JC Eberdt

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.

Chapter 5: Homecoming

It has long been challenging for a Lord to exert his authority over unruly underlings. Many a relationship between a vassal and his lord has grown sour for lack of a lord effectively managing his relationship with his vassals. Even if there is no vassal who may be prone to delusions of grandeur, this is still no guarantee that a lord’s authority will remain uncontested. Many a lord is forced to defend his title within his own borders, even in times of relative peace. It is to be encouraged for a Lord to forge bonds of alliance and marriage with his vassals. Shared economic interest is another strategy that can contribute to a stable bond between a Lