First Among Fools
By Renae
(With editorial thanks to
Warren and Babs Yerunkle)
Chapter Three - Those Who Hunt
A good day had passed since my leaving Rixthat at the bridge,
as much as I would have enjoyed his company, Fate had made her will clearly known.
I smiled remembering Rixthat’s expression when the coin had halted dead in the
air. I suppose that he had not had much in the way of the various Gods and
Goddesses parading through his life. I shook my head remembering the old, but
oh so true, curse about living in interesting times.
I for one was not going about and complaining about boredom,
tedium perhaps but not boredom. I was getting a good workout in the process of
picking up sticks and trying not to have them go up in puffs of smoke. My pack
was certainly not getting any lighter, though having everything I
thought needed, was nice. I still wanted to strangle a few bards or
storytellers in that; well they never seemed to equate great deeds with great
distances. Every song seems to be set over the next hill when you are listening
to them.
Call it an idle fancy in that I could wish for a tale to
actually tell of the journey, not just the bits of daring do. Though if you had
to translate my actions of late, into song, I am not sure if the puking of my
guts up would be a good verse. Sure I saved a small town, but I had not exactly
done it by any notion of ‘Bardic Chivalry.’ I shook my head, then again how was
I to know if X’al the Great, killed all those Orcs in fair fights? Part of me
suspects he had help or he had been as creative in killing them as I had the
bandits.
When the road took an abrupt turn to the west I was forced to
pull out my map and decide if it was to my benefit or not to go with it. The
few marker stones I had encountered along the road did say I was heading in the
correct direction, though no real distance was marked upon them. I suppose it
was to keep an invading army from knowing exactly how far they had to march.
Though I suspected if we were invaded, the invaders would already know how far
they had to go.
The map was only slightly helpful in that it did show the turn,
but it was obvious the distance on the last leg of my current trail was
suspect. If I went by the map I had but maybe a league to go, though the rise
in the woods that lifted a section of the forest higher than the rest was at
least that far away. Walking with the road would allow me to do some more
reading, even if it seemed a bit chancy to be swallowed up in reading.
I think Thomas would approve of my studious nature, though I
would likely get an earful for not doing it sooner. Oh I knew the basics of the
principles of magick, I just had not needed to worry about them before.
It was complex, mind numbing and well boring, if you approached it from the
perspective of one who would likely never even spark a flame. That had changed
and so had my focus on learning it. Sure turning sticks into ashy splinters was
neat, it just wasn’t very practical.
Once the map was stowed away and the compass tied carefully to
a long cord and my belt, I made my way into the woods. And right back out
again, as some thing was dead wrong. I stood silently at the edge of the forest
and listened, there were the sounds of life, but the smell was that of death. A
faint breeze carried traveled out of the forest and I about gagged from the
stench it brought with it. Something or a lot of things were dead and close to
the edge of the forest.
Taking a hunting arrow from the quiver I nocked it before
wading back into the underbrush near the forest. I took my time carefully
search for the source of the stink. Without too much work I found the source
and for a moment my eyes tried to make sense of the brush covered bodies. When
the badly abused bodies formed into a rough whole in my mind, I hurriedly made
my way back out to the road and threw up. Once I had cleared my mouth with a
bit of water and my guts were yet inside of me I went back to look again.
This time I was slightly detached mentally, I was also slightly
angry and frightened, as someone or something had torn what looked to be a
family into bits. I noted a mixture of clean cuts and stabs and no few animal
marks where the forest was trying to reclaim the bodies. There was not a great
deal of blood on the grass so they had to have been drug there after being
killed. I bit tightly on my lip to keep from running back to the road again.
I don’t think I will be able to erase the memory of a little
girl’s gnawed face from my memory as much as I could wish. I did walk back to
the road and cleared my head for a few moments with a healthy belt of the
Meade. Part of me was loath to just leave the bodies there, yet I could not
risk that large of a fire in the woods. So in some ways I was glad to see a
small mounted patrol riding towards me.
When they approached I saw that they seemed to be some sort of
militia, as they were not wearing Kingdom colors but those of red and green,
likely a local lord’s men at arms. They were well equipped for fighting,
wearing a mixture of chain mail and studded leather. I made sure my demeanor
was not hostile as I waved them down; the last thing I wanted or needed was a
fight with the local forces.
“Have you a small shovel or tarp you could spare?” I asked as
they approached warily.
Their leader was a hard looking man who looked as if he had a
permanent scowl etched into his face over the years. He studied me for a moment
before speaking, “Not for you Elf.”
Wonderful, I could see I was going to have to dance carefully
with my words. “Well not so much for me, but the dead humans over there in the
woods,” I pointed in the direction with my empty hand.
“What!?” He all but roared at me, “If you…” he stopped himself
and pointed to the youngest of the four man group, “go check it out.”
I was slightly disconcerted to see the man draw his sword, “I
only found them a few moments ago.” I pointed to a bit further down the road
where my vomit was pooled. “I didn’t have the stomach for it either.”
One of the men rose up in his saddle to look where I pointed
then he chuckled, “Give the girl a break Vern, I can see a fairly messy puddle
from here.” He glanced to where the younger man was leaning out from his horse
and doing the same. “An it seems young Josh isn’t faring much better.”
