting axes, and shepherd’s crooks. These tools did
not stand a chance against the maidens’ broadswords, but the men were prepared
to fight in any case.

Essa charged wildly at a blond-haired farmer
wielding an axe. He swung down hard as Essa came within reach, but her
two-handed sword blocked the blow. She swung at him with her blade while the
farmer made a weak attempt to block it with the axe handle. The force of her
swing splintered the handle into pieces, and the man staggered back, surprised
by her strength. With one swift move she slashed open his chest. Silently, he
crumpled to the earth.

Reylin and the archers picked off the women as
they tried to flee. As they had promised, the children were spared. They ran
eastward toward the Na’zoran city of Duana. Reylin knew that could only spell
trouble for his people, but he did not dare break his word. Any more trouble
out of Essa and their clan may be divided. He could not risk infighting. Every
Wild Elf who could fight was desperately needed if there was any hope to win
this war.

Once the fleeing citizens were dealt with, the
archers moved to assist the sword maidens. Anyone who had yet to fall to their
swords was quickly taken down by their arrows. Their victory secured, the men
began retrieving any useable arrows they could find. The fate of the elven
smiths was uncertain, and they would not risk wasting precious arrow tips.
These were forged of steel, not simple bone or rock. Such arrows were useful in
hunting, but in times of war, steel or iron was preferred. A few of the
recovered arrows bore etched runes which greatly increased their chances of
surviving to a second or third use. As he inspected the arrow tips, Reylin
hoped silently to himself that his sister would find a living rune carver among
the Sycamore Clan.

As she wiped the blood from her blade, Essa looked
up at Reylin and nodded her head. “Good fight. This was more honorable than
before.”

“It was,” he agreed, “and now those children can
sound the alarm. Within hours, we could be tracked to wherever we choose to
spend the night.”

“Na’zorans don’t have the skill to track us in the
Wildlands. They are blind and ignorant in these forests.”

“Let’s hope they stay that way,” he replied.

The sword maidens slaughtered two sheep and
prepared the meat for travel. It wouldn’t be safe to hang around much longer
with the children raising the alarm, so the majority of the group returned to
the dense forest to feast and celebrate. A few men stayed behind to search the
village for any goods that might be useful and set fire to the homes once they
had finished.

Lon was the last to rejoin the group. With him, he
carried several pairs of iron scissors in a linen bag. “I’m guessing they use
these to trim the sheep,” he told Reylin. “They look like iron. When we find a
smith, he can melt these to make new arrow tips.”

“Well done,” Reylin said, handing him a mutton
rib. “The rest of us were too busy thinking about our stomachs.”

“Who can blame you? We haven’t had meat in weeks.”
Lon tore at the rib with his teeth.

“What’s next for us, Reylin?” Essa asked.

Swallowing a bite of mutton, he replied, “We keep
heading north and raiding wherever we come to. Some of our clansmen should be
reaching their destinations by now, so hopefully we’ll be joined by other
warriors soon. We just have to keep moving to avoid the Na’zoran patrols.”

“Their king will be furious when he hears of these
attacks,” Lon said, still chewing on his food. “I hate those mages, and I’ll
bet he brings more of them into the fight.”

“Let him bring them by the dozens,” Reylin
replied. “Our arrows kill them just as well as any other man.” He flung a bone
away into the cooking fire.

“He’s right,” Essa said. “Mages are tricky. We
don’t know what to expect from them. They might even think they can attack us in
the deeper sections of the Wildlands.”

“I doubt that,” Reylin said. “They might have new
tricks to perform, but they’re still cowards at heart. We’ll be safe if we hide
deep in the forest, and we don’t have to raid every day. We just have to make
sure our presence is known.”

Essa nodded her head in agreement. The warriors
finished their meals and took to the trees to spend the evening in silence.
Reylin climbed to a high branch and began the first watch of the night. Any
Na’zoran who came looking for his clan this night would fall the instant he
came into sight. None would be spared while Reylin stood watch.

T
he sun was
setting fast in the late afternoon sky as Reylana neared the area where the
Sycamore Clan was last known to dwell. She could sense that a pair of eyes had
spotted her, and she scanned the treetops looking for her kinsman. Movement
stirred among the dried leaves, and an elf dropped quickly to the ground.

“Welcome, friend,”
he said as he approached. His head was shaved bald except for a thin strip down
the center that grew long enough to tie back into a ponytail.

“Sycamore Clan, I’m
hoping,” Reylana said, her weariness apparent in her voice. She had traveled
for days without stopping, and her shoulder still ached from the blow she
received in her last battle.

