Month: May 2025

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

Duilhac

They arrived at Peyrepertuse a few days later with the smell of spring in the air and the sun shining. To Ala, the city was a spectacular sight. Thetwick had only just grown from a village to something that might, with some imagination, be described as a town. In comparison, the massive and ancient granite walls of Peyrepertuse castle with each tower many times the height of the highest building in Thetwick, which was the squat meeting hall tower, was overwhelming. The castle stood on a steep hill beyond the walled town of Duilhac, which was surrounded by a high and thick city wall sprawling out from the foot of Peyrepertuse, making the image even more impressive. It was construction at a scale and density that Ala couldn’t ever remember seeing before. Even her vague memories of what must have been elven cities felt less densely packed than Peyrepertuse and Duilhac.

As they rode down the opposite bank of the river towards the town, they could clearly see the way Peyrepertuse’s fortifications dominated the city, looming over Duilhac and all approaching travellers. No one riding into Duilhac could ever doubt where the power was concentrated, your eyes were magnetically drawn to mighty Peyrepertuse. Somewhere in her mind, a memory of soaring white towers tugged at Ala, a sight that felt like it had been even greater than the walls filling her view. As usual, she couldn’t remember when or where it had been or even or who she had been with. Peyrepertuse, the Duke’s huge castle perched on the flat topped steep hill that overlooked the town of Duilhac. The slopes were terraced into small fields and the the town below was built in a meander in the river. It had two bridges leading to it, each with a complex barbican guarding entry and a gatehouse on the far bank. The landward approach was guarded by Peyrepertuse and the hill it sat on top of. It was a well defended town with multiple good water supplies, a river port and some room to grow crops and keep livestock within the walls on the slopes under Peyrepertuse.

For safety’s sake, Ala and Myrthe had rented a spare horse from the rather unpleasant Caravan Master and left the wagons behind that morning, riding hard for the city. They had agreed that they didn’t want to come in simultaneously with the caravan because if someone had set a crossbowman the task of shooting Ala, it would be the caravans they would be on the lookout for. They had ridden round to the far bridge on the eastern side of the town, making sure they were approaching from the wrong direction for travellers from the direction of the Westmarch. They approached the barbican, where two guards stood. Each wore a chain hauberk which was covered by a surcoat with colours that reminded her of the Duke’s but weren’t quite the same. Each man wielded a long pike, had a shield slung across his back and a short-sword at his waist.

“Those aren’t the Duke’s colours,” Ala said, wondering aloud why that might be.

“Huh? Oh… the city has its own charter.”

“How does that work?”

“The Duke granted the burghers a number of rights, in exchange for a taxation agreement. The city has its own charter, so also its own colours and coat of arms. Those men are City Watchmen, employed by the city council, not the Duke’s men-at-arms.”

“Oh I see, I think one of the sisters at the temple in Thetwick tried to describe this once, it didn’t make much sense at the time. Your explanation is easier to understand.”

“I’ll grant that who exactly is what isn’t the most intuitive thing on Vatan. Particularly when you start throwing in things like the Ducal Regiment and a few religious orders.”

“I think I understand the difference between the regiment, men-at-arms and knights. Don’t think I’ve ever seen members of a religious order.”

“Mainly Mars, in Taladaria, their priests are all effectively Knights too. Though not necessarily noble and so on. The permutations are endless. I once tried to remember all of it but gave up.”

They guards were observing the stream of people entering and leaving the city, not showing any particular interest in their duties. Most people passed with just a nod to the guards. As Myrthe and Ala approached, one of them stepped into their path.

“Hold there you two. I need to see your right to bear arms, gir… elf?”

She was on the caravan’s charter still, but the caravan master was still half a day up the road. So, Ala produced the parchment Myrthe had written and signed. Ala showed it to the guard, who screwed up his face in the way that people who couldn’t read or read well enough always seemed to.

“Right, sorry, milady. It’s the rules, the two of you must dismount and go and show that to the clerk in the gatehouse.”

There were several children milling about, looking for ways to make money off passers by. Ala selected two, and offered them each an eighth to look after Fulgor and the rental horse, to be paid when they returned. She wasn’t taking any chances with Fulgor. An agreement was reached and Ala and Myrthe went into the gate house.

“Somehow, I doubt that my father would be asked to go talk to a clerk,” Myrthe whispered as they went inside.

The passed through a short entrance hall and two thick wooden doors into a stuffy room with a table, a chair and a cabinet overflowing with scrolls and ledgers. There was a man in a black robe seated at the table, seemingly engrossed in a large ledger that was open in front of him. He was dressed as a commoner, but he wore a pin which Ala guessed must be a badge of office for a clerk in the city’s employ. He was gaunt and mostly bald, with a comb-over. When he spoke, Ala could see that his two front teeth were missing.

“What do you want?”

Ala wondered if the man’s manner had anything to do with his missing teeth before she spoke.

“This is Myrthe Lambertye, Priestess of Guanshiyin and Lady of Easthall. I am her guard. My name is Alagariel. Here is the document affirming it.”

The thin man looked them over then at the document.

“That seems to be in order…”

He turned the large book to a different section and painstakingly entered Myrthe’s name on a line. It was easy to see what he wrote. Ala couldn’t help but admire the man’s handwriting.

Myrthe Lambertye, Lady of Easthall and one elf-at-arms

He wrote before looking up at them again with a scowl. Ala had to suppress a giggle, she’d never imagined she might one day be someone’s elf-at-arms.

“It’s a silver per man-at-arms, err milady. And you,” he said, gesturing at Ala, “will have to peace-tie your blade, here”.

He slid a small bundle of thick red string over the table.

Ala paid the man the silver coin. Being a noble was expensive, she thought. She knew about peace-ties. Cities like this generally required them to make it slightly harder to draw weapons on one another. There were whole treatises on how to tie the associated knots in such a way that they didn’t hinder drawing your weapon at all. There was even a section on the subject in her Fechtbuch. Unfortunately, it was not one of the skills Alagariel had deemed worthy of teaching herself. The result was that the clerk securely tied her weapon into her scabbard, to her chagrin. She was very careful to make sure he didn’t touch the pommel, she didn’t want to have a repeat of what had transpired in the council hall in Thetwick. Whatever had happened there, It would be very hard to explain a suddenly dead clerk. She decided she needed to learn some of those special peace tie knots quickly though. The clerk’s job was thorough, she was going to need her knife to get to her sword.

They mounted again and rode into the bustle of the city. It was busy in a way Alagariel had never imagined possible. People stopped to make room for them as they approached.

“People certainly take the trouble to give us space, people in Thetwick were rarely so accommodating,” Ala said.

“Yeah… they’re not doing it because they have good manners, unfortunately. Riders, particularly armed riders are generally noble or at least in a noble’s employ. They have right of way at least insofar that there’s few consequences for them riding down people who get in the way. Quite a few nobles ascribe to the notion that their right of way is sacred. Some nobles think it’s a sport to try and ride people down. Safer to make room.”

“Oh.”

People stepped aside, making space for them. Myrthe seemed exultant at all of the city’s bustle and wasn’t at all concerned by the people scurrying to get out of their way. Since Myrthe’s explanation, Ala looked at people’s efforts to get clear of them very differently.

“So this is really the first city you’ve ever visited?”

“Yes… or well. I can’t be sure, but I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere that was quite so… busy anyway. I have some memories. Some place with very tall, very white towers. More places with white stone. Or maybe it’s the same place. No idea where any of that was. Maybe it was just a dream.”

“Duilhac is around the same size as Doncastle. More trade here, so it’s more lively and more importantly, there’s better shops, more prosperity. I like Duilhac, it’s a good size. I went to Erythrae once, you know, where the King rules from, way off in eastern Iurrak.”

“You’ve been all the way to Erythrae?” Asked Ala, fascinated.

“Yes. It’s much too big. Different too, not so many of these brooding castle walls. My father says they think they’re so civilised they don’t need such old fashioned defences.”

“Are they right?”

“I’m not sure. It’s been a long time though, since anyone laid siege to Erythrae. No one has since Iurrak was founded, I think.”

Thankfully no one fired a crossbow at Ala as they rode through the narrow streets, it would have been hard to dodge even if she saw the attack coming. The main thoroughfares were were all paved, a luxury that Ala did not remember having seen anywhere before. In Thetwick, only the richest families had paved courtyards and only a portion of the market square was cobbled. As she was contemplating how much work it would be to pave such large streets, she saw her first other real elves, walking along the street ahead of them. The street was lined with shops with colourful signs on either side. The two elves turned into a smaller side street that led off from the main thoroughfare. She only caught a glimpse, but one looked a lot like the humans around her, if a bit more statuesque. The other must have been a Water elf, Ala guessed, because the woman’s colouring really had been quite exotic. Ala suppressed the urge to run over to them, mostly because she was still concerned about drawing attention to herself and getting assassinated.