Vern shook his head and sheathed his sword before dismounting.
“Sorry lass we have had a few rough bits with well equipped brigands.”
“Well equipped?” I asked feeling a frown drop into place.
“Chain mail, good swords and some decent clothes and boots, all
of the same cut and style.” He started leading his horse to a bush and tied the
reins to it.
“That sounds more like a mercenary group or raiders,” I frowned
again as he nodded.
“Yes, so you could say we are a touch upset about them,” he
added with some sarcasm.
The young soldier called Josh made his way to where we were,
looking pale and angry. “They cut them up, even the young girl.”
I took off my pack and freed the skin of Meade and passed it up
to the younger man, “Drink, it will help clear your mouth, if not take the edge
off of what you saw.”
He glanced to the Vern who nodded and then took a healthy
swallow, and then he blinked, “Thank you very much miss.” He smiled and I held
out my hand for the skin.
“How many would you say there are?” asked Vern.
“I counted about five two adults and three kids, one of them a
bit younger than he is,” I pointed to Josh. “The others were not very old.”
Vern spat in disgust and started removing a tarp from a
saddlebag, “How long would you say they have been there?”
I considered that, and then walked back to look at the brush
around the bodies. It took some concentration to ignore the mangled flesh and
the stench, but I some how managed to do that. I looked to my own few tracks
and then studied the area noting more than a few prints, I heard Vern moving
softly behind me as I moved from track to track.
“Well?”
I stood upright and sighed, “At least a good two days, as the
bodies are not completely torn apart by the animals. My guess is that it might
have been as early as late afternoon yesterday or as late as the night before
then.”
He snorted in derision, “You guess? I thought you elves knew
everything there was to tracking and such.”
I bit back on an angry retort and sighed, “Look I am only a
child compared to most of the B’radians I have known, I don’t have decades of
experience for that matter.”
“An elf that admits to her inexperience, will wonders never
cease?” he asked sarcastically.
I shrugged, “We all start somewhere. Though if you will call me
Jonne rather than elf, we might get along and through this day without our
various tempers being worn thin.”
“An elf by any other name is still an elf.”
“And a foul smelling human is still a dirty breeder,” I turned
to see him glaring at me. “So shall we trade insults all day or do you plan on
letting the dead molder?”
He frowned and spat in the dirt close to my foot. “I suppose we
can work on our insults while we tend to the dead.”
“What, not going to send me on my way?”
“Nope I figure you may as well enjoy the fun, if anything it
might be funny to watch you lose your guts.”
“You are a sick man.”
“I have my moments.”
--------------------
An hour or so later we were watching the pyre burn and I
counted myself lucky that I didn’t have to replace neither my shirt nor my
trews. Though I was longing for a bath to wash the smell of death from my hands
and nose. Vern was even less fun to be around by that time as well. I could
tell we were never going to be good friends as I think he merely tolerated me
in that I was not bashful about getting the dead taken care of.
“Well elf, I think it is time for you to be going. Now.” Vern
flicked a finger to my pack and to the road.
“And what of the bandits?”
“We don’t need no elf girl to show us the way, we can track
them well enough on our own.” He motioned to Josh, “Even he could do as well or
better than you, girl.”
For a moment I considered the odds on him finding the ten or so
men I had counted different tracks for. If they were half ways decent they
would not need my help, though I had to think they were a bit foolish. “Suit
yourself, so which lord do you belong to? Just in the off chance you should end
up like them?” I pointed to the fire.
“Just go little elf and leave the real work to men.” Vern
kicked a stone in my direction, “Git.”
I picked up my pack and fairly tossed it onto my back, “I’m
going, I’d offer a prayer for your health but you don’t need my help or theirs
evidently.”
“Right, now get moving,” he offered me a rude gesture and a
sardonic smile as I turned to walk away.
I sighed and turned to walk down the road, with luck the city
was only a day away and the people there would be nicer. I heard him laughing
and a few rude sounding comments were hurled in my direction. I did my best to
ignore him, though I will admit I was a feeling a bit angry. I was not sure I
liked my fellow man, if he was considered a representative of ‘men.’
I wasn’t sure exactly what to make of the bias I had
encountered in the past few days. First the Lieutenant at the river and now
Vern. So far I had only been truly a N’relv a few days and I was getting the
impression that some of the humans didn’t much care for us, their cousins. I am
sure there are a few Isolationists that can boast of no touch of N’relv blood
in their linage, but for the bulk of humanity as a whole, we are fairly mixed.
It was with some resignation I noted a second column of smoke
in the distance, either there was a second pyre burning or something much more
worrisome. I wasn’t too far from the men, not exactly in ear shot, but I
figured if I got their attention they might see the smoke too. I whistled
shrilly and waved my arms a few times to get their attention, when it seemed
like they were finally getting the drift as I was about ready to go kick them
in the ass.
I cannot say I was too surprised when they all but rode me down
in their haste to go in the direction of the fire. Though I am sure that Vern
was smiling when I was forced off the road cursing at him. With a few choice
epitaphs of my father’s phrasing, I sent them on their way wishing them a quick
trip to hell. Ok I wasn’t wishing them a trip to hell, but you likely could
guess the gist of it from my mood.
