Hours later the sun began to sink below the horizon and Tic came on deck to man the tiller so Tia could rest. He froze in place as he noticed the fires scattered across the countryside, creating an eerie reddish glow amongst the small scrub trees of the barren land shrouded with mist.

  “What is it?” he asked, almost fearful.

  “It is to honor the king. He was the high king of all of the elven people so they will mourn for a ten day before they take up their bows.”

  “Is that an elf?” Tic asked and pointed toward some scrub where stood a man like Tia had never seen before, so in her mind it very well could be an elf. He was very short, but about the same height as the dwarfs she had seen back in Lemure, only slighter. He sat motionless upon a mount that looked like the mountain goats she had seen in pictures. He wore a brimless, brightly-colored hat in orange or possibly faded red…she couldn’t be sure in this light and he smoked a long straight pipe.

  “Good eyes, Tic, those buggers are hard to spot unless you look right at them. No, that is not an elf. His name is Pomen, he is the warden for the area north of Bjorvic.”

  “Isn’t this Bjorvic?” Tia asked.

  “No, Bjorvic you will know by the trees, this is the sea steppes. The sea swells so high here that it covers this land completely some years and keeps the ground from producing anything beyond brush and lokai.

  “He’s motioning us over,” Tia said and spun the skiff over to the shore hoping that it wasn’t too shallow. Much to her horror, the goat leaped when she was still twenty feet from shore and deftly as a cat landed on top of the railing before descending to the deck.

  “Well met, Pomen.”

  “Well met, Thorvald, looks like you have gained a handicap. It is not a good time to be wounded, my friend,” the Warden said in a surprisingly deep voice that sounded as if he was ready to break into a rhythmic melody, his tone carrying a type of hum to them that was almost musical.

  “I cannot in truth recall a time when it was good to be injured, Pomen. what brings you so far east?”

  “I heard the boot makers were coming and I wanted to see what you plan on doing about the elves’ war.”

  “Me, I am only one man, Pomen. Frost piners are free people. None of us have formed into tribes or clans, we are free and therefore make up our own minds.”

  “I am aware of this, Thorvald…but they listen to you and will follow you.”

  “That may be, Pomen, but I do not want them all setting up camp at my home, for that is where I will be. Now sit and talk to me for a bit while one of these lovely boot makers fills your order.”

  “They are already made and stored down in the cabin. Rowen told me so just a month past when he traveled through here.”

  “I think that there is a box down there with your name on it, come to think of it. Let me go see,” Tia said as Tic was now steering. She headed down stairs and the diminutive man looked at Tic with wise, knowing eyes.

  “Can I hitch a ride with ya, young man? The Bjorvic territories will compensate you for your troubles.”

  “Sure they will; their terms, their price,” Thorvald mocked.

  “Stifle!” Pomen snapped and turned back to Tic with a slight smile. “Too big for their own good, I tell ya, just a bunch of oafs.” He smiled again and awaited his answer.

  “Yes, of course. You have to sleep in shifts if you want to sleep below deck,” Tic said not worrying about the money.

  “Down there?” he said as if it were the most impossible thing that could ever occur. “No, Gi’noo and I will curl up opposite of the fat guy here to try and balance the boat out a bit.” He side-eyed Thorvald with a smirk who suddenly roared with laughter. He walked over and started removing the tack from his mount. Tic didn’t believe that Pomen and his goat were even close to the weight of Thorvald.

  “So, what is moving out there right now, Pomen, is it as bad as it sounds?”

  “Worse, I am afraid. Lindrow was killed in a most cowardly fashion, black magic if ever there was.”

  “I have heard that the dwarfs were fighting off raids down in their southern reaches, one being just ten miles from Riverhouse,” Thorvald said more to let Pomen know where his information stopped than to add any input. It was a conversation ritual performed unconsciously between men familiar with each other and had been occurring for thousands of years.

  “True, they found some very distasteful things tucked in amongst the trees. The elven twins are in the western Bones trying clean out the riff raff amongst the peaks there. Riverhouse sent out ranger parties when it got too heated, even bringing in the apprentices to cover more ground as well as calling in more of their own from Smith Town to prepare for bigger conflicts, but there ain’t been much yet.”

  “Blast it!” Thorvald scoffed. “Now they will be upping the rates again.”

  “Already done. Twenty-five percent last month with a warning that if they have to get more security, they may have to up it more,” Pomen said, his voice calm, which seemed to be a standard for him when he was not scolding a frost piner.

  “Twenty-five percent? Smith Town will never pay that.”

  “They are though, Smith Town is hungry right now and they are taking everything from the big fir like you have here, to aspen and ash while they wait for the harvest to begin. The warm winter last year is affecting more’n just the piners I’d say.”

  “Yeah, last year was a slow year for frost pine. There were some smaller ones harvested way up north, but their sap content only warranted three quarter price. Probably for the best though, dang near doubled our price.”

  Tia came up on to the deck then with the box and Pomen sat down with a fresh pair of socks and started to take his old ones off.

  “I’m going to need some work done on these and possibly a heavy dose of water proofing.”

  “I’d say a good cleaning and a couple of layers of mink oil will do it nicely,” Tia replied.

  “Mink oil? No, use this,” he said and dug a leather-wrapped glob from his pack and opened it up for Tia to see.

  “It’s a pretty color,” she said commenting on the baby blue hue of the greasy substance. “What is it?”

  “It’s lokai oil from Lilieack. It lasts many times longer than mink and doesn’t smell like anything that could be considered prey.”

  “Lokai, hmm? I hope I see one someday.”

  “You’ll regret those words, little lady. They are vile beasts with a nasty disposition, but they have nice pockets of fat that render into usable product.”

  “They don’t taste so bad either if’n ya leave em rare,” Thorvald added. “So tell us more, what’s is happening and do I need to sharpen my ax?”

  “You should always keep your ax sharp my friend, especially these days.”

  18

  Mourning

  I still can’t believe that he is gone. Lindren looked at the pyre for a long time internalizing his pain and fear.

  I want to remember everything about him but there is so much. Too much; no, never too much…you can never have too much. Dovelin, who had hardly spoken in the last two days, stayed by his side until the body was returned home, she would return with the kings belongings in the morning. Now they would have a proper ceremony for his father, Lindrow, King of Lilieack High King of the Elves. Lindren mourned, but he was also filled with dread. He feared what it would take from him to rule Lilieack, as was his birthright, which he personally considered to be his birth curse. Lindren never had a desire to be king of anything and greatly feared that he would fail at it if for no other reason than lack of interest. He was so grateful that he would not be the High King of their people as that would be decided by the council of elves from all elven cities and the council would never choose one so young and inexperienced as he. The city was likely more than the young elf could handle on its own. Would that his older brother Deif could have smoothed things with his father, then Lindren wouldn’t have been considered for the position.

  He took a step forward as low chanting flowed from the crowd, smooth, like silk forming a constant hum, torch flames seeming to dance with the vibrations of the legato. He looked to Venalane, the first general of Noril who stood upon the western side of the pyre and nodded.

  “With great sadness I represent Noril in this time of sorrow. I have come to pay honor to the Great King, may his message move forward.”

  Lindren almost cocked his head in confusion of this last comment, but abstained. Message? Father had a message? He took another step forward and looked to the king of Pine Hold who stood off to the east of the pyre and gave him a nod. He silently wondered if he had news of the twins.

  “It is with heavy heart that I come to bid farewell to my greatest cousin, friend, and king…Lindrow. May his dreams find their own wings. May you rest in peace knowing that we will carry your legacy into the future. Our ancestors are proud of how you lived, may the rest of the world feel the greatness of your freed soul as it spreads across the land. May your warmth bring early spring abundant with new life and may the memory of your goodness bring enlightenment to the world. Good bye my cousin, my friend, my king.”