“That’s right,” he
replied, a broad smile spreading over his face. “I’m Nat. What brings one so
lovely as you our direction? You’re Oak Leaf, right?”

“I am,” she began.
“My name is Reylana. My village was recently destroyed by the Na’zoran army,
and I’ve come seeking aid.”

“I’ve heard rumors
about the war, but so far it hasn’t reached our village. We’re better protected
being farther away from their borders. I’ll take you to our Overseer. I’m sure
everyone will want to hear what you have to say.”

“I hope so,” she
said, following the elf to his village. As she approached, she could hear the
sounds of laughter and children playing. Nat had spoken true. This village had
yet to be touched by the war. Reylana’s heart fluttered at the sight of their
perfect little village. Dozens of huts stood proudly among the trees, and a
large festival area still bore the signs of a recent celebration. This was the
home she had longed for since her own village had been reduced to ashes.

Nat led the way to
the Overseer’s hut. Stepping inside, he introduced her to the muscular elf who
provided leadership for the Sycamore Clan. Though his hair was beginning to
gray, his body was still in good shape. “Overseer, this is Reylana of the Oak
Leaf Clan,” Nat said. “She’s come to discuss the war with us.”

“Welcome, Reylana,”
he said. “I hope you have come alone by choice. Does the Oak Leaf Clan still
survive?”

“They do,” she
replied. “We are scattered, though. Those who cannot fight are crossing the
river to safety. The warriors have journeyed north to continue the raids.”

“So the rumors are
true then,” he commented, looking down at the ground. “I feared as much, but so
far our clan has avoided any attacks. Tell me, is there any news of the other
clans?”

“As far as I know
the Silver Birch Clan is worse off than we are. They were driven from their
homes and scattered throughout the Wildlands. My brother is hoping to locate
them and bring them into our own group. I have no news of the other clans. A
few elves from my clan were heading out in hopes of finding them.”

“I hope they are
successful,” he replied.

“Me too. I’ve come
to you hoping that you still have a rune carver among your ranks.”

“We do, but he is
getting on in years. His apprentice is learning, but he isn’t progressing as
quickly as his master would like.”

“We are in
desperate need of runed weapons,” she said, the urgency apparent in her voice.
“They are our only hope of defeating the Na’zorans or of standing a chance
against their mages.”

“Though we haven’t
encountered their armies yet, I have no doubts as to the value of such weapons.
So far, we have only used them for hunting.”

“They are badly
needed in war. I don’t know if any other rune carvers still live.”

He paused to think
for a moment. “We will call a meeting of the clan tomorrow to discuss the
matter. Nat can show you where to find dinner and a bed.”

“Thank you, Overseer,”
she said with a nod of respect.

Nat and Reylana
exited the Overseer’s hut. At the center of the village, a large cooking fire
was just being lit.

“That’s where
you’ll find dinner,” Nat said. “The hunters brought back elk today. There’s
plenty for everyone.”

Reylana nodded, her
stomach beginning to rumble. She hadn’t tasted meat in quite a while, and
freshly roasted elk sounded wonderful.

“My hut is the one
between those two trees,” Nat said, pointing. “My mate and I stay there.
There’s room for one more, and we have blankets to spare.”

“Thank you,” she
replied, still thinking about the food.

“I better get back
to my watch,” Nat said. “I’ll see you later.” He turned and walked back into
the forest.

Reylana joined the
elves who were gathering around to cook the elk. Even with one bad arm, she was
still able to help with some light cooking. She was greeted warmly by the
others and helped herself to a mug of ale. As one woman cut chunks of meat and
skewered them, Reylana placed them over the fire and turned them as necessary.

As the scent of the
roasting meat filled her nostrils, she said, “This smells fantastic.” Her mouth
was beginning to water.

The older woman
nodded, handing her more meat to place on the fire. She was a quiet sort of
person, but she was highly skilled at seasoning meat. Reylana had never been a
very good cook, but she envied those who had the skill.

Once the meat had
finished cooking, many of the elves gathered around the fire to enjoy a meal.
The cooler weather meant fewer fresh greens to be found, but the clan had done
well preserving jams which contained the finest fruits the summer had to offer.
Their sweetness mingled in perfect harmony with the smoked meat, and Reylana
could not remember the last time she had eaten so well.

The clansmen were
friendly and welcomed her with open arms. For now, she enjoyed the company of a
carefree clan and chose not to burden herself with talk of war. Convincing this
clan to join the war could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, she would sleep with
hope returned to her heart.