Myrthe loudly asked the way to the Green Duck guest house several times. It was by the foot of the road leading up to the castle. Myrthe knew that, but she wanted to make it seem that that was where they were headed to anyone who might remember them. The Green Duck was famous and catered to many nobles while they were in town. It was one of Myrthe’s many ploys that Ala was slowly beginning to understand. They rode straight to the temple of Guanshiyin, where Myrthe was respectfully greeted by a young acolyte on duty by the door. A priest, a man in his mid thirties had been summoned to meet them, obviously alerted to Myrthe’s arrival. Myrthe spoke quietly with the priest and the acolyte for a few minutes. The acolyte then showed them to a side building with a corridor with cells on either side. Behind each sturdy oak door was a small room, with a simple but solid bed, a chair, a table and basic amenities. It was basic in its lack of decoration, but everything was of a high quality. Myrthe warned her that it was not allowed to speak in the cells. The room also had a small barred window that was far too small for assassination attempts. That seemed like a bonus to Ala.

The Duke’s Court was scheduled to be held again on First day. They had arrived a few hours after it had finished for the day. That seemed just as well to Ala seeing as she hadn’t decided on exactly what she wanted to say. They were in Duilhac town and no one had tried to kill Ala since the inn at Larkhill. It felt like an achievement. Myrthe came into her room and gestured for Ala to follow her. They went back to the central hall of the temple, and found themselves a quiet spot on some benches opposite a statue of Guanshiyin.

“Come on. Let’s sit for a bit. It’s alright to talk quietly here. So, what next?”

“We’re in the city and no assassination attempts just yet. I’m happy so far. I’m not sure what the etiquette is. Should I just go up to the Duke and announce that I am here?”

“In this case, I’d suggest the announcement should be made in the Duke’s court, it’s the only way you’ll get an audience with him on your own merits. If you just arrived asking for an audience, you’d probably be directed to the court. It is, after all, a place for subjects to air grievances.”

“I think that’s what Bernard wanted me to do. He said I should take my case to the Duke’s court.”

Myrthe appeared to ponder for a moment.

“I’m just thinking about other options. I don’t know the Duke personally. I have seen him few times at events when I was younger, but I doubt he remembers me other than by my family name. I suppose my father’s status would eventually get us in to see him. There’s no reason why that should be faster than just going to the court though. It’s not necessarily a quick way of doing it at all in fact, I’m not the Baron of Easthall himself after all.”

“I’ll try the court. There are other things I should do while I’m here anyway. I should find this man Gladiuth. He’s a half elf. Bernard wanted me to bring him his blade. He was in the Duke’s regiment with Bernard. I suppose I should look for him wherever the barracks are.”

“I think that’s in the outer wards of the castle. We have time, we could go there now. It’s Fifth today, it’s customary for there to be friendly competitions among units that are in quarters before Sixth and Seventh liberty. It should be busy up there.”

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

On the Road Again

By now, the caravan was ready to go. Myrthe got up in the back of the rearmost wagon again. Ala decided to ride Fulgor for a while, just to warm him up and give him some exercise. He seemed refreshed after a good night’s rest and enough food. Myrthe pulled a small book from her pack and sat down to read. Ala rode Fulgor around a bit, ranging ahead and behind the caravan, and slowing down to ride next to the lead wagon for a while. The caravan master spoke to her.

“Oi, I heard what happened last night. I hadn’t realised you were an elf. I’m not much partial to elves, so I probably wouldn’t have taken you on had I noticed. I’ll honour our agreement of course, as I don’t want trouble with my guild. A deal once made must be seen through. It is a Master’s duty. Just stay out of the way and try not to cause any more problems.”

Ala sighed. A little prejudice at the start of the day was always nice. She just rooled her eyes and ignored him.

Other than the Caravan Master’s prejudices, which led to some of his staff becoming rather unpleasant too, the journey passed fairly quietly for a few days. She was talking to Myrthe again, which was how she was spending a lot of her time.

“I wonder what happened to Abe and the fourth rider,” Ala said.

“A good question. What do you think? Did they give up?”

“I doubt it. I would think they’re in too deep. What would the two of them tell the Constable when they returned?”

“They could say they couldn’t find you. The Constable wouldn’t need to know they only made one attempt.”

“I can’t imagine that man letting the two of them off so easily. If he was worried about the consequences of all this, I think he’d give them a reason to worry too. What do you think happens after I tell the Duke about all this?”

“I don’t see that he’ll really have a choice. Aside from the matter with your uncle’s will, it seems clear that the leadership of his militia in Thetwick is not in good hands. With that, the integrity of his borders is cast into doubt too. He will have to set things right.”

“You think he’ll actually do that?”

“He can’t have his authority compromised like that without running the risk that other ambitious people in the Duchy start getting ideas. If he lets it run wild, he could lose control of the Westmarch. It could even undermine his authority elsewhere in Taladaria. The King might even question his loyalty.”

“I don’t know. The Duke has never seemed terribly interested in Thetwick.”

“Bernard was good at his job as militia Captain, or so I’ve gathered from what you’ve told me?”

“Very good, I think.”

“Well, then Thetwick was in capable hands. Now, it isn’t any more. With what you’ve told me, isn’t that a fair summary?”

“It is I suppose.”

“Well, the Duke must be seen to act. I don’t think it’s important enough for him to go himself, but he will send someone he trusts. It’s part of the way nobles exercise their power, like they’re saying, ‘oh, by the way, I noticed you weren’t behaving like I told you to, but you’re so insignificant that I’ve just sent this lowly underling to execute you and confiscate all your families belongings,’ I bet he tells you to go with whoever he sends, as you’re such a central player in all of it.”

Ala frowned. “You think he’ll turn me right around and send me to Thetwick?”

“I expect so. It’s how my father would do things, I think. Also, if Bernard was the militia Captain, I expect the Duke will want to replace him with a loyal man, especially if there isn’t a known loyal military commander in Thetwick right now.”

“There was never a militia Captain before Bernard, you know?”

“But he arrived what, four decades ago? I guess that might not seem very long to you, but a lot of people will not ever have known it any different. Wasn’t it instituted by the previous Duke? It’s standard practice for border towns nowadays.”

“It was. Ivan the Second. He died a few years after Bernard arrived, in 948, I think.”

“I really don’t think the Duke is uninterested in the goings on in the Westmarch. I think it’s more likely that your Uncle Bernard simply had things well enough under control. Now, the Duke is going to have reestablish his authority.”

“He could have sent someone sooner.”

“No one said nobles are always as prompt as they ought to be, unfortunately. A Duke tends to have a lot on his plate and what seems most pressing tends to take precedence.”

Ala had had a vague hope that the matter could be handled just by giving evidence in the Duke’s court. She would only have had to send a letter to Harald to take care of things for her and she would be free to move on. Myrthe had a point though. It wasn’t likely to play out that way.

“Well, I think Travis Marchmain would take everyone he could down with him. Abe and the fourth rider are in danger. Even if I don’t know who the fourth rider is, Travis does. He would probably take them all down, though he might try and protect his son I suppose, the way his father protected Gordon.”

“If they didn’t go back, they would have to stay ahead of us. That isn’t hard at this caravan’s pace. We could ask for a person fitting Abe’s description in the inns and farmsteads we camp at…” said Myrthe, “not that it will do much other than confirm they’ve been there. Might find out how far ahead they are, I suppose.”

Ala tried to imagine how the Constable or his son might react. It was difficult. When Bernard was alive, they had always had to keep a low profile and hide whatever they were up to well. They had turned appearing legitimate into an art form.

Ala spoke again, mostly thinking out loud, “I don’t think they’ll try and ambush us again. That went wrong when they were with the four of them and now they know I’m not alone. Perhaps Travis might send some more men to Peyrepertuse as insurance.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I imagine so. I would, were I him. Might take some time though and he probably has some unpleasantness he wants to do in Thetwick too. He doesn’t have unlimited manpower.”

“So they’ll come… eventually, is that a good guess? What do you think Abe and his companion will do in the meantime?”

“I suppose they might try an attack with a crossbow or something, but I don’t recall either of them being a very good shot. They’d have to get very close and have to be very lucky to achieve more than annoying me. Almost more dangerous to people near me who don’t have armour…”

Realisation hit Ala and she looked at Myrthe, shocked, “I’m so sorry, I’ve really put you in danger, haven’t I?”

Myrthe gave one of her smiles, the kind that made you think she knew something that you didn’t.

“Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling you’re one of those ‘Cries of the World’ I’m meant to be listening to. I’m going to follow you around for a bit, if you’ll have me. Besides, you said you’d protect me.”

Ala was very happy with that. She felt like she had a friend, an equal for the first time ever, she’d suddenly been scared that she’d messed it up.

“I’d like that very much. I’ll try to keep you safe,” she said.

“If I wanted to be safe, I wouldn’t have gotten ordained.”

“I don’t understand?”

“The Sojourn is only for Priestesses and Priests. If I had stayed a nun, I could have stayed safe at Doncastle as long as I wanted. My family is powerful enough that I would have been given something important to do anyway.”

“Oh, I didn’t know. You wanted to go on this trip?”

“Very much so. Anyway, back to Abe and his friend. Say they ride on to Peyrepertuse and put a contract on you with the thieves’ guild, then what?”

“I suppose they would have to wait around for confirmation of the guild’s success.”

Myrthe smiled a little.

“There is no honour among thieves they say. Maybe we should interfere, just a little? That should be interesting.”

“Interesting? Messing with assassins is interesting?”

Myrthe had a strange gleam in her eye that seemed discordant with the warm and compassionate priestess that Ala knew.

If you wish to receive the weekly installment to this story in your inbox, please subscribe to the newsletter below.

Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

The Constable’s Cronies

That evening, they closed on the evening’s stopping point, Larkhill, under a cloudy grey sky. Ala decided she really should warn the Priestess that an attack was likely. Myrthe shouldn’t be put in danger because of her proximity.

“Myrthe?”

“Hmm?”

“I should warn you that I will probably be attacked somewhere before we reach Peyrepertuse. It could be dangerous for anyone nearby.I’m not certain that Marchmain’s henchmen wouldn’t go so far as to kill witnesses.”

“I know. I’m not naive, though it may seem that I am.”

“You really want to travel with me? Even though it might be dangerous?”

“I thought about it, but I think I’d rather travel with you. It just feels right. You’re good with that sword, right? I’m going to believe that whatever happens, we’ll be OK, alright?”

Myrthe took the information in stride. The young priestess was quite unflappable, Ala thought. Myrthe was very different from any of the people she’d known in Thetwick. They placed their bedrolls near each other, a little ways away from the others, near the horses. Some men had been eyeing the two of them, particularly when they had been changing but no one had bothered them. The caravan had stopped at a large, sprawling inn, it was a village really, though it clearly existed to service the Inn. It was called Larkhill, though if there was a hill it was unimpresseive and impossible to make out under the village.

The big inn had a large walled compound attached where travellers could make camp within the safety of a stone wall. It wasn’t a terribly high wall, at around ten feet. It wouldn’t take much to climb it, but it kept the wind and the curious out. It certainly wouldn’t stop anyone determined to scale it. The Inn had rooms for richer folk as well as a large common room where individual travellers could rent a bed for a night. All the services were painted messily on a wooden board by the entrance of the camp ground so the Caravanners, who could typically read. could see what services were available. There were attached barns and other buildings scattered around the Inn. Several families lived in the tiny village surrounding the Inn and farmed the surrounding land. It was a busy night, with many travellers camped and quite a racket coming from the Inn itself where songs were being sung, people were laughing and drunken disagreements played out. Several caravans were there for the night. There was also at least one group of pilgrims wearing simple brown robes. Ala couldn’t tell if they were from any particular faith.

Most of the singing came from a group of entertainers, they often tagged along with caravans for safety, paying for their escort with their music and revelry. They had even visited Thetwick, usually for things like harvest feasts. Bernard had warned her to be wary of groups of entertainers as they were often little more than a cover for people who relied upon thievery to survive. They always reminded her of Gabriel too, though. Ala had paid one of the caravan boys to bring them a warm meal from inside and shared some of it with the boy. He ate greedily as it was much better fare than the watery, tasteless stew that Ala had seen being fed to the caravan crew.

Ala whispered to Myrthe. “The men that are chasing me must be ahead of us by now. They may even be here in fact, hoping to ambush me or something like that. They can’t know that I’ve joined a caravan I don’t think, but they can probably recognise Fulgor if they walk around and look. Many Thets know him, he’s one of the better stallions of his generation. Any group of four men from Thetwick is certain to have at least one who knows horses well.”

There were certainly no other horses of Fulgor’s stature in the Caravan enclosure. Ala hadn’t really considered a necessity to blend in when she had picked the massive black Frisian. But maybe, it was possible that Fulgor had picked her and she had never really had any say in the matter. Not that it really mattered, she would never leave him behind or exchange him for another horse.

After they had eaten, Myrthe took out a piece of parchment, a quill and an ink pot as well as some wax and a candle. She wrote Alagariel’s right to bear arms and placed her seal on the bottom of it with the wax. One of her rings, which she wore with the coat of arms on the inside of her hand was a family seal. She waited for the wax to dry, gently blowing on it, before presenting it to Ala.

“There you go. My very own elf-at-arms,” Myrthe said mischievously.

“Thank you very much. It certainly relieves one of my worries.”

Ala accepted it gladly and carefully stored it in her scroll tube. It made her feel more comfortable. They made their beds between the compound wall and the row of tied horses. Ala looked around and decided it would be almost impossible to get close enough to fire a crossbow at her without at least the caravan guards noticing. The Inn itself also employed night watchmen to make certain everything stayed calm. It was as safe as she was likely to get. The caravan gaurds did keep watches, mainly to stop people stealing.

For good measure, Ala paid the guards two eighths each to keep a closer eye on them. There were so many dark figures walking around the enclosure for a large part of the night that it was impossible to be certain of everyone’s intentions. With so many hooded people, she couldn’t tell if any of them were Abe or Norbert or one of the other two men that might be looking for her. She meditated, keeping a type of detached, watchful consciousness as she rested. She came out of her meditation many times, uncomfortable with the close proximity of so many people.

Somewhere during the night, she noticed something different to the people that regularly walked by. She just came fully conscious when she felt rather than saw a dark figure crouched on top of the wall above her. The figure jumped down off the wall towards her just as she rolled aside. She had lain down with her sword nestled on her left side, with the hilt resting on her shoulder. She rolled to the left as the figure landed, clumsily planting a spearhead right where her abdomen had been a moment or two earlier. She continued the roll until she was on her back again, then lifted her legs high into the air to give her the leverage to get up. The sword was in the way to roll backwards so she rolled forward again as the figure cursed unintelligibly and extricated his spear from her bedroll. He had reorganised himself by the time she was on her knees, and lunged at her. From her knee she made a step forward and turned round clockwise, using the sword, still in its scabbard, to intercept the advance of the spear. She was almost too late, the spear tip cut a nasty gash into her side as she turned it away. She was inside the man’s reach now though, which he realised was dangerous. He dropped the spear and pulled a long knife from his belt. She now recognised the man, it was Norbert. As she stepped back, utilising the extra space that had been gained by Norbert dropping the spear, she drew her sword, keeping the scabbard in her left hand, now giving herself the reach advantage. She decided to try convincing him to give it up, however ill-fated the attempt might prove to be.

“Norbert! What are you doing? Give up. The Constable isn’t worth dying for!”

She saw Norbert glanced behind her, looking at the top of the wall where he had come from.

“You half-bitch, I know your kind. Thinking you’re better than us, ridin’ around on them’ fancy horses an’ bein’ all high an’ mighty. Well, I got somethin’ for ya.”

He was stalling, waiting for his friend to come down the wall. She sighed, resigned to what she needed to do and utilised the extra length of her sword to stick her blade into the middle of his face, the tip breaching the rear of his skull. She gave it a twist, as Bernard had taught her, as she pulled it out. Norbert made a sort of sickening gurgling noise as he fell. She didn’t know if he had still been trying to say something or whether the sound was because her sword had passed through his nasal canal. She forgot about it as she turned. Two more people jumped down the wall. Each had a proper sized sword, but fortunately no shields. Thankfully shields would have gotten in the way when stealthily scaling the wall. Ala heard movement from the bedrolls. Myrthe was awake then, and probably aware of what was going on. Ala looked over the two men.

“Why don’t you two just go home and say you couldn’t find me? I don’t want to hurt you.”

They kept coming.

“Stop, or you’ll end up like Norbert!”

The two men facing her were Abe and Jake, two more farmers who weren’t really bad men, but well known in Thetwick for both their aggression and stupidity. Jake she’d known for a long time. She’d met him when he was four years old, on the day that Gordon Marchmain had murdered his father and sister. Ala couldn’t help wonder what tale the new Constable had spun to reel in the unfortunate Jake. They probably only fallen in with the Constable because of bad luck or debt. The Constable’s son, Magnus, was nowhere to be seen. Ala thought that was predictable, when the going was likely to be rough Magnus was well clear of any danger. The two men glanced at Norbert’s still form and then each other. They looked nervous. Ala decided that Norbert must have been the driving force behind the assassination team. He had been the one with the longest association with the Marchmains.

“Just drop your weapons and go home. You both know that you’re not likely to survive a fight with me.”

Jake growled at her, “I just never got angry at militia practice. Now I’m mad. Yer in fer it now, bitch. Norbert was my friend! I bet you had somethin’ to do with me da’s death too! The Constable told me everythin’. I’ll make you feel it!”

Ala wondered if he wasn’t saying it mostly to psych himself up. Jake spat and came for her, raising his sword. To his credit, it was a fairly neat, closed attack that left her little manoeuvring room. She counter attacked by raising her sword stepping in with her right leg and hip, covering all the distance she needed and a bit more as her left leg came forward, driving a blindingly fast diagonal stroke that cut Jake open from his left shoulder to his right hip. She knew from terrible experience that he would bleed to death in a few seconds. He dropped his sword with a clang as he sagged, crumpling forward. She readjusted her blade, putting its length between her and Abe next, trying not to think about Jake’s wasted life.

“Last chance, Abe, put the sword on the ground,” she said quietly.

Abe’s eyes were wide with shock as his friend finished toppling face first onto the ground. Ala could see his resolve fading from his face.

“Okay… okay… I’m going…”

He put his sword on the ground and backed away. She heard Myrthe speaking quietly behind her, in an unintelligible language that filled Ala with warmth and comfort. Myrthe touched her side, where the cut was. The pain disappeared. When she looked back at Abe, she could see he was running towards the gate as fast as he could. Unfortunately, she had only been wearing the simple cotton chemise and hose that went under her gambeson while meditating. Her red-golden mane of hair was bound in a loose ponytail and it stood out dramatically when the inn’s night watchman finally arrived with a big lantern. The thickset man was panting heavily, his small eyes moving over the two corpses before they turned to Myrthe and Ala and then to Ala’s drawn sword.

He yelled as he looked at the two dead men, “what in the blazes is going on here?”

The watchman had a large club, and a sword at his belt, but he hadn’t arrived expecting to have to use it. He was wearing ill-fitting padded armour that had clearly been made for a smaller man. He looked very nervous indeed.

Ala shrugged, “we were attacked. I saw to our defence.”

The watchman looked at the two corpses on the ground, then at her, and rubbed is beard. He calmed down when he decided that Ala wasn’t intending to use her sword on him. Once he was happy that he wasn’t going to have to fight anyone, he spoke again. “Fuck. I’m going to have to wake up the innkeeper,” he said it in a tone that made it clear that that wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

Luckily for him, someone had already taken that task upon themselves. A group of people led by what could only be the innkeeper, a fat bald man with a bushy beard was waddling across the camp ground towards them. His retinue included a large round woman, presumably his wife. Behind the two of them followed a gaggle of other curious people.

“What devilry is this? Todd?” He roared at the night-watchman.

“Master William, I just came to see what the disturbance was and found this… uhm elf-girl… standing over these two corpses. She claims it was self defence.”

“I will vouch for that,” said Myrthe immediately. “She saved my life.”

The innkeeper surveyed the scene before speaking, “and who are you, girl?” Said Todd gruffly to Myrthe.

“Myrthe Lambertye, Priestess of Guanshiyin and Lady of Easthall.”

“I apologise milady,” said the innkeeper with a shocked expression, falling over himself, obviously not really wanting to mean it, but changing his tone immediately.

“I will pay for the burial of the bodies, of course,” said Ala.

“Hmm… well Todd, I think that settles it. The Lady Priestess says the claim of self-defence is true, and I don’t see anyone here claiming they saw anything different.” He scanned the crowd that had gathered, but didn’t really leave an opportunity for anyone else to offer an opinion.

“So, that just leaves the bodies. A silver each.”

It was extortionately expensive. Ala really wanted the problem to go away though.

“Agreed. Get some of your boys to move the bodies.” She gave the innkeeper two silver coins. What was left of her inheritance was destined to run out quickly, it seemed.

The crowd quickly dispersed after that. When no one was looking, Ala decided it would be wise to search her two victims. She actually found ten silver coins between them. No wonder they had been eager, they had been well paid to come and kill her. Unfortunately, there was no incriminating paperwork. Nothing to link them to the Constable. Two boys with a cart arrived a few minutes later to take away the bodies. They had two buckets of water with them to wash away some of the blood too, forcing Ala and Myrthe to relocate their bedrolls. She didn’t think the innkeeper would be paying them anything extra for lugging bodies around in the middle of the night, so she gave each of them an eighth of silver for their trouble. Myrthe was staring at the activities looking a little shocked.

“I’ve never seen people killed like that before. I mean… I’ve seen a hanging… from far way. Never seen people killed in a fight… it was so fast… you move so beautifully and the effect is so…sudden… so ugly. Not like in a play or anything, where the fighters turn around each other for ages, is it?”

Ala shook her head.

“I wish they wouldn’t have forced it on me. They weren’t bad people. Not really. Just the wrong friends. Fell in with that asshole Travis Marchmain and his son. It cost them and their families. I knew Jake since he was four. His older sister is a friend.”

“You did give them every chance to back down. Why would they do that? You dealt with them with casual ease. They knew you, from the militia, didn’t they? They must have known they wouldn’t win?”

“I don’t know. It’s never that cut and dried. A slight error and I could be one of the bodies. That cut in my side only needed an inch to be debilitating. It’s true that they ought to have known their chances weren’t great, even if they outnumbered us. Sometimes I think there’s something in the male mind that makes them feel invincible, especially young human males. Or like being angry gives them some sort of immunity from injury.”

“My brothers acted like that sometimes, when they were teens.”

“Neither is true. Anger doesn’t protect you and being young definitely doesn’t make you immortal. Bernard taught me that anger clouds your ability to fight. You need to be constantly thinking, calculating, cold and clear. Maybe it’s just that they can’t fathom losing a fight to a young woman. I’m not sure. It could be that simple. But you’re right. They could have known better. Should have. Jake was probably lied to, drawn in. The Constables uncle murdered his father and sister, for the gods’ sake!”

“Yet he just tried to kill you? On this Constable’s orders?”

“The Constable and his father before him have obviously had an alternative story about what happened that day. They’ve probably been telling him that for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the latest version features Bernard and I as villains.”

“It’s all so stupid and tragic. One thing though… I’ve seen a lot of weapons practices… how did you learn to fight like that? Your form is incredible.”

“My uncle, mentor. The man I told you about, Bernard. He served in the Duke’s Regiment for thirty years. I spent the last four decades, since he retired from the Regiment, learning from him.”

“But you fought like you’ve done so before?”

“We did get in the occasional real fight while serving in the militia, too. Usually raiders from Oakharrow. That skirmish I mentioned. I’ve been riding patrols for a long time.”

“It was… strangely beautiful, but for its deadly results.”

“I have a little bit of a perfectionist streak I guess. Also a fascination for warfare. I love sword work in particular, it’s wonderful working your way through sword forms, it calms me. I don’t know why. Bernard once gave me a beautiful book about sword fighting. Learned some new things from that too. I have it with me if you want to see.”

“So these weren’t the first men you’ve killed?”

“No,” Ala shrugged, “strangely enough, you do get used to it. So far all of them have been trying to kill me. That really helps. I did have to execute two orcks once…”

“Truly? Orcks are generally considered incorrigible, so I suppose that is the sensible thing to do.”

“It bothered me for a very long time.”

“I’d say that is to your credit, but in the case of orcks, I doubt there’s anything else to do.”

“So Bernard always said.”

Myrthe looked around the courtyard. There were still people occasionally looking at them, though it was all from quite a distance now.

“Lots of people just saw you’re an elf and you didn’t contradict the innkeeper when he referred to you as such. There’s no hiding it with your looks and that hair. Maybe when you were younger, but there surely are people here who have seen elves before.”

“I know. Oh well. Hard to claim my name is Alagariel Half-elven then, isn’t it? Ironic. That’s even how I’m referred to in official documents. I don’t really know if I have a real name, actually.”

“Well, we could disguise you. If we coloured your hair, kept it over your ears and kept you in bulky clothes you can pass for a half elf, maybe even a human. It’s just not possible in what you’re wearing now.”

“Hmm… I used to dye my hair. I think I want to just be myself for a change. I want to get used to being recognised as an elf… to just being what I am.”

“People are simple, mostly. Even so they will make the connection between you and rumours and stories once they start getting around. It’s not going to be long until we run into someone who is better educated. Word will begin to spread that you must be a fire elf eventually.”

“I don’t… mind… I think? If it’s what I am, so be it.”

“It’s going to bring out curious folk. Not sure all of them will be well-intentioned. The word could already be spreading for all I know, if someone in the crowd has voiced that you look an awful lot like a fire elf.”

“I understand that. I just don’t want to hide any more. There’s no point in worrying about it now is there?”

“No, I guess not. Let’s get some more rest before the sun comes up. I could use a few more hours. We’re not going to be doing anything else useful tonight.”

Ala could use another hour or two herself. As they lay down again, Ala asked Myrthe a question. “I noticed you used your title, with the innkeeper, I thought Priestesses didn’t do that?”

“I thought it would shut the innkeeper down quicker. Nobles can demand any trial be brought to noble court. I figured he wouldn’t want the hassle.”

“Good thinking… and thank you… for whatever it was you did to that cut.”

“It was a prayer to Guanshiyin. I guess she likes you.”

“That’s good news… isn’t it?”

“I’d say so, but then I’m a little biased…” Myrthe smiled.

Ala felt the place where the cut had been. She felt almost nothing of it, “you’re right to be.”

“I would really love to see your sword book sometime.”

The rest of the night passed quietly. After two more hours, Ala was wide awake. She pulled on her gambeson, mail and belt. She moved a little ways from the caravan to practice her sword forms. She spotted some people watching from a distance. There were still bloodstains on the ground from the previous night’s activities, silent reminders of death. None of the passers by gave the stains a second glance.

After her practice ritual she looked after Fulgor, and bought him an extra helping of oats from the Inns’ supplies. He was a big horse who used a lot of energy. Harald sold many of this stock as warhorses to traders, nobles and even the Duke’s Regiment, so Fulgor had been trained for battle. He was able to obey knee commands. He was a little young to be considered a full war horse, but he would grow into it. Myrthe woke up a few hours later. Ala had tea and an oatmeal breakfast porridge with honey ready for her.

“Good morning. I have some breakfast for you. Here…”

She looked around before accepting the bowl and mug with a smile.

“How long have you been up?”

“A few hours.”

“Must be nice to have extra time every day. Just think how much I could read! What do you do when everyone’s asleep?”

“Usually I use the time to practice sword work, unless I have some other project. Back home… back in Thetwick, I would often go to some ruins south of the town and practice there.”

“It’s a bit unfair really. Not only do you live ten times as long as me, you also get a few extra hours a day of being conscious…” Myrthe got her quizzical look before continuing, “could you teach me to meditate like that?”

