Dusk Over Arcath

Chapter 3

"I herald from a land countless leagues from here," Narenhior began. The shapes of the crowd around him leaned in to catch the edge of his soft voice until their very silhouettes curled toward him in the light of the brazers. "Its name will mean nothing to you, but it is a land not unlike your own. My father was a lord in amid a proud people that dwelt within a wood so old it is said to have been planted with the first drop of the sea's water. It is there I grew and learned the sword. I learned much of the world and of the wood.

"Within the vastness of the forest was a sea greater than even the size of this whole plain. Its surface appeared as the most polished obsidian so black was its waters. Within them dwelt all the darkness of the nights it had witnessed, though our people lived contently near its waters for it ne'er gave us worry.

"But in time the mystery of that blackened water fell upon us and with it the need for a war so immense that it should consume us." The elf lowered his gaze to where his hand drew his sword. The white of its steel caught the light, setting it aglow amid the council. "And so it did. Much of my people fell by the foes of those waters. It was not long before we were driven out."

"And so you have come to us?" one of the counselors inquired.

Narenhior turned his eyes to stare upon the seated woodsman. "If it were that simple. My clan has wandered the lands between there and here for neigh on twenty years in search of a place to accommodate us. Nothing has availed. At each we are met with fire and sword until our numbers have thinned to a pitiful few that look to the North as our last refuge."

"You come with a host then." Emereld's tone betrayed little but Aster thought an edge of wariness might have honed his voice.

"Indeed," Narenhior replied. "We number little more than a hundred, but there are scarce among us who do not wield a bow or sword. It is herein that I speak of helping you. I hear that the woods beside these walls are a bane to your city and a thorn in the foot of your council. This forest is, however, my final refuge. Every frontier has since been expended and I have nowhere else to go."

"What do you propose, Wayfarer?" This time Emereld hid no weakness in his elderly voice. His lips spoke each word clearly through his wispy beard, baring as much of a challenge as a question.

"I propose the heart of the matter be addressed. Your troubles are foreign to me, but there is a phrase where I come from, 'If a danger cannot be stilled by a word, let it be silenced by a sword.' There are many swords among my company - enough to still any foe that dwells in your realm."

"Our axes are stout," another counselor muttered. "Our men are hardly knights, but they lack nothing in courage nor prowess. Why should you, a nighttime stranger, offer a solution to a lifetime of troubles?"

"It is the best solution at hand. I ask you, how many men have you lost within the timbers of this forest?"

The silence of the night spoke for the council as Narenhior's stormy eyes searched each man's stormy face.

"If you choose not to march with me, so be it," the elf continued at last. "But I wager that there is no place for me and my kin among these halls," he waved at the tall buildings that framed the city square. "I will expend your hospitality only as long as I must. My people will enter the wood. If you have the courage to ride with us, I welcome a native's eye."

"We lack no courage, Outsider," one of the counselors retorted, rising from his seat at the timber log. A steely grey beard could scarcely conceal the scowl that adorned his face. "It is only wisdom that is missing in your proposition. You know nothing of our people, our land. We are strangers to you and our forest is unlike the Celebrior of which you speak."