Forcing myself into an easy jog, I followed after them, maybe
not the smartest of plans, but since it was already on the way… I am not
exactly brave but if trouble was in my way I might as well see what was in my
way, right? In any case I was heading that way, so I either was going to help
or hide and watch the ‘men’ do it. I guess a part of me still burned from their
verbal abuse.
I stopped at a cut in the road and tried to decide just what
was going on. I was a good ways from the fight so I stepped into the woods and
dropped my pack, and then I twisted my ring. Yes I was going to be sneaky,
devious, and distinctly underhanded. For a moment I smiled and sent a quick
prayer to Fate, as it could not hurt. I think the gist of my prayer was,
“Confusion to my enemies.”
It was with an odd humor that I found myself watching Vern and
his men square off against a small skirmish line that out numbered him twice
over. I walked behind the enemy line and fired into the back of one man as he
tried to circle around to flank Vern. I took a few extra steps out of harms way
and selected another arrow, to Vern’s credit he and his men had struck down
three of the men that they faced. I nocked another arrow and jogged to where I
could cleanly strike down the one on the end.
I was feeling a bit detached or crazed, I could not determine
which as I loosed my second arrow into the back of the strange soldier. Yes
soldier for no brigand had any real skill in line warfare. Yet these men fought
with discipline, which was frightening as their silence. As my man fell the
last few formed a triangle. It suited me as it allowed me to place my next
arrow in the chest of the man that was watching their backs.
Falling a few steps back out of the fray, I looked further into
where the battle was raging. The main gate had been blocked with an overturned
cart and I could hear fighting inside the fort. I looked back to where Vern and
his men had triumphed; and they were eyeing the woods around the fort with some
suspicion. I followed their gaze to a line of horses and counted a rough two score of horses. We had accounted for not quite ten, which left a force of a bout
thirty give or take, still fighting.
Frowning darkly, I watched as Vern and his men moved into the
wood line. Part of me was disconcerted at their evident cowardice, yet part of
me wondered if they had the right of it. Though when the horses spooked and
started to run off, I smiled wickedly. Then I moved into the courtyard of the
fort, I saw a route up to the parapet that was free of fighters of either sort.
I wasn’t going to make any real difference in a bladed fight so I scampered up
to where I could shoot down into the fray as needed.
Vern and his men eased quietly into the open gate and then
started moving along one wall. As much as I didn’t like Vern, I had to admit he
was a fairly bright solider, as his movements would give no way for the enemy
to get behind him. I took a moment to check on an injured man, he was alive,
but only just. I looked for an ideal vantage point and saw none that suited me,
finding no decent cover, I was stuck invisible and thus as I was further from
my targets I was going to waste arrows.
I did gamble for a brief moment on visibility to try and
attract Vern’s eye. Not the smartest move as I also drew the eye of an archer,
twisting the ring and jumping left had saved me a solid skewering, though I did
keep an eye on that solider, so when fortune favored a clean shot I took
it. I watched with some satisfaction as a lucky shot sent the arrow into his
arm. It wasn’t a killing blow, but I was happy in that he was no longer
concerned about anything but his arm.
It was with an evident smirk that Vern shoved his sword into
that man’s backside; evidently he was in a good mood. I shrugged and selected
another arrow, Vern was motioning for me to look down, and as I did so I spied
a man crouched at the foot of the wall. My mood was definitely fey as I aimed
down at his head and fired. That time I was rewarded with the arrow sinking to
the quills in the shoulder of the man. I blinked a few times as he fell
silently.
With a thoughtful prayer to the Goddess in Danlin’s name: As I
was sure the bow I had traded him in partial purchase was certainly not that
good compared to this one. In war it is said only the losers are mindful of
fairness. It was with that thought that I hunted the enemy soldiers from above
and reduced Vern’s attackers as they presented the chance to me. Hardly fair
and sporting, yet the chance to strike back at the men that might be
responsible for the death of that family suited me.
Suddenly and with some consternation that I found myself
visible amongst a wave of vertigo. Someone was using magicks to even the odds.
‘Hardly fair’, I thought as I ducked down behind a water barrel. It took me a
few moments to find the magick wielder, yet he was fairly surprised as I stood
up and fired at him. I should remember that in my studies of magick to seek and
use only short spells. In some ways I was greatly relieved and amused when his
chanting was cut off abruptly.
Though I was still visible, a point that was brought home to me
when I felt a burning pain flare in my left shoulder. I fell back behind the
barrel and cursed fluently at my stupidity. I didn’t have time to bandage the
wound much less do more than break the shaft of the arrow away. I set my bow
off to the side and drew my rapier as a man charged down the parapet at me.
Standing up, I stepped back into a defensive stance and waited
for him to come to me. He smiled and slowed to an easy pace, I smirked and let
the tip of my blade float just above the ground. I studied his blade and smiled
wickedly as his was a short sword. I floated back another half a step and let
his abrupt charge guide my aim, as he essayed a blow that was largely defensive
I dropped into a lunge and used his momentum to drive the point of my blade
through his chain mail up and into his heart.