Ala was taken by surprise. She’d never thought about it.

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried teaching it to anyone. I… don’t think I ever had to make any special effort for it. I don’t quite know where I would begin.”

“Well, we can try it can’t we?”

“Not sure it’s something that can be taught, but I don’t see that there could be any harm in trying.”

They ate breakfast together in silence. As she spooned her porridge out of her bowl, Ala was wondering how she might explain something like her meditation to someone who wanted to duplicate it. She suspected Myrthe was the sort who would want to make a proper effort before giving up on it, she should at least do her the courtesy of giving it some thought. Myrthe scraped her bowl empty, licking out the last bits, which pulled Ala out of her train of thought.

“Do you want some more? I can make more?”

“No, no I’m fine. I’m going to sit down and do my devotions, it looks like we’ll be leaving soon.”

Myrthe sat down on her bedroll cross-legged, and closed her eyes. Ala watched carefully as she went through a series of silent prayers and hand gestures. When she had finished, she asked Myrthe what it all meant.

“Well, it’s just an external display of our devotion and a request for guidance, for the strength to be able to be compassionate and merciful wherever we may go.”

“I think I like Guanshiyin. I’ve never given much thought to religion, to be honest. We have a small temple in Thetwick. It’s a dull place. Do the elves have their own gods?”

“I don’t think they have their own. Gods are universal, or so I’ve been led to believe. I think they revere some more than others though. I think they have different names for some of the gods. I’m not sure of how they think of Guanshiyin. I never thought to inquire. They do have one entity that humans don’t worship though, I think he… or she is called Aether.”

“Aether? Interesting. The sisters in Thetwick only really mentioned a few gods.”

“I’m sure there are countless gods being worshipped. How many of them are actually separate gods and not just aspects of some other god, is definitely open for debate. The Northlanders have a whole group of their own gods, like Odin, Thor and Freya. It’s kind of a case in point though. Wotan is Odin I think and I think Freya is probably Guanshiyin. Thor? Maybe Belus? I don’t know. They have even more, I think. I sometimes wonder how could you ever even find out which gods are the same ones? How could you ever know?”

“Well, so far Guanshiyin seems pretty cool to me anyway. Like a safe place… peaceful… but that isn’t the right word.”

Myrthe smiled at that.

“Yes. Yes she is…” she mumbled. “Though the faith hasn’t always been so peaceful.”

“What happened?”

“I read a book in the library. A long time ago. I mean a really long time, even for you…”

“Like how long?”

“Say… one and a half thousand years? Anyway, the faith of Guanshiyin had a branch or perhaps a splinter is a better word, called ‘The Last Resort’. Or well, I don’t think it was an official name, but people called it that.”

“That sounds ominous. I’ve never of anything called The Last Resort. It’s a strange name.”

“Well, I don’t think the book was intended for just everyone to read. It… eh… may have been in a restricted part of the library.”

Ala eyed the priestess who had an amused and mischievous look. “You broke into locked part of the library?”

“It was a bit more refined than all that. Lots of interesting reading material, though.”

“I imagine there was,” Ala looked at Myrthe again. The sweet young girl sneaking around doing forbidden things was at odds with the image she projected.

“Ominous is a good word for the Last Resort, actually. Like many things it started out noble enough. The book I read said that the name came from the idea that there came a moment when more compassion didn’t work on a problem. Hence, ‘The Last Resort’, I suppose. Specifically, it was aimed against the faith of Kithus, at least at the beginning. Have you ever heard of Kithus?”

“I don’t think I have.”

“Well. Case in point. It was apparently quite big in its time and terribly oppressive and expansionist, especially in Mur. All other faiths were considered bad, as were mages. They were all actively and energetically persecuted, which means torture and burning at the stake. The faith of Kithus doesn’t seem to have survived the attentions of the Last Resort, though. If it has, it’s never recovered at least. Perhaps it still exists, in secret corners of the world.”

“It doesn’t sound like the Last Resort was a bad thing.”

“In the case of Kithus, you might be right. But people started employing the last resort to justify different things, later on. There were nasty episodes. Eventually, the clergy cleansed itself. Outlawed the last resort within the faith. Lots of Kings and other rulers followed.”

“Sounds like an ugly time.”

“It was, I think, but the faith of Guanshiyin survived. I’ve never heard of the Last Resort still existing. It’s still illegal in most lands, I checked the law books.”

“Very thorough.”

“Some days are boring in the faith,” shrugged Myrthe. “It goes to show though, you have to be careful, even with something as inherently good and warm and nice as the faith of Guanshiyin.”

“That seems to be the moral of the story. It sounds like it’s a wise point, to me… though maybe… sometimes, you do need a Last Resort.”

“I worry that you might be right, in a way. Don’t tell the High Priest I said so?”

Time flew while they were talking. They seemed to flow endlessly from one fascinating subject into the other. Ala had never had such an interesting person to talk to.

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A New Friend

A few hours later she was feeling mostly refreshed. She didn’t really need to meditate more than three or four hours to feel fully rested. She sometimes made it all the way to six hours if she had really exerted herself and even then it was more of an indulgence than a necessity. It was how she found the time to cavort around Westmarch forests at night. She tried to determine what time it was, eventually deciding it was a little after noon. The sky was mostly overcast, but it hadn’t rained and she thought she was completely dry now, which was pleasant. She realised she was still sitting next to the priestess, Myrthe.

“Good afternoon sleepy head. That must have been quite the night. You sleep a little funny, you know? Like you’re meditating or something. Your eyes don’t really close and sometimes you seem to look around. Your eyes move around. It’s… funny.”

Myrthe was more observant than Ala would have given her credit for. She decided she should pay a little more attention to the girl as she rummaged through her pack for some food.

“It’s a trick I picked up. I find it refreshes me as well as sleeping.”

It was worth making an attempt to keep up the ruse, she decided. She offered Myrthe a piece of the hard honey and nut bread she had found in her bag.

“Oh, thank you. So, really? They say elves sleep like that. Or don’t really sleep. Didn’t realise half-elves did too.”

“I’m not sure all of them can, actually.”

“That’s interesting. You look like a fire elf and you rest like elves do. Now as unlikely as all that may be, I wasn’t born yesterday, though I suppose it might seem that way. For some reason people often underestimate me, I don’t really know why. Or… no… I guess I do know… but that’s beside the point right now. What was I saying?”

“Err… I don’t know?” Ala tried.

“Oh yes you do. Now, I’ve even read some books about elves. Lots, really. I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you that I don’t think you’re going to be able to pass as a half-elf among well travelled folk, Alagariel.”

Ala looked at her, shocked. Bernard had known at once too. He had had thirty years of campaigns to teach him about the world though. Myrthe was around nineteen as far as Ala could tell.

“Uhm… You’re very perceptive, Priestess. Please… don’t point that out to everyone. I’m not sure what my reception will be like.”

“Don’t worry too much. People dislike what they don’t understand, but I don’t think people really treat elves with much more prejudice than they might any foreigner.”

“I’m not sure whether that’s good or bad.”

“Travellers are usually tolerant, at least, they’re a type of foreigner too, usually, right? Common folk can be nastier. I’m fascinated though. I haven’t heard of anyone seeing a fire elf in years… even centuries maybe? There’s plenty of earth, metal and water elves around. Or well, plenty might be an exaggeration, but they’re there. I know where there are wood elves too though I think humans seldom see them. They tend to keep their distance from humans though don’t they? For a Fire Elf folk would probably come out to gawk. I can see how that wouldn’t be very nice, so I promise I won’t tell anyone, OK? Not that I’d be all too worried, you don’t look enough different from other elves for most people to realise you don’t fit well with any of the common subspecies. Now, the other way round, if people heard there was a fire elf about, well, you might draw a crowd, I think.”

Ala considered making the case that she was just a metal elf that happened to look a little like a fire elf. She decided she didn’t want to hide any more and Myrthe… she really liked the young priestess, she realised. She wasn’t going to pretend, she decided.

“You seem to be… very… well-educated and kind, Priestess. Thank you. I’m glad we met.”

“Me too. Please do call me Myrthe though, it all feels so formal otherwise. Unless we’re doing something official or ceremonial of course. I am having a whole different feeling about this Sojourn since this morning. Maybe it’s going to be more fun and interesting than terrifying after all.”

Ala smiled. Could she have found a friend? She tried not to think about Myrthe growing old as she watched. She resolved to not think about it and just focus on what time there was. It took a conscious force of will, but she pushed the inevitable to the back of her mind.

“You’re right of course. I think I am a Fire Elf.”

“You ‘think’ you are?”

“It’s a long story. First, would you tell me about the other kinds of elves? I’ve never met one. I only know one half-elf and she’s as clueless about elves as I am. She never even met her father. He may not even know she exists. If I have ever met an elf it was when I was very young, and what memories I have are more like dreams than anything else.”

“Really? That’s unusual. I always learned that elves tended to stay near to at least some of their own kind… on account of the ageing, you know? I can’t imagine it’s easy going for an elf to grow up among humans.”

“It can be a little depressing,” Ala agreed.

“I’ll tell you what I know, which isn’t all that much.”

“Please do, all I know about elves is what I’ve been able to glean from passing travellers. I’d love to hear anything you might know.”

“Really, these days the main thing to tell elves apart is their complexions though that isn’t completely reliable… except for Water elves… they generally look so exotic that it’s hard to be wrong. Or… well I suppose if you saw a water elf that didn’t have exotic pigments you wouldn’t know it was one. So I should probably say that if you see an elf with wild colouring, particularly blues and greens, it’s almost certainly a water elf.”

“OK, I’ve heard a little about water elves before, but your… ehm… recognition guide… makes sense.”

“You know what I find strange? Elves breed true, except when they’re mixed with humans.”

“Breed true? What does that mean?”

“Well, if a water elf had children with an earth elf, their children are either water elves or earth elves, not a mixture of the features of both, like with humans. Or well… I think the features might mix a bit, but it’s always a full blooded member of only one sub species.”

“I didn’t realise that. My… mentor, back in Thetwick, Bernard told me of far off elven realms, like Water, Wood and Earth. He’d never been to one though. Do they really exist?”

“I don’t know. I have never been there either. There are books by travellers who have visited. The Kingdom of Water certainly exists. Wood too… that’s another elven Kingdom. I don’t think humans are allowed there – Wood that is. I think anyone can visit Water. I think those two border each other, making up a small continent called Alfheim, just North of eastern Iurrak. I’d also say that Earth definitely exists. It borders Selinus to our Northwest, so we don’t have too much interaction with them in Iurrak. Metal is far to the Southwest, beyond Selinus and even Dwarfholme. I’ve never spoken to anyone who has been there I don’t think, but I wouldn’t really call that a very good reason to assume it doesn’t exist. Then there’s Fire, the legend is that that can’t be entered at all – a cursed land, they say. I think it was south of Selinus. southwest of the Orck Mountains, even.

“Fire is cursed?”

“That’s what they say. Those books I read are mostly hundreds of years old. So, just a little out of date. Though, when dealing with people who live for a thousand years, concepts like ‘out of date’ become a little troublesome. Still worth a read, though. But I do know that you can still visit Water, at least and probably Earth too. But… damn it, you’re interrupting my lecture. Where was I?”

“Reproduction, I think. I’m sorry, do go on.”

“Oh yes. Well, mostly the elves I know of live among humans, sometimes they tend to stay together in a section of town, or maybe a village, but most of the elves I’ve seen or heard about live in human settlements. Elves don’t have very many children so the population isn’t very big and hardly grows if at all. Other than that, you’re just like very good looking, long-lived, thoughtful and patient humans mostly. The stories say that each elven sub type had or has magical abilities related to their background, but recent scholars have said those are just myths. Some of those scholars are even elves themselves. Also, I’ve read scholars who vehemently disagree, but they tend not to be written by elves, so, which to believe, ay? ‘Recent’ seems to be a flexible term though in scholarly circles. But, then again, I suppose to an elf, a century might well be recent. Anyway, maybe it’s all just a big conspiracy to hide elven abilities? Who knows? Bit far fetched, but life is stranger than fiction.”

“What sort of magic did they used to have then?”

“Well, it’s obvious really. Fire elves can control fire, water elves can breathe underwater or something. Maybe they can manipulate it, like waves and things. Earth elves can feel the earth… a bit like dwarves can really. But that’s a real ability, not just a myth. Metal elves could bend steel, some say there were metal elves that couldn’t be cut by steel weapons and could cause steel tipped arrows to fall out of the sky or reverse direction. I don’t think that’s true either. It’s all things like that.”

“Dwarves can really feel the earth?”

“Well, it’s not like a magical ability with sparks and lightning or anything. Not like a proper wizard. It’s just they know where to dig to sink a well or to build a tunnel or to find ore. That kind of thing. But that’s not about elves, don’t make me digress.”

“Sorry. Please continue.”

“Do you always digress like this? I thought you wanted to hear about elves?”

“I want to know all you can tell me.”

“I was quite a good student. Teaching you everything I know would take as least as I took to learn it… It could take twenty years, far too long!”

Ala just looked at her, raising her eyebrows a tiny bit.

“Oh right… yes… I suppose that wouldn’t matter all that much to you.”

“Whenever you want to share, I’d love to listen, I didn’t have very good teachers,” Ala said softly.

Myrthe smiled, “oh okay, I suppose digressing makes less of a difference too then. Where were we?”

“Dwarves I think… and wizards. They sound interesting too.”

“Not all that many wizards around either. Not as rare as fire elves, though I think the closest human wizard of any power may well live in Erythrae. Or maybe Sarghoun. Though they often don’t advertise their presence. On account of the superstition, you know. There may well be a few, who don’t advertise. Actually, I’m almost certain there must be.”

“Sarghoun, that’s the capital of Selinus, isn’t it?”

“Yes, now don’t interrupt all the time.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t know much of what goes on in Selinus. I don’t think anyone here does… but… I wasn’t done talking about wizards yet. The Duke, you know, of Taladaria? He has a court wizard. I don’t think he’s much good. Comes from a wizarding school down south somewhere or so he says. Aqaba I think. More wizards there, as I understand it. Slaves too.”

Ala was shocked, “they keep slaves? That’s… that’s awful.”

“Yes, lots of them, quite normal in Aqaba. They have a sort of indentured servitude in Selinus that isn’t much different. You could even argue that the lowliest serf’s aren’t really free either, even in Iurrak.”

Ala had never known about that either, suppressing her desire to express her disgust as Myrthe continued. She wasn’t aware of that kind of servitude in the Westmarch. She wasn’t really sure why the idea was so repugnant to her. Perhaps it was something instilled in her even before she came to Thetwick?

“I don’t think there’s anything like that in the Westmarch?”

“No, the Westmarch is different, there’s a sort of charter. The Westmarch is a bit of an odd case, it wasn’t part of Taladaria and therefore Iurrak until quite a short time ago. The title is personal, and the customs and rights associated with it are as they always were. So no indenture there. I think some of the inhabitants actually live there because they wanted to escape their indenturement.”

“Really? I never knew.”

“Anyway, back to the Duke’s court wizard. The story is that he burnt down a kitchen trying to boil water. I assume what really happened was a bit more complicated that that, but that’s the way the story is told among the commoners. So, good wizards are hard to find nowadays, at least in the north. They tend to be a little reclusive too, probably because people feel uneasy about magic.”

“Just uneasy?”

“I suppose you have a point. They do get themselves into frenzies over witches and the like, from time to time. Bad things, like lynchings and burning people at the stake, happen every now and again. Normally it happens to poor dumb souls who have no appreciable magic to speak of, I think.”

“I can see that happening in Thetwick.”

“So there may be a few more wizards trying to be invisible, but it won’t be much. Proper wizarding is far more common in elves, though they have a different philosophy of how to apply it. I think the only actual community of wizards there is to speak of in all of Iurrak is their Guild in Erythrae.”

Ala sighed, “I have so much to learn. I think I stayed in Thetwick too long.”

“So how… uhm… old are you? If it isn’t too impolite to ask?”

“I don’t mind. I don’t really know. I was found by one of the Duke’s patrols, near what was probably an ambush site. As far as I’ve been able to work out that was maybe a century and a half ago. It didn’t really occur to me to start counting until I was in Thetwick for… probably a few decades. I was very young when I arrived. Perhaps a decade more, by now. I don’t know much else.”

Myrthe’s mouth opened in shock.

“You’re more than one and a half centuries old? I mean… I know… well… I read the books… but still… you look… maybe… twenty, if that, if you were human?”

Ala shrugged, “I don’t know how old I was when I arrived. I think in total it’s probably more like two centuries. Though I’ve never been able to learn much about elven children and how they age, so I could be wrong.”

Myrthe shook her head, “wow. It’s so… strange… to just be sitting next to you like it’s normal. Two hundred years ago it was a different world!”

“Was it? Thetwick was just a hamlet when I first arrived there, that’s true, but things haven’t changed all that much.”

“No… I suppose your perspective on that would be a little different.”

“I wish I knew who my parents were.”

“You have no idea?”

“None. All I have is some fragments of a cloak and a sword sheath. Oh, and this sword of course, though it was damaged. It was just a blade and quillons. I repaired the rest.”

“That isn’t much, but maybe you can find elves who can help? Elves live so long that I’d think that’s by far your best chance of learning something.”

“I should meet other elves, you’re probably right about that. Someone must remember something. Maybe I can even find some fire elves?”

“No one has seen a fire elf for a long time, that I know of. Until today, I guess. Maybe they’re all hiding in the elven lands? You’d be better off talking to an actual elf about that, I’m sure. Preferably an old one who lives in an elven realm. Elves who live among humans are never going to be up to date on what’s happened. Some of them have been away from other elves for centuries too. If your disguise worked better in Thetwick, I’m probably one of a handful of humans who has actually realised they’re talking to a real fire elf in a long time… centuries maybe?”

“A few people in Thetwick did know, even before I did.” Ala said, thinking of Gabriel, Bernard and Palady.

“Before you did?”

“I grew up believing I was a half-elf, until recently in fact.”

“That’s really wild. Being in the know sounds like an exclusive club though,” she giggled, “what are you going to do in Peyrepertuse? That is where you’re going I take it? There’s little else of consequence between there and here. If I may ask?”

“There’s no secret. My… err, adoptive uncle, mentor, whatever – he was the Captain of the Thetwick militia – passed away a few days ago. He made me his heir, he never had children of his own. There’s an unpleasant man in Thetwick who is contesting his will.”

“Your mentor was a militia Captain? Thetwick is one of the border towns that the last Duke meant to strengthen with better militias? It must be then. I suppose that makes sense.”

“Yes, that’s right. You know about that?”

“My father keeps up with things concerning Taladaria’s defence and used to insist on telling me about it,” she shrugged, “but if your, err, mentor was so important in Thetwick, how is it that this man is causing you such problems?”

“He’s the Constable of Thetwick.”

“Oh, I see. That certainly complicates things.”

“I’m trying to get to the Duke’s court. Hopefully I can prove the Constables version of the will is a forgery. That will also prove he’s corrupt at the same time. That man has deserved the gallows for a long time. In fact, that whole family has been rotten for generations,” Ala said, thinking of previous Constables as well as Gordon Marchmain.

“How… oh… of course… you’ve known him your… no his… whole life.”

“Yes, well he’s got a lot to lose. His father was a corrupt bastard too and his father’s father… his uncle is a murderer.”

“A murderer?”

“Happened about twenty years ago. He managed to get away though, fled the Westmarch. Presumably with the Constable’s help.”

“It keeps on amazing me that you knew all these people… no you probably saw them born and then grow old. You talk about something that happened when I was an infant as if it was yesterday. It’s amazing!”

“Anyway, that’s why I asked you to watch the road. I recognised some of the Constable’s men at the Ford Inn. He sent them to catch up to me. He has got to stop me getting to the Duke’s court to save his neck.”

“If what you’re saying is true and can be reasonably proven, I think the Duke will be forced to investigate, at least. How far do you think this Constable will go?”

“I doubt he’s above murdering me to stop me. I’ve heard some really nasty tales about him over the years. He is the most powerful man in Thetwick town since Bernard passed away but his influence doesn’t really stretch outside of the Westmarch, as far as I know.”

She glanced back down the road. Nothing to be seen.

“He sent men after you?”

“Yes. He is probably doing anything he can to make sure I can’t get to Peyrepertuse.”

“If he has as much to lose as you say you need to be very careful in Peyrepertuse too. He will have messengers on the way there as well. There’s reputed to be a thieves guild in Duilhac that’s happy to take assassination contracts. If he’s so worried, what’s to stop him from sending a fast runner to get ahead of you? One of these caravans moves very slowly. He could easily put out a contract on you.”

“I know. Well… I know I wouldn’t necessarily be safe in Duilhac. The Thieves Guild, I didn’t know. I’ll just have to take extra care. First things first though, I’m more worried about the right to bear arms at the moment. I can’t exactly ride around the countryside like a knight errant. I have two very valuable blades with me that mean a lot to me. I couldn’t bear to lose them. That’s why I joined this caravan. I needed to be on the master’s charter as a guard so I can legally be armed.”

“Well, maybe we should stick together for now. I could kind of use someone nearby who knows their way around a sword as it turns out. I’d prefer not to get raped like almost happened last night and perhaps I can help you here and there as well.”

“You almost got raped? At Hightower? That’s terrible!”

“Yes. Well. Guanshiyin lets you hear the cries of the world in many ways. I got away from them, let’s leave it at that. But that’s not the point. I am of noble blood and failing all else I could carry the blades for you if we have to leave the caravan…”

“Really? You’re a Lady? Lady Myrthe… I’ve never really met a noble before.”

“I’m the youngest of five siblings and, of course, a daughter. Sent off to the temple for the crime of being redundant. That’s what it feels like, anyway. Not that I’m really complaining, there’s a lot of learning and a lot of freedom in Guanshiyin’s faith. But before you make me digress again. The important point, when it comes to bearing arms, is that my father is the Baron of Easthall.”

“Wow. I don’t know what to say… and… I’m being so familiar with you. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“Of course not. In fact, it’s one of the nicest things about being a Priestess. People act a lot more normally. Still, the family thing is good for something every now and again. We don’t use our titles when in the service of Guanshiyin though, it’s not permitted by the High Priests, at least not in official things. Sometimes people say things like ‘Lady Priestess’ but we’re not allowed to do it to each other.”

Myrthe stopped speaking and looked thoughtful for a second before continuing, “technically, I suppose I could even write a charter allowing you to carry weapons as my man-at-arms…. elf-at-arms? I’ve never done that, but I guess I’m allowed to. I’ve never really considered it before… I don’t think it’s a customary thing for female nobles to do, but I don’t think anyone can stop me. It feels a little… irregular for a Priestess…” Myrthe giggled to herself again, “not completely sure what the high priestess would have to say about me having like a mercenary bodyguard. It must also be a bit irregular for a Priestess of Guanshiyin to be accompanied by a man-at-arms… elf-at-arms. Oh well, who cares? I’m the one on Sojourn, not her.”

Myrthe’s attitude appealed to Ala.

“Well I promise to protect you as well as I can until we get to Peyrepertuse. It might be an idea to write that charter though, last night I almost needed one in a hurry.”

“Guanshiyin’s teachings say that the Sojourn is about hearing the cries of the world. It’s okay to protect yourself and compassion is not the same as letting people rape you, even if compassion can be something you do physically.”

“Physical compassion? What does that mean?”

“From what I’ve read, it’s whatever is needed. Guanshiyin is very pragmatic. Anyway, I’ll write a right to bear arms for you first chance I get. When we’re not in a moving wagon, that is.”

The caravan stopped around midday to water and feed the oxen. Myrthe helped Ala look after Fulgor. Ala bought some extra oats from the caravan master to make sure Fulgor got the energy he needed. He was a tall black horse with a long black mane and feathering around his hooves. Myrthe whispered to him and he was friendly, which was out of character for him. He didn’t get along with anyone other than Ala normally.

“He likes you. That makes you the first human he likes, I think.”

“I like him too. He’s beautiful. Any knight would be proud to have him. He must be very valuable. Is he really yours?”

“Yes, I used almost all the silver in my inheritance to buy him. Even so, I think Harald was probably nice about the price. Though I don’t think anyone but me actually likes riding him. They all say he’s such a handful. I used to ride for the horse breeders in Thetwick. Their war horses need to be fit. I was a popular exercise rider. Eventually they let me train them too.”

“You must be quite the equestrian then.”

“I think horses just like the sound of elven, to be honest. It calms them. Makes it easy.”

“You speak elven then?”

“I only get to practice on animals, but yes, I remember the language. I can even read it, though I have no idea how or when I learned. I’m worried I have the most awful accent. Now you’re making me digress.”

“Oh, sorry. Do go on.”

“Well, it’s how I met Fulgor here. Been looking after him since he was a foal. He never got along with anyone but me. He cost me most of my inheritance, but I didn’t want to leave him behind.”

“Well, your adoptive uncle wasn’t a poor man then. There are proper knights who couldn’t afford a horse like him. It makes sense to fight for his inheritance if there are lands too.”

“Does it? I’m not so sure. I think I was only staying in Thetwick because I knew that compared to my life, the few more years left to Bernard wouldn’t really matter. I wanted to stay with him… until the end. He deserved that much, my life in Thetwick would have been awful without him. He took me in, always provided anything I needed. I’m not really sure it would have been bearable… or safe without him. I’m only really going after this whole inheritance because Bernard wished me to take care of his lands. I’ll probably entrust it to Harald if I manage to sort it all out.”

“Harald?”

“Just a good man I’ve known all his life. He’s the man who bred Fulgor. Known him since he was very young. His father died in the first real skirmish I was in, with raiders from Oakharrow.”

“You fought in this skirmish?” said Myrthe, looking concerned.

“Yes. It was the first time I really had to fight.”

“And how old is this Harald?”

“Somewhere in his forties, I guess.”

“That’s so.. elven. Interesting that even one and half centuries among humans doesn’t really change that. I wonder if it’s inherent in such a long lifespan. So what happens after you’ve set things up with Harald? What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know? Offer my sword to the Duke? Seek out other elves? I don’t know. One thing at a time.”

“But maybe you have an idea what sort of life you’d like? Like I chose Guanshiyin and priesthood?”

“My only point of reference is how the people of Thetwick lived their lives. It never really appealed to me. There’s more out there, I’ve heard that much from travellers.”

“Oh that’s certainly true. I’ve mostly only travelled around Taladaria, but even there there’s all sorts of things from farmers to hunters and sailors. Soldiers who defend when the Orcks come down. There’s lots of places that can always use someone who knows there way around a sword.”

“I suppose… I’d also really like to solve the mystery of who I am and where I’m from. I don’t really want to watch the humans I love grow old and die… not too often, anyway, I don’t think I could bear that.”

“That must be very hard. But, you have some direction then, which I think is good. I’m already curious what you will discover!”

After the meal, the caravan got back on the road. They continued to chatter the rest of the day, getting to know each other and getting along very well. No nasty horsemen appeared behind them that day. There were farmsteads off the road on either side where you could exchange horses if you could afford it. Perhaps her pursuers had done that. That could put them ahead of her, they might have overtaken the caravan at one of the points where the road made long loops up a hill. Riders had a lot of opportunities for short cuts in the hairpin bends and often used them. Ala suspected there would be a confrontation before she ever got to Peyrepertuse.

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Disclaimer: This is not the final version as it will be available from the usual e-book sellers and eventually, bookstores. Rather, it should be seen as an (almost) final draft. If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, or you have any comments, suggestions or thoughts that you feel I should consider before publishing please drop me a line using the contact form.

The Priestess’ Sojourn

Fulgor was fitter and more energetic than Norbert’s horses, his stamina had always been superior to most other steeds. He would easily outlast the nags Norbert and his crew were outfitted with. She rode as hard as she dared and hoped the Customs Officers were being very thorough in their questioning. She rode for Hightower, the first caravan stop in Taladaria. Getting there riding a single spirited stallion wasn’t hard even if he was tired. She was a lot lighter than the knights he was bred to transport into battle. After some hours riding through the low brush that was to either side of the road, the sun started to rise ahead of her. It painted a pretty picture in the sky with reds and yellows. There had been rain recently, making the area smell of spring. She didn’t come across another living soul until she was almost at Hightower, when she saw some people out who were probably off to tend to fields or similar chores.

The caravan stop was near where the rough road from the Westmarch joined the King’s Road that led north along the Iceflow river towards Pearson. The King’s Road also led southeast in the direction of Peyrepertuse, passing by Turnow and Kilbrook. There was another small settlement, primarily for caravans, along the road before Turnow, she knew. It was named Larkhill, but she had never been there. It was at about a day’s travel by ox drawn wagon from Hightower. Bernard had once explained to her that that it was common along well travelled roads to find facilities that catered to the needs of caravans roughly one day’s oxcart ride apart.

There was a large farmstead at Hightower. It too mainly existed to see to the needs of passing caravans and travellers. It was another chartered inn, with all the customary obligations such establishments had, but it also had all sorts of facilities. There was an ancient, more or less standing, fortified tower, which was what the hamlet was named for. The tower was much older than the rest of the buildings and even at a distance it looked like it was in dire need of maintenance. As she rode closer she could see the tower was actually the last part of a larger structure and the only part that was still standing.

By the time she got to Hightower the sun had risen fullyt and most travellers were already on their way. The fresh tracks leading away from the paddock were clearly visible and most of the yard was empty. She considered for a moment. She was tired but she needed to keep moving to stay ahead of her pursuers. She decided on continuing on up the road. She rode at a slow trot, sparing Fulgor and looking for one of the caravans that had departed Hightower that morning. They couldn’t be far ahead of her. She was beginning to have trouble concentrating so she was relieved when she saw the last wagons of a caravan appearing around a slight bend in the road.

She caught up to the convoy trundling along ahead of her. She counted eight wagons, though six were more properly described as enormous barrels with wheels, each pulled by four oxen. The last two wagons were more conventional pulled by only two oxen each, filled with a smattering of smaller barrels as well as feed for the oxen and other baggage. Neither of those wagons were full, there was plenty of room in each cart for odds and ends as well as passengers. Such caravans, specialised in beer and wine weren’t of a kind that ever frequented Thetwick. There was no market in the Westmarch for spirits in such quantities and the Thetwickers had to make do with smaller barrels.

She rode past the last wagon which was indeed occupied by a passenger, a young woman in blue, embroidered priestess robes who seemed absorbed with staring intently down the road, evidently lost in thought. She sat with her back against her satchel, facing backwards. Strangely, the young priestess didn’t even seem to notice her as she approached. She had a look of concentration, as if she was pondering some great matter. Fulgor trotted on, taking her past all the wagons until she paralleled the first one. A man, obviously the caravan master was sitting on the bench next to the driver. He was slightly overweight and expensively dressed in green velvet with puffy sleeves, with a neat beard and a somewhat red nose to complement his matching green hat. He was dozing, not quite snoring yet, but that seemed likely to start very soon. He prominently displayed his master’s medallion, a silver and gold disc on a heavy gold chain around his neck which identified him as a Master of the caravanners guild.

“Excuse me, Master?”

The man shifted slightly taking a few seconds to open his eyes and focus on her. By the colour of his nose it seemed like he might indulge in his own wares on a regular basis.

“Hmm… huh… what is it?” His eyes slowly focused on her, “oh… who are you? What do you want?”

He looked around, frowning as he tried to clear the sleep and wine from his mind. He clearly hadn’t expected to be woken by someone that wasn’t travelling with his caravan, “what do you want?” he repeated.

“Sorry to wake you, Master. I’m Alagariel… I’d like to travel under your charter.”

“Under my charter?” he asked, still not fully awake… “where to?”

“I’m headed to Peyrepertuse.”

He glanced at her again, frowning as he became fully awake.

“I have enough guards. Don’t need more… you don’t look like much of a guard anyway… not enough meat to ya. You should be on your way, lass.”

She had seen three men, two were overweight, one was old. It didn’t look like much to her even if they did all have crossbows. She was annoyed that he might think she wasn’t up to the task.

“I was a militia patrol leader. I will be valuable if there is trouble along the journey. Your guards are not young men and they’re not in the best shape. You won’t need to pay me, Master.”

He rubbed the last sleep from his eyes and looked her over a little better. He didn’t look inclined to agree.

“I said, be on…”

“Look, I just need to be able to travel to Peyrepertuse bearing arms. I am willing to pay you for your trouble, if you will feed and board me with the rest of the caravan.”

“A paying passenger? Now that’s different. We can talk.”

“A paying passenger listed on your charter and who will defend your caravan if need be. How much?”

“Thirty silver coins. Good ones.”

It was highway robbery, not that she couldn’t afford it. She just wanted to make her money last.

“That’s a little steep Master. Surely you can do better than that? How about ten silver?”

They eventually settled on twenty-two. It was still a lot of money for the service he was offering. She had been up all night though and was not in a mood to drag things out. She had no way of knowing if there was another caravan ahead of this one or how far it might be, so she decided to take the opportunity while it was available.

She slowed down, letting the caravan pass her by until she came to the last wagon. There, she loosened Fulgor’s saddle and tied him to the last wagon, sitting herself down in the back, next to one of the smaller barrels. She wasn’t the only one there, the young woman in the priestess robes sat there too, still looking back down the road with a look of quiet concentration. She was apparently just as wrapped up in her thoughts as she had been when Ala had passed her by on her way to negotiate with the caravan master. She didn’t seem very communicative, though she had a bright look to her. Ala decided she’d say hello, contrary to her habits. The young woman just looked welcoming for some reason.

“Hello priestess.”

The woman, looked over at Ala, like her daydream had been interrupted. She was more a girl than a woman, Ala decided. The priest’s robes made her look older. She was a little plain with a round face, but she hard warm, inquisitive brown eyes and dirty blonde hair in a long braid. What she lacked in fine beauty, she easily made up for with the warmth and welcome she radiated.

“Oh… sorry. I was just daydreaming. My name is Myrthe, I’m a servant of Guanshiyin.”

“I’m Alagariel. It is nice to meet you.”

For some reason, Ala really meant it. There was something about the girl. The priestess looked her over, studying Alagariel’s face inside her hood, “you look tired. Oh…. and you have… pointy… ears…” she said it, having moved her head to see inside her hood. “You’re an elf and your name really is Alagariel. How intriguing.”

She seemed a little puzzled for no reason that Ala could determine. It was a bit rude really, she thought, trying to see under her hood and commenting on her ears, but the priestess was so open and innocent about it that she didn’t feel defensive.

“I’m a half-elf and I didn’t rest very much last night.”

“Well. I’ve never properly met a half-elf before. Or well, I have, I’ve just never really conversed with one. Not for any length of time anyway. There was a short conversation with an elf once. That was interesting. Anyway. Sorry… I’m rambling. I’m a little nervous. I’ve just started my Sojourn, you see.”

“What’s a Sojourn?”

“You don’t know? I thought it was common knowledge?”

“Apparently not in the Westmarch.”

“Well I’ll explain. When you’re ordained as a Priestess of Guanshiyin, you are to go out and listen to the ‘cries of the world’. You with me so far?”

Ala nodded that she understood, though she felt that ‘listening to the cries of the world’ could mean just about anything.

“Now this is where it gets a little hazy for me as well. Near as I can imagine, I think you’re supposed to come back when you’ve figured out what is meant by that… the more I think about it, the more I do wish there had been more of an explanation.”

She looked as if that revelation had only just come to her, with a concentrated frown on her face.

“So it’s a sort of a right of passage then? How long have you been travelling?”

“I was educated in the temple in Doncastle. I left with this caravan last week. I’m going to Peyrepertuse first.”

“Guanshiyin is the Lady of Compassion, I think?”

“Yes, yes she is. Puzzling, isn’t it?”

That struck Ala as an odd thing for a priestess to say.

“Could I ask you something?”

Myrthe shook her head, like she was freeing herself from a thought to pay more thorough attention to her.

“Please do.”

“I’m really tired, and there may be some unfriendly men after me. Their horses were tired, so I don’t think they have much chance of catching up today, but I’d feel much better if you would wake me up whenever someone or something unknown rides up the road behind us. I’d love to talk more after I’ve had a little rest.”

“Oh you poor thing. Go ahead, sleep. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

The young woman seemed genuine and endlessly sincere.

“Thank you, Priestess.”

Ala found a comfortable position and pulled her hood over her eyes to hide the fact that she wouldn’t really be asleep.

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