Chapter Fifteen: A Word of Warning
The smell of the burning bodies was putrid. Everything about them just seemed un-natural. Their sooty bodies, the pure empty hunger in their eyes that flashed with foreign cruelty. The most basic instincts in my body screamed that they were wrong, that they shouldn't even be walking on the land of Cadelith.
And yet here they were.
I resisted the urge to chew on the inside of my lip. A childish habit that I had kicked many years ago, but, with the weight of everything pressing down on my shoulders, I found myself turning to it again. The enormity of what had happened with those men wasn't lost to me.
Humans had pledged themselves to me. The creatures with soft-rounded ears and loud voices. Creatures who had formed such a bitter opinion inside of me from what they had done to me and my family when I was a girl. I wasn't the kind of person who Elves rallied to, never mind humans.
I had always done my own thing, with a stubbornness that had frustrated my mentors, but I respected them wholly. There was nothing inspirational about me – I didn't do dramatic speeches; I had the tact of an ox, and fumbled my way through most deep conversations, managing to insult people along the way.
"Oh Kendon," I said his name softly. "You always said that I was too hard-headed to be as tactful as an Elf. What would you say now, with these men pledging themselves to me?"
I knew what he would say. I could see him in my mind's eye. How that shocked, brilliant smile would break across his face. He would laugh – not at me. He never laughed at me in that mocking way I had become so used to as a child, but he laughed at the jokes I had said, the dry humour in my voice and the situations I always managed to get myself in.
"There you are," A voice, too merry for the scene before me, called out. I turned to find the Magister picking her way towards me around forlorn stumps of once mighty trees. She spotted the empty bowl I had left beside me, from when I had eaten my supper. Her mouth tightened, and I wondered if she considered it rude that I did not eat with them.
"Do you need something from me?" I said shortly. Thinking about Kendon so freely had loosened something in me, and I didn't want to be around any of these humans encase I unravelled.
"I was worried about where you had gone. It's getting dark again, and you were on your own." Her voice was dripping with concern.
My brows knitted in confusion, but I curbed another cutting comment. The Magister watched me closely, her lips pursed. A burn had singed the top of her ear, barely missed her tightly cropped hair. Did she keep her hair short, so she wouldn't burn it?
Fyr sighed and her shoulders loosened in defeat. "The Captain has posted Paladins in Abeth for a short period of time to oversee the defense of the village and to begin training the villagers. We can train the men who pledged themselves to our cause and bring them to Haaling."
"Abeth doesn't appeal to those with an adventurer's heart. But I think they'll find that Haaling is no more exciting." That sounded like a lie. Especially when I looked back to the ashen bodies in front of me. More would come, and we would need those soldiers who pledged themselves.
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Our little party stayed in Abeth for three more miserable days. I was used to the snipes, so the abuse the villagers hurled at me didn't bother me, but it amused me all the same to see how the Magister recoiled at their vile words. The Captain had witnessed a verbal sparring match between myself and a drunken man who had called me a 'feckin- tree hugger'.
I had tried to explain that I was not a forest Elf and the spell of using a tree to heal your wounds was nothing to sniff at. It was a sacred rite of my people, but he just kept sneering. Perhaps the conversation would have gone better if he was sober and the Captain wasn't watching me to see what I would do.
On the day of our departure, I struggled to keep the relief from my face. Arrow seemed to sense it and pawed at the ground uneasily even when I tried to soothe her. The men who would be accompanying us were rooted in the centre of the group, some mounted and some not. I watched as Tamas cast a fond look over the dilapidated buildings and the grey pallor of Abeth, before smiling sadly.
He held his possessions in a ratty pack and despite being raised as a peasant, he held himself with quiet confidence. It was very difficult to train into a person, but with a good trainer, Tamas could become a great fighter. These things took time, but when I looked at him now, I saw a young man with promise.
I stopped myself at that thought, a knot forming in my stomach. That observation had brought back memories of many years ago, when I had been only a girl of ten winters. I had been filled with a shocking amount of youthful rage and a strong sense of justice. The human children had come across my brother and I playing with a wooden sword that my father had carved for Galen's thirteenth birthday.
My brother Galen had always been a gentle and kind soul and had allowed them to take it when they demanded. Adults had been watching us and none of them stepped in to help the two Half-Blood children. I had never expected them to either. Neither Galen or I reacted until the boy who had taken his wooden sword struck my brother hard across the head with his own toy.
"Filthy rats. Yer parents should have drowned you are birth."
I never considered the consequences. I just stepped in front of my fallen brother with my chest swelling with anger and determination and demanded that they hand back his sword. I had my own- I had requested it for my birthday when I had seen Galen's and wanted nothing else but that.
They only saw a thin, poverty ravaged Half-Blood standing in front of them. They did not see a girl nimble from working on a boat, able to move quickly and confidently while the world beneath her shifted. They did not see a girl confident with a knife from years of scaling and filleting fish, breaking down animals and used to a blow to the face from the humans that resented us.
I didn't remember feeling fear as they laughed and surrounded me. I was angry. I fought like the wild-animal they thought I was, never giving up as they continued to beat me into the ground. They could do what they wanted because no one would step in and held a Half-Blood. Giving up was not an option for me.
Except someone did step in.
He was an Elf decked in travelling robes of rich purple, with a deep commanding voice that send our attackers fleeing. I took the hand he offered me with slight hesitation, bristling as he looked over me curiously. I waited for the cutting comment on my blood status, but none came.
He only smiled and said, "You have promise."
Three words that changed my life. A stranger had seen something in me that no one else had. For that, I was forever grateful to Mentor Lhokin. He gave me another chance at life – one filled with acceptance, learning and a chance to escape the poverty in my life. Those words led me to Dratlan Keep.
Those words had led me here. I eased back into the presence as the Captain pulled his mount up beside me, his expression condemning. I scowled at him, digging my heels into Arrow's side, eager to finally leave Abeth.
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The Captain called a meeting the moment we retuned from Abeth. I had only slipped from Arrow's weary back when he passed by me, with a quick order that we were to meet him in the meeting room. I patted Arrow's snout, feeding her the oats that had been hanging in a bag at the stables.
"A woman can't even wash herself, can she?"
Arrow just peered at me with large brown eyes and blew out a long breath. I sighed with her: I should have expected something to be honest. The Captain had only insulted me once on the journey back from Abeth and instead seemed to favour flashing me strange looks as if I were an annoying puzzle that he had no other option but to figure out.
Fyr didn't appreciate being called in for a meeting either. She grumbled lowly under her breath as she dismounted her mare, glowering after the Captain who seemed utterly unaffected by the harsh weather and terrain we had travelled over in the past few days. I let her fall into step beside me, wearily surveying the expanse of Haaling before me.
The village, turned Paladin outpost was quiet for this time of day. Winter's sunlight filtered in through the old stone buildings that circled around Atoll, and vines crept along each building, their leaves lost to the winter wind, but I could imagine their vibrancy in the spring.
"I would just like a bath." Fyr glanced down at her dirt speckled hands. She had tiny hands – soft and scar-less. That was strange to me – all our warriors in Dratlan could wield weapons and even the strongest casters could protect themselves without magic. It just made sense to us. Magic was entwined in our blood and our heritage, but we trained to not allow ourselves to rely on it wholly.
I didn't reply, and we made our way into the Map-Room in silence. We weaved through the narrow halls, clambering down narrow stone steps that led down into the silent Map-Room where I could feel the weight of the earth like an oppressive weight upon my shoulders.
The Captain's back was to us, and he didn't turn when the door opened. Kohen did however, his glimmering eyes focusing on us. The journey didn't seem to affect him, but the wind had chafed his long ears, turning the skin a red, mottled colour.
I opened my mouth to recommend a paste to him – one known to all Elves because our long ears were sensitive to the cutting wind, and dry air. I hadn't come across it in Haaling yet, and I could feel my own beginning to prickle from their lack of care.
The Captain turned, his voice cutting. "It took you two long enough."
Fyr's mouth flattened as she took her place by the table.
"I didn't realise that we were being timed, Captain." I stood beside Kohen. "I assumed you were a busy man."
"I am a busy man." He straightened, his eyes hard and cold. I could have smiled; his distrust seeped from him, poisoning his tone and his expression.
"And yet you have time to check how long it takes the Magister and I to walk through Atoll." The corners of my lips curled, sharp and mocking.
"I abhor lateness." The Captain seemed to hold himself taller, a gleam of a challenge in his eyes. There was the subtlest of smiles curling at his mouth, as cutting as mine. "And I cannot help but notice that it takes you a shockingly long time to get yourself from the stables to this room."
"I do not come when you snap your fingers." I leaned forward, my silver tattooed palms pressing against the table.
"You are here now, aren't you?" His voice was undeniably smug.
"I am here to do work, and not concern myself with frivolities. I suggest that you try it, Captain Bryant."
That was enough to cut him. The man seemed to love nothing other than his work and an insult to that was an insult to the basest foundations of his person. His expression shuttered, but he never stepped back. What a stubborn man – and facing against a stubborn woman?
"This is ridiculous." Fyr sighed suddenly. "I want no more of this quarrelling. You will stop sniping at each other and we will talk about what we came here to talk about. Mahon!"
The Captain took one look at the tiny Magister, and his tanned face paled. For a moment, where only the sounds of the wind whistling distantly could be heard, he said nothing.
He swallowed and focused his attention on the ratty map in front of us. "That is a good suggestion, Magister."
I bit down a smirk, but then Fyr switched her attention to me. "Aviana!"
Gone was the quiet, kind Magister and instead her expression was fixed into something that instilled a baser sort of fear into me. It was a motherly expression of disappointment that made me supremely uncomfortable.
"That is a good idea, Fyr."
I caught the smug grin that settled on the Captain's stern mouth, but he quashed it before the Magister could see. Even with his mouth flattened into that familiar stern grimace, I could see that little victory gleaming in his eyes.