With a large retreating step backwards I tugged the blade from
his grasping fingers. I took a second step back and watched the life fade from
his eyes; I felt some odd happiness at being mostly intact and alive. Though
the point lodged in my shoulder reminded me that I was still ‘human’. I frowned
and touched the edge of the wound; I didn’t feel the wide edges of a hunting
arrow, so that left it as a hardened point or a pile arrow. In either case I
could tug it free without doing more damage.
Ducking back by the barrel, I used a dropped sack to wipe the
blade of the rapier clean as best I could. With a few false starts I managed to
sheath it, that didn’t make me happy, as I didn’t want to deal with shock on
top of everything else. I managed to only grunt in pain rather than screaming
as I tugged the sharp end of the arrow out of my shoulder. For a moment I saw
streaks of white light in my vision and a hint of gray. I took a few quick
breaths and forced myself to stay upright.
With some careful cutting I was able to use part of my sleeve
as rough bandage, not the best but it would have to do. I flexed my arm a few
times and sighed, I was not going to get a full draw anytime soon. In either
case leaving the bow behind was not a good option, I picked it up and eased it
over my shoulder. I took a moment to fiddle with the ring, it didn’t turn me
back to fully invisible when I did, but it did seem to be functional as my hand
winked out.
Standing up I eased around the barrel and past the man I had
killed but only a short few minutes ago. I drew my rapier and I did my best to
stay in the shadows, not that there were many to choose from. I think I must
have regained a hint of my senses, as I was quickly wondering what the blazes I
was doing here: That and wishing I was back to being invisible.
Still I was largely happy to find the sounds of the fighting
fading out, well mostly happy, as I was not sure who was the victor yet. I took
my time walking the parapet, looking for signs of who the victor was and other
possible rude surprises. When the men were shouting joyfully and seemed to all
be dressed in the same colors as Vern, I figured the fighting to be over. Still
I didn’t rush in to say how good it was to be alive, for all I knew Vern’s
attitude was prevalent among them.
Tiredly I sat upon the stairs leading up to the parapet; and
then I spent some time probing the wound. Feeling a bit off, I decided that
probing the wound was not going to be helpful as I started bleeding again.
Though once I got to my pack and used the various herbs and medicines I had
bought, wound fever was not likely to be a problem. Yet carrying my pack for a
time would be tough.
It was with some mild displeasure to find myself greeted by
Vern, “Nice work elf.”
“You don’t do so badly yourself,” I motioned to his blood
soaked uniform.
“All in a days real work.” He smirked at me, “I see you
forgot to duck.”
“Well that mage made things a touch annoying for me.”
He moved my bandage aside and nodded, “Well you are not
bleeding like a stuck pig, so you will live.”
“Your concern for my welfare is most touching,” I put my crude
bandage back in place and pressed on it with a frown.
He laughed loudly, and clapped me on my good shoulder, “Elf I
might come to like you.”
“The name is Jonne,” I complained at him.
“Well in any case looks like you will be our guest for a few
days. Least wise until the Lord shows up with a healer, can’t have you up and
haring off before you are at least able to shoot decently. Heaven forbid I
should let you wander off and starve to death.”
“Fine, so did you learn anything from the dead?” I asked
tiredly.
“Some, they are definitely foreign. That mage you shot babbled
some screwy language until I finished him. He’s got some odd looking books and
the damnedest of knives.”
“Cursed or be spelled so you don’t want to play with it in any
case.” I thought for a moment, “Did he have a small satchel with some herbs and
a book as well?”
“Yep a bundle of weeds and what not.”
“Great,” I sighed and was wishing for a better understanding of
what was marching into the Kingdom.
“You ran into one of these before?”
“Yeah I stopped what I thought was just a bunch of bandits in
Fair Tree’s Hallow. Ten in all, one of them was a mage like that one.
Fortunately for me they seem to spend a long time chanting their spells.”
“More running about shooting folks in the back?”
“What, you wanted me to stop and say ‘Hi, here I am shoot me?’”
I asked with a fair amount of sarcasm.
He snorted in laughter, “Right, still for an Elf you shoot
fairly well, but then I suppose you all do.”
I bowed slightly at the complement and chewed on my lip to stay
clear headed.
“So where did you leave your pack?”
“Looking to loot it?”
He shook his head, “Hardly, I got enough gold and what not from
the few I killed to keep me in ale for a while. I’ll send a few men to fetch
your pack here. Can’t have an injured girl out and in the way.”
“Your concern is touching.”
“Right,” he spat on the ground. “Still for an elf, you may not
be too bad Jonne.”
“And you are the epitome of all things human,” I snickered at
his briefly perplexed look.
“In any case, elf, you are our guest, so be grateful you are
not sleeping with the animals.” He pointed to a few men, “Give them some decent
directions to your pack and rest.
I managed to keep a retort from my lips and the other two men
chuckled as Vern went off to sort out the rest of the living.
“Don’t be too mindful of Vern, he’s been right grumpy with all
the raids.”
“So is he the headman for this fort?”
“He is at the moment, our Lieutenant isn’t likely to make it
past the night. Unless a healer gets here before then.” He shrugged, “War’s
fortunes miss.”
I nodded and told them were to look for my pack, as it was
still day I figured they’d have it in no time. I was tempted to go with them if
only to get to the brandy with the flowers in it that much sooner. Yes for all
my apparent stoicism I hurt, a lot.
------------------
Once I had bandaged my wound properly and took a swallow or
three of the brandy I had been steeping the dream flowers in, I lost a better
part of a day and the night. Though when I was finally and really awake, I was
without pain. I reached up to my shoulder to find it whole, I didn’t remember
it being healed, but then the rest of that day and night was but a dim blur. I
looked about the room I was in: It was empty aside from the few extra bunks
that, if I remember correctly held the wounded from the day prior. I was mostly
pleased to find my pack intact. Yet it seemed to have been sorted out and
neatly repacked for me.
That fairly irked me; as the map case and the letter from Fair
Tree’s Hallow, was sitting predominantly at the top of the pack. I suppose if a
strange warrior showed up and helped out I might want to know more about them,
but I doubt if I would stoop to digging in their stuff. I was heartened to find
my weapons neatly off to one side, and a few of my used arrows in the
quiver and the broken ones next to a few purses. Evidently some kind soul had
attempted to recover my arrows and had some luck, and I was pleased to note the
purses held more than just coppers. As I doubted Vern to be that unfair,
but having not claimed my own kills, I could not argue the splitting of loot.
I took a few minutes to claim the points from the broken arrows;
they were slightly tacky with blood, of which I stopped to check the few that
had been returned to the quiver. Those at least had been cleaned, I shook my
head and rechecked my rapier which was clean, yet had been seated firmly in the
sheath, of which I suppose some heavy handed person had checked to make sure it
was intact. It took some time with the wet-stone to take the nicks out of the
blade. As effective as chain mail is, it has a weakness, as that it is for the
most part, a series of linked holes.
Chuckling I shook my head, I remember when my one of my later
sword instructors mad a point of showing just how ineffective chain mail is
against stilettos and rapiers. One of my semi-tolerable friends had purchased a
good set and thought it made him invulnerable. He also had made the mistake of
saying that in earshot of my instructor. I still find it funny that my friend
had quickly changed his tune once the Instructor had lanced his buttocks with a
stiletto. While he didn’t wound the poor lad, much, he did get the point
across.
True, chain mail is good against slashing weapons and it is not
bad against spears and such, though you will still get hurt if the links give
way. Or if you take a crushing blow, maces, cudgels and the like are great for
flattening armor around it’s wearer. War hammers are just plain nasty against
some of the lighter armors, though not too effective against some other types.
The ways of warfare are numerous and messy.
The Mage Wars had reshaped armor as a whole, in that there were
no ‘singularly’ male or female styles of armor. Oh sure you could have a set
made anyway you liked and some folks had a set or two for show only, parades
and such like. Yet when it comes to a battlefield most if not all of the armor
is wearable by either gender with a few adjustments. Weapons had changed
somewhat in that the lighter weapons were more common, while you may be able to
swing a honking big great-sword with ease as a male, if you became a petite
female in the course of fighting you were in trouble.
I was slightly startled out of my reverie at Vern’s intrusion.
“So elf, are you in your right mind now?”
I sheathed my rapier with a grimace, “My name is Jonne.”
He chuckled, “Just making sure, for a time last night you only
answered to Lady or Revered Mother. I um, will not get used to that.”
“Get used to what Vern?”
“Seeing you glowing with white light and promising to rework me
into a ‘more personable being’ in my next life.” He shook his head, “I have
seen some damned odd things in my life, elf. Yet I find it unnerving when the
Gods and such walk around on the earth.”
“I don’t remember that,“ I said with a troubled smile. “Though
I think you may have gotten off lucky, she could have reworked you in this
life.”
“Oh I know, anyways elf, the Lieutenant and the Lord wants to
see you, if your ladyship is able,” he smirked at me as if I was in for
certain trouble.
“What not chasing me out with a scant thank you? Or a be on
your way?” I smiled at his look of annoyance.
“Well, if I had my ways, I would be sending your unnerving self
off with a kick. But since you saved a few folks lives, I guess that is out.”
He chuckled, “As it is, you fight fairly well when you are not shooting folks
in the back. So I can at least tolerate you, Jonne.”
“Be still my heart, is that how do you choose your friends? By
how well they fight or drink?”
“Well I have seen men drink, and you lass are no serious
drinker. So, I doubt I will find the need to take you carousing.”
I took stock in my appearance; I evidently had changed sometime
in the night. Fortunately I had dressed myself in travel clothes, so I should
expect to be off in the day. I doubted the Goddess was trying subtle to be
subtle about things, though I was not sure what to make of her healing people
while ‘borrowing’ my body. Though her Revered Mothers had said that her hand
was upon me, although I had not heard of them being overly friendly with a
blade.
“So should I be rushing out to find you a tailor so that you
might be properly dressed?” he asked with a wave to my clothes.
I sighed, “I have no idea Vern, I am as much in the dark as the
next man when it comes to her plans.” I indicated my attire, “Evidently
she likes me dressed this way.”
He nodded thoughtfully, “You do seem more made for war then a
temple, but then I never could figure out elves when it came to what they
thought as appropriate clothing.”
I shrugged as he did have a point the N’relv pretty much
dressed, as they wanted to and if you were to look at the B’radians. Well, even
they were individuals, though they favored a practical type of clothing much
like what I wore, in the field. I hazarded a guess that they were likely to be
flamboyant at home. “With weapons or without?”