  Lindren was again surprised. Dreams? What dreams did his father have? He simply ruled, did he not? He took the final step and laid the torch upon the kindling at the base of the pyre.

  “My life is blessed, through you,” he said, which was a very typical elven phrase said by son’s at their father’s funeral and could only be determined by the emotion with which it was said, to say more would be gauche.

  What were your dreams and what is your message? His mind screamed for answers but he would not get them today. He looked down upon the fire that started to grow, savoring its heat for a minute before he rejoined his wife. He saw the lesser fires start to spring up in the distance as well. Fires would burn for the king for ten days all the way to Smith Town and beyond, for it was a tragedy that affects all people whether they know it or not.

  Tonight, they would feast in his honor as they said goodbye while watching the fire that consumed his father’s body.

  * * *

  The monk solemnly moved to the open space around the pyre. “Through fire our spirit covers the world so that they should know our grief. Hailing to all; the value of a great life, a life worthy of his name and the legacy that was left for him. Through loss we feel the value of lives loved.”

  * * *

  For ten days they would prepare and bring in a new king to lead the elves and it would be done without Lindren’s input. Lindren had taken advantage of his youth by passing off his mantle for office, by placing his trust in a steward who would rule in his stead. The councils had strongly encouraged it, they don’t enjoy having kings under two hundred years old and Lindren was barely half that. They had one on record of being a mere one hundred and fifty who was eventually deposed for various reasons. Needless to say, it was encouraged that he spread his wings for fifty or sixty years before taking the throne, and he agreed. At least if things would have been different, he would not have agreed, but his twins were missing. He and Dovelin were going into the wilderness as they had in their youth to find those who were lost.

  * * *

  Juin looked out on the empty city lamenting the loss of so many. Over a hundred souls were rescued, but close to a thousand had lived here. The three sprints that had been rescued were already sent off with payment to warn other cities and notify his father about the state of current events. The survivors spoke of hundreds of trolls and giants mixed with thousands of muridai that overwhelmed Pine Hold two days prior. No one even knew they were in the area, when suddenly they were in the city attacking everyone from the dark.

  This was highly unusual as elves are notorious for patrols and knowing their surrounding forests as well as their own homes. Daylight would fill the woods with elves from such a city, leaving no chance of a surprise attack.

  So where did they come from? Where had they hidden to enact this treacherous attack?

  He scanned the terraced gardens, turning brown already from the violations suffered by such crude beasts. Apartments backed the gardens, showing broken doors and shattered windows, balconies half torn off.

  “Such wanton destruction,” he said in exclamation to Jiar, a city council member of Pine Hold who had been awaiting his turn on the pyre. It was obvious they had intended to leave no survivors.

  “Such is the way of the vile,” he replied knowingly to the much younger elf.

  “What do they want? They won’t even parlay with us,” Juin said with his arms outstretched palm up.

  “I don’t know, but they had a religious fervor about them that was disheartening.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They chanted, as they attacked they chanted and seemed to count as they killed…like they were keeping some kind of tally. Even the burning was very ceremonial and methodical as you saw.” The council member hung his head in regret. There was no shame for him because he and his entire family, which was now dead, fought bravely. They killed many until they were just overwhelmed. He was dampened by grief as well as overwhelmed by hate, silently he swore to feed that hate until every one of the vile creatures was dead.

  “So, what’s your next step?” Juin asked, suspecting that he was the only form of leadership they were going to get.

  “The king will return after they honor the death of your grandfather.” Jiar paused giving him a meaningful look.

  “I know; I should be there. I was advancing on an army in the far western Spires when we heard the horn and lost a lot of elves getting out. My sister was taken and we are just making our way back home now. My father would never forgive me if I just left you to your fate, so you will have me and my men until the king and his entourage returns.”