"Your powers have granted you the ability to speak Ekini." Fyr rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "You're connected to the Nirani who you can burn with a touch."
"We have established this. Or at least, proven that theory in Abeth. I am going to bed." I growled, pushing myself away from the table.
"I am surprised to see you giving up so easily, Birchwood." The Captain kept his eyes on me.
I bristled. "I am not. I just do not see the point of having this conversation when we are weary from the road."
"Our memories are still fresh." The Captain kept those dark eyes on me. "I thought the Dratlan Elves were trained to be fearsome. Now, the only one I have ever encountered is throwing the rag in because she's tired."
"Do not insult my people Captain." I snarled, turning on him. "It is petty to speak ill of the dead. Especially when you do not know them."
To his credit, he faced me down coolly. "You are the face of the Dratlan Elves now. You are the only one remaining. Show the world that the rumours of their training were true."
It was truth, but it enraged me that this human was scolding me so. Shoulders tense, I returned my attention to the map and Kohen let out a long sigh.
"We have received word from Shaldorn."
Both the Captain and the Magister went rigid at the name, and even Kohen's fingers were turning white as he pinched the letter in question. The seal of the Paladins kept the letter shut.
"What is Shaldorn?" I asked curiously.
The Captain's mouth flattened, as if it were a stupid question. Fyr cast him a look before turning her kind eyes on me. "Shaldorn is the seat of the Paladin's power. It is a fortress crafted in the time where Elves and humans lived in harmony, and an old magic still lingers in the walls. All recruits are trained there, and it is where they take their life-long pledge to the Paladin army."
Curiosity got the better of me, as it always did in life. "Were you trained in Shaldorn, Captain?"
He met my eye, and I saw a flicker of surprise at the question. I resisted the urge to smile wryly – I could be nice when I wanted to, or when I wanted something.
He crossed his thick arms and mulled over the answer. "I was."
"How old were you when you began your training?"
"Twelve." A grunt of answer. Asha'da, was I getting under the Captain's skin.
"Twelve?" I thought about it. "That is young is it not? For humans to be sent away from their homes? Did your family come to visit you?"
His eyes narrowed, the cobalt blue turning ice- cold. "No."
"Neither did mine." I loosed a sigh. "What was your training like?"
He glowered at me. "I think I preferred it when you were insufferably sullen, Birchwood. Open the letter Kohen and inform us of its contents."
"Manners, Captain." The taunting helped curb the bitter edge of grief. I snagged the letter from Kohen's hand, sniffing at the thick parchment.
"If you would be so kind as to open that letter, Birchwood." Gone was that surprised glint as he barely managed to stop himself from snarling at me. "I would be grateful."
I broke the seal, grumbling and pulled out the letter without ceremony. The writing was horribly slanted, and so different from Elvish that for a moment, I struggled to wrap my mind around it.
"Dear Mahon,
I should hit you for taking so long to respond to my last letter, but it is a relief to hear from you my old friend. When word came of what happened at Dratlan Keep, we were all devastated. Losing Commander Whitely is a blow that Shaldorn will reel from forever. I had feared that you had perished too in the massacre, and that your luck had finally run out.
We have spent years fighting together, dodging death by a hair and to think that we didn't die on the field of battle together.... listen to me. I am turning into a snivelling fool. I wonder what made our Commander so desperate that he would turn to the Elves for help?
I paused, raising my eyes from the letter. The Captain's expression didn't change, but Fyr had the grace to look embarrassed.
"Things here in Shaldorn have fallen into madness. Every Captain scrambles over another for the title of Commander. Your name has been mentioned but your opposition uses your age against you. They say you are too young to be Commander.
Still you have supporters should you choose to fight for the position. I am here and I have always had a honeyed tongue. The captains are arriving daily from their outposts.
Another word of warning. I have read your letter about the worrisome news of a Half-Blood in your party. I do not need to warn you about the nature of those creatures, but I will anyway. Be careful Mahon. They are creatures who harbor a lot of hate and they are as coy as their Elven brethren. Do not let yourself be tricked."
The aid you seek will not come for a while yet. Months perhaps. With the Order in such disarray, the additional troops are being pulled in. Some believe that this threat is nothing more than a farce created by the Elves to try and regain control of Cadelith again. I would believe them too, if I did not know you so well.
If you need to take action, do it Mahon. I will keep you informed of the situation here, but no help will come from Shaldorn. Be careful my friend and may the Divine guide you through these darkening times.
Your friend, Lieutenant Greydon Caldson."
I set down the letter, a knot of worry inside my chest. The Captain looked bothered, a deep frown puckering his brow. I didn't truly understand what this meant, but by the solemn faces of my three companions, things weren't getting better.
I tried to grapple with it mentally, to keep myself above the rising tide of panic and desperation that was seeping into the room. There were newly recruited men outside this building who had followed us here, and this outpost was full of innocent people and soldiers. Like many other villages and outposts across the Elven borders.
I cleared my throat, hoping that my voice was cool. "No matter. We will just create our own army."
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