* * * * *

The next morning was dark and cloudy with a
sorrowful chill to the air. Winter had finally swallowed the land, providing
shortened days and bitterly cold nights. With no huts and no opportunity to
rebuild them, her clan could only look forward to a rough few months.

It was midmorning before the sun began to peek out
from behind its cloudy mask. Its rays, however, provided little in the way of
warmth. Reylana made her way to the center of town, where the Overseer was
already gathering the clansmen together.

An elderly elf stood to the left of the Overseer.
He had bright green eyes and thin gray hair. Despite his age, the elf appeared
to be quite strong, and the muscles of his right arm appeared larger than his
left.
That must be the rune carver
, she thought.
All my hopes rest on
his shoulders.

Catching sight of Reylana, the Overseer waved her
to the front of the crowd. “Please be seated, everyone,” he said. “Our guest
has arrived. Go ahead, Sister.”

She turned to face the assembled elves. “My
brothers and sisters, I have come seeking help in the war that is spreading
across the Wildlands. The Silver Birch Clan is nearly destroyed, and my own
village has been reduced to dust. Our warriors continue to fight the Na’zorans,
but without help from all of the clans we will surely fail. We need more
warriors, and we need runed weapons if we are to prevail.”

Several voices spoke at once. The Overseer spread
his hands, imploring the crowd to quiet down. “Darin,” he said, addressing the
elderly smith. “Let us hear what you have to say.”

“I can’t speak for the warriors,” he replied, “but
I can speak for myself. I will etch runes for any elf needing a better weapon.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources or the strength to forge new weapons
for an entire army. You’ll have to settle for your regular weapons with the
addition of runes.”

“There is little more I could ask of you,” Reylana
replied. “I thank you with all my heart.”

Darin nodded, wishing he could do more. He was too
old to march into battle, but he would support his kinsmen in any way possible.
“My apprentice does most of the smithing, so anyone needing a new weapon will
have to speak with him. He hasn’t mastered the runes yet, so I’ll have to do
those myself.”

“What say the warriors?” the Overseer asked.

Again many voices spoke at once. A dark-haired
archer stood to address the crowd. “If villages are being raided and ruined, we
are needed here to defend our own. I won’t go riding off and allow the humans
to take my home.”

Many voices sounded in agreement. “You could seek
them out and stop them before they made it here,” Reylana said, losing her
patience. “They will come for you in time, and you may not be able to stop
them. My clan was prepared, but we still lost everything.”

A tall sword maiden stood and began to speak. “I
would go and fight this war, but I also fear leaving our home unprotected. I
may fight one group in the north while a second attacks my village. The elderly
and children would be here to die at their hands. I cannot leave my home. Not
yet.” She sat back down, her head bowed.

“You could help us stop this war before it gets
worse,” Reylana said, pleading with the elves. “If you don’t help us, we will
fail. Your clan will not be spared. You may be the last one on their list, but
you will face the same fate as the rest of us.”

The voices in the crowd made it clear that the
majority of elves had no intention of entering the war. They were too far
removed from the Na’zoran border to be bothered with the scuffles between elves
and humans. Reylana could find no words to convince them.

“It seems we will not be joining you after all,”
the Overseer said with regret. “Personally, I agree with your remarks. I fear
Na’zora will strike at us in time, and I wish there was some way to avoid that
fate. However, leaving our village unattended is not an option.”

Reylana stared at him dumbfounded. “Did you become
Overseer through cowardice?”

“Careful, Sister,” he said. “Your list of friends
here is short. You may stay as long as you need, and our healer will be happy
to tend to your injury. Darin has already agreed to assist you, and I hope you
will consider that enough for the time being.”

As quickly as it had begun, the meeting came to an
end. The elves dispersed and went about their business. Nat approached Reylana
once the crowd was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “There are some of us who
would gladly join you in battle. I will speak to them and see if the Overseer
would object to a small group of us coming with you. We have enough warriors to
protect the village if only half of us join the war.”

“Thank you, Nat,” she said, tears spilling from
her eyes. She had come all this way and failed. Her brother had trusted her
with one important task, and she had been unable to complete it. The runed
weapons would certainly help, but who would be left to wield them? Too many of
her kinsmen had already died, and she wanted no more of the war. She wished she
could be complacent like the members of the Sycamore Clan. If only she could
pretend that the war was not her problem, then she could live on in peace and
ignorance.

 Unfortunately, she could not dismiss the facts
and pretend there was no war. Once she was healed, she would return to her clan
and continue to fight. To do anything less would be unimaginable. She was still
a warrior, and she would continue the fight, even if it meant her death and the
deaths of those she loved.