  “We can use the help; I appreciate it, young prince,” Jiar said before walking off to some predetermined destination.

  Pine Hold was a forest community and didn’t require horses. They did keep adequate stables for visiting armies and their own light use up on the plateau. Whatever of Pine Hold’s steeds were there had been taken and or killed. Juin’s own mounts filled up the pasture that gave their mounts a much-needed break, though they too remained on edge from the scent of the blood and smoke from the ruined city. He would not leave them unguarded and opted to take the bunkhouse by the stables for him and several of his people so he could stay on hand in case things went south.

  He stood at the outside rail watching as the night set around him. He saw the tall spires of the Rachis to the south and the cliffs and crags to the north and he wondered again how this city could have been taken by surprise by such a large force.

  It just isn’t possible. Yet, it was possible…it in fact happened and he was determined to find out how.

  Maggie’s familiar nicker caught his attention and he turned to rub behind her ear when he froze. Her ears were pointed stiffly forward and her stance was posted up toward the woods. Something was out there.

  It didn’t take long to find the source of the horse’s distress. Though their fire was shielded and they kept their gruff voices low, any elf would have known their location as soon as they entered the woods.

  “Why are you so nervous, Blunt?” a gruff voice asked just above a whisper.

  “It’s all of these trees. A person can’t hear or see anything. A flock of lokai could swoop down on us at any time.”

  “A flock? A flock you say? Lokai travel in packs, you idiot, birds travel in flocks and lokai don’t fly.”

  “They ain’t wolves, fool,” another gruff voice said before spitting a big wad of something into the fire they had gathered around.

  “Well if they ain’t wolves, what is they? Snakes maybe? What do ya call a whole mess a snakes?” the first one asked.

  “A knot,” one of them said and they all broke out laughing only to be shushed down by the elder of the group.

  “Hey, Bobbick,” one of the younger ones asked of the older one. “What do you think we are going to find there?”

  “Well,” the old one started and paused. “We know by the smoke that sumthun happened, by the silence surrounding us it was sumthun bad. If my sniffer is still good, I’ll tell ya that I smelled meat on that fire and it wasn’t something that good folk would want to be eating. So we’re either going to find a whole mess of dead elves, a horde of giants trying to live in elf homes, or some good folk who are really going to need our help.”

  “How do you know it was giants? What if it was them mer radi people?” the young one pressed.

  “Muridai, they’s called muridai and they is only a myth. Ain’t nobody ever seen one so don’t go getting yourself all worked up over somethin nobody’s ever seen before.”

  “I’ve seen one,” Juin said as he stepped into the clearing causing the five dwarfs to jump to their feet with all manner of melee weapons in hand. “I have seen many actually and they attacked here in force. My guess is that you have seen them too, but mistook them for men.”

  “It looks like you done survived alright though,” the one called Bobbick said and Juin just shook his head slowly.

  “No, master dwarf, it did not go well for the elves here. I arrived this afternoon to find over a thousand of my brothers slaughtered. We managed to kill their rearguard and rescue about a hundred, but they are in sorry shape and could use some help, a lot of help.”

  “Well then, it looks like we are just in time to do some good. I am Bobbick, son of Bobber of the line of Levanthian of the Smith Town Levanthians. I am a commissioned ranger from Riverhouse out on a training mission with these four.” The dwarf indicated the four others , who now that he saw them closely, were at least twenty years Bobbick’s junior.

  “To be honest, we have quite a mess here.”

  “Well, we can’t help with that but we can help y’all get cleaned up a might. There is a semi-fore station just a half day down, I’ll go down and signal the guild house in Riverhouse. We’ll get a mess of rangers up here and get some things taken care of for ya,” Bobbick said enthusiastically. Juin didn’t know if he should accept the offer in lieu of a lack of formal leadership in Pine Hold. He finally decided there was a lot to do and the more hands the better.