“I have no idea, though I am likely to guess they want to see
you draw your bow. One of our lads tried it while you were um, indisposed. He
could only partially draw it.”
With a frown at his pronouncement I quickly rechecked my bow,
though it seemed intact, “Well it’s made of iron wood.” I drew it a couple of
times not seeing any difference in its action. I set it on the bed I was using
and belted my weapons about me and sighed, as I would have to replace the
stiletto in my hair much later. I tossed it lightly to the bunk and swung the
quiver lightly over my shoulder, and then I reclaimed the bow.
“Come elf, and see what you have wrought,” he was smirking at
me so I half ways dreaded what was to come.
------------------
What I had wrought turned out to be a lot of odd looks.
I am not sure what had occurred last night but evidently I must have been
spooky. The few men that watched me did so with a mixture of reverence and
fear, though they quickly looked away if they saw that I was looking at them.
Part of my mind was amused by the lack of reverence in Vern; I guess it takes a
bit more than the Goddess to shake him up. Though I was getting annoyed with
being called elf by Vern time and time again.
He led me into a small house that sat off to one side of the
fort, not to distant from it was a burnt out barn. I guessed that the attack
had been preceded with its fire, not a bad tactic. I glanced around for any
easy way to set fire to it and hazarded a guess that it had been fired by a
lucky flaming arrow.
I was slightly taken aback when the guard at the door saluted
Vern, then hurried to open the door and get out of our way. The scent of food
teased my nose and my stomach proclaimed it was well. Vern chuckled at the loud
rumble, and then led the way into a room where a variety of food was set. At
the head of the table was a man who looked a bit older than Vern, though when
he stood Vern braced at attention.
“My Lord I have fetched the N’relv as you have requested,” Vern
said as he roughly stood at attention.
The Lord was dressed in the same green and gray colors as his
men, though the trimming was silver. He had a baronial coronet with marked with
several fleur-de-lis and one unwinking red gem. His red hair was neatly tied
back in a warriors braid, and his gray eyes were hard set in his bronzed face.
Belatedly I bowed slightly not quite blushing in my currently unranked state.
He laughed deeply and bowed himself, “Not used to bowing I see;
in either guise.” He waved to Vern, and in a slightly rebuking tone of voice
added, “Vern as a lieutenant, you make a fine sergeant, where is your rank?”
It was amusing to see Vern abashed, “Sorry your Grace, I forgot
to put them on.”
The Lord rolled his eyes at me, “I take it you are called
Jonne, correct?” he asked me.
“Yes, your Grace.”
“Ah, good,” he motioned to the table, “sit and eat as you will,
I have a few questions for you.”
I walked to an empty chair and after resting my weapons beside
it, sat neatly in it. A few glances at the other faces of the table presented
another lieutenant who was eyeing me with a smile on his face. When I smiled
back I was surprised to see him blush deeply.
“You may not remember the good Lieutenant, but I have no doubts
he will never forget you miss. Being as you pulled him back from his few steps
into the long dark. May I present Mister Franklin, I am sure you are slightly
familiar with these other ruffians.” He said the last bit with a warm tone of
voice.
I nodded as I recalled the faces if not the names of the men
with Vern the day prior, “And you are good sir?”
“His most abundant and royal self, is called Lord Mark Hawthorn
the Second,” he smiled and added in a tone of pure self-mockery. “Not to
mention a darned nice but ever so lowly and distant heir to the throne.” He
smirked at Vern; “I also lead this rabble with along other units from time to
time.”
I had to think through the family tree for a few moments then
wanted to kick myself a few times. I faintly remembered him as being related to
me, though I could not recall seeing him at court more than a time or two, when
I was much, much younger. I covered my uncertainty by tucking a napkin where it
would save my clothing if I should drop something. To be honest how did one
greet a cousin who, if I read things correctly might be a better heir
than I was?
“Ah, so you would be a likely candidate for the throne should
the worst befalls the King? Goddess forbid that should happen.”
“Not as such, nor would I want to see a goodly many of those
ahead of me perish. I have my hands full keeping these ruffians and such in
check when things are dull.” He lifted a cup and saluted “May the King and his
Heir live forever.”
I hastened to lift my own glass and responded with the others,
“To the King.”
“So Jonne, I have seen that you are quite the archer.” I am not
sure if his tone was mocking or not as he seemed to shift from humor to
seriousness from sentence to sentence.
“I do fairly well, “ I admitted, “though a great many of my
cousins are much better.”
“Not given to tout your own skills?”
I finished the bite of chicken I was working and then shook my
head, “Not overly much, I learned some time ago that eventually I would be
forced to eat squab if I could not live up to my own claims.”
“Better to keep silent and be thought a fool, than to speak and
remove all doubt?” asked Mister Franklin as he cored a small apple.
“That or be thought to be mysterious,” I said.
Vern shook his head, “Never met an elf that was not
mysterious.”
I replied with a slight shrug as Vern sat not quite in kicking
distance
“Vern please, I know you have issues with the N’relv, but at this
table do be polite,” commanded Lord Hawthorn with a hint of steel in his voice.
I was amused to hear Vern make apologies or attempt to, I waved
a hand at him, “Peace Vern, if I was truly offended, you would know of it.”
Lord Hawthorn laughed loudly, “Of that I have no doubt.”
At which Vern colored darkly and sighed, “Sorry Jonne.”
“So Jonne what brings you into this corner of the realm?” asked
the Lord.
I was about to answer when a Priest of the Truth walked in from
an adjoining room. I noted his stark white robes and the staff of his office.
Though I suppose the most outstanding feature he possessed were his eyes, they
were all white as if covered with a film. He moved as cautiously as one who
might be blind yet when he moved to sit in a chair unguided he seemed to see.
“Yes I am curious to that as well child, I am Prior Paul Atakin.
At your service.” He bowed to me as he sat opposite of me.
Wonderful I would have to be doubly careful of my speech and of
which truths I could speak, as it was impossible to lie in front of such as he.
“I am chasing riddles and mysteries,” I finally answered.
I watched the Prior digest that and frowned when he shook his
head slightly. “The truth, yet not all of it.” He chuckled, “Jonne correct?”
“I am called that,” lovely, I so did not want to have
this conversation.
“Again, not the whole truth,” he picked up an apple and a knife
then with a deliberate hesitation he sliced the apple into half without cutting
his hand.
I took a sip of wine and shrugged, “Truth be told, I cannot
give you a fairer answer without placing myself and a great many others at
risk.”
“Ah she so does speak truth,” he smiled and sliced a thin slice
from the apple. “Relax child no one here, wants to see you come to harm. Our
host is a honorable man and is not likely to speak without reason.”
I noticed his slight hesitation on the word ‘here’ and frowned.
“It is those who are not here and may yet hear, that I worry about.”
Vern spoke in the brief silence, “Riddles don’t sit well with a
meal.”
“She was not speaking plainly nor was she presenting us with
more of riddle than her presence,” I was growing even more wary as the Prior
dissected my words.
“I could order you to speak the truth, and see that you spoke
under pain if need be,” commented the Lord with a dry tone of voice.
My stomach tightened horribly and I really wished then that I
had my coronet, so that I could merrily trounce this conversation, yet as being
Jonne I had no authority. “I think it would be an error for you to do so
cousin,” I addressed the Lord with a faint smile.
“Ah, truth though shaded.”
I took a sip of wine and smiled tightly, “Here is a truth for
you: I am not a peasant, yet I am forced to live as if one. My rank, as events
have shown me, is empty and all pleasure I would seek is but dust if I don’t
walk my path.”
“Truth, laced with bitterness and loss.”
“You ranked, how so?” asked Vern with a frown.
“Greater than your Lord, but less than the King.” I sighed,
“Though that was then and this is now.”
“Again the truth,” I watched the Prior select a portion of meat
and neatly spear it with a fork.
The Lord was looking into his cup with a frown, “Prior, is she
sane?”
“Yes.” He chuckled, “I would know if she were not so.”
‘Lovely’ I thought, as here I was trying to sort out how to
delicately avoid telling the whole of the truth or without landing in a padded
cage or a gilded room. I took a few moments to enjoy a few bites of my meal;
the Lord’s cook was a fine one. “I would much prefer to be less sane and what I
was, than sane and what I am.”
“A mix of truths, some more true than others.”
“So Jonne if you had a name, would I know of it?”
“Yes, most assuredly,” I nearly laughed aloud as the Prior
tried to speak with a mouth full, after a moment of chewing he gave up and
nodded.
“I see from your travels that you were near the Colors Campus.”
“Near is a relative term.”
The Prior looked at me with a frown, “Misdirection.”
“Would you have been near it, say less two weeks ago?”
“I traveled though there, yes.”
“Truth with odd undertones,” he seemed to give up his meal and
focused entirely on me.
“Jonne speak the whole truth, please. You are not departing
here until I am satisfied.” The Lord had set his cup on the table and I heard
the sound of a sword leaving its sheath from behind me.
“You may not be satisfied with the truth,” I speared the Prior
with a gaze.
“Try me,” commented the Lord.
Drinking down a portion of the wine to stall somewhat; I
studied the remains of it for a moment before choosing my words. “You may
regret knowing the truth,” I smiled at him feeling more than a bit odd.
The Prior started to speak then closed his mouth as the Lord
stood up, “Enough riddles girl.”
“Ah, but riddles are all that I can truly call my own.” I
smirked at him, “And the truth, of which you are so fond of, is something you
are not ready for.”
He rested both of his hands on the table and leaned on them as
his face flushed, “I will have my answers now.”
I snorted in amused annoyance, as it was a sad irony that I
could not use my real name or rank, as I have never much cared to be ordered
about. “Fine you want to know unpleasant truths then know this: A Mage King is
coming and you have no real authority over me.”
“She speaks the truth,” the Prior paled at his own
pronouncement, “but how do you know this?”
“The Goddess told me,” I shrugged as he nodded slowly. I turned
to look at he Lord who was now sitting in his chair and looking troubled, “So
how does the truth taste cousin?”
He speared me a foul glance, “I think I know you now, cousin.”
He shook his head and looked to the guard, “You are dismissed.”
I heard the sheathing of a sword and the click of heals before
the soldier departed. “As much as I have enjoyed your cooks efforts, I have
need to be on my way.”
“Prin…” he stopped at my up raised hand.
“Jonne,” I stated before he could continue.
“Jonne,” he shook his head, “a great many people are looking
for you.”
“They look for the Heir which suits me and the task the Goddess
has set me.” I motioned to the Prior, “Is his mark of office an honest
one or one like mine was?”
“Some truths are best untold, but yes, his is honest.” He
looked at me warily, “How did you find out?”
“She told me,” I pointed upwards with a grimace.
“Ah,” he shook his head and then looked upwards with an odd
smile.
“What are you two talking about?” asked the Lord with a tired
sigh.
“Things best left unsaid cousin. Suffice it to say: I have the
Mage Gift and by the laws of the Land, I will never rule.” It took a few
moments for my words to sink in, at his frown I added, “This is not to be
bandied about in idle conversation, just yet.”
“No I should say not,” he frowned and pointed a finger at me,
“does your family know?”
“I am not sure, I expect the Lady might tell them at some time
or not. In either case I have a long journey ahead of me.”
“Where are you going, surely if a Mage King is coming you are
in danger?”
“Hither and yon, I am going to solve an ancient riddle or
rather ten riddles,” I held up my hand with the two rings on it, “then with
luck I will stop him or her.”
“No, seriously Jonne, what are you going to do?” he asked with
a hint of incredulity in his voice.
“Seriously cousin that is what I am doing.” I shrugged,
“I go as I have been tasked, it’s not like I can do else wise and hope to see
the Land prosper.”
He did not look too happy with my answer, “So what would you
have me do?”
“I can only suggest that you build up your forces and be
as ready as you can for all hell to break loose. I don’t think these raiders
are here by accident, do you?”
“No, and if you are right we’ll see more than we like of them,”
he looked at his men who seemed to be mostly on the uptake.
Vern was looking as if he had stepped in something smelly, so I
asked him, “Problems Vern?”
“I suppose I should hand over my rank now?”
“For what, being rude?” I smirked, “You were rude to Jonne, a
person without rank or title. As such she can’t suggest anything to affect
that; but you might not press your luck further.”
He grunted and seemed to think for a moment, “But you are the…”
he stopped as I shook my head.
“No Vern, that person is far from here and going the totally
opposite direction.” I smiled and pointed off to the direction of the Capital,
“Though if folks look for him, they will not find him, magick is funny that
way.”
“Never did like mages,” Vern commented with some rancor.
“Then count yourself lucky that you can’t go traipsing across
the wilds with a crazy N’relv girl.”
“You should have a guard,” interjected the Lord.
“Fate herself, has said otherwise, I had a friend offer
to come and she made it quite clear that I was to go alone,” I said
sourly.
“Jonne, I am not comfortable with this. If your father were to
hear of it, I’d be assigned to some unpleasant and distant posting.”
“The choice isn’t your cousin, its mine, I made it. I will live
or die by it.” I pointed to the Prior, “Since some truths are best untold, for
the good of the land; I suggest this days events be added to that list.”
“For the good of the Land, my brothers will know of it though
as He does listen,” he motioned upwards.
I shrugged, “As long as they don’t talk of it, it cannot be
overheard.”
“True.”
------------------
Vern was very happy to see me off as in, out of his command
post and down the road. The Lord had taken it upon himself to write me a letter
of merit, “If in such case you can’t establish your good character without the
aid of the Powers.” Vern’s opinion of my good character, well I doubted
my being fully N’relv sat well with him. Part of me longed to find out what had
put a bug up his bung about the N’relv, though I had a hunch it was likely one
of those tales that needed a lot of drinking to be done before it would be
told.
Mister Franklin had presented me with stout hunting knife that
was not quite a short sword to my hands, as a thanksgiving gift for saving his
life. I had tried to not take it but he insisted saying that “You can never
have too many good blades.” I measured the blade as being almost as long as my
forearm, it was quite sharp and the metal was filled with many wavy lines,
which told of some creative forging. Fortunately I was able to tie it to the
side of my quiver, as the scabbard would have flapped at my side.
So it was well past mid-day when I was finally a few miles into
the woods and heading north again. With luck by the end of the day I should be
back on a road heading into Anwerk. In some ways I much preferred the cooler
forest to the road, other than I had to concentrate on my direction more. As
you simply cannot read intently while walking in a forest, and avoid bashing
yourself into a tree or three in the process.
Dusk found me yet in the forest, which I should have expected,
given the map I was using. At least it was not marked with an annotation that
said, ‘Here be monsters.’ Though the scale of the map was really in question or
my pace was much slower than I had thought. I did not seem to be having
any trouble moving in the forest, aside from having to going around some large
deadfalls.
Though I was happy to stop and make camp for the night, and get
the pack off of my back. The forest was slightly dry and while a fire might not
be a hazard, risking it seemed a bad idea. In practice during the day I had
blown up a few dozen twigs without much progress in making a real flame. Though
I have to admit the concept of instant fire without the use of a flint and
steel or a spinning stick would be handy. After a cold supper of some of the
ham and a few mushrooms, I rolled myself into my blanket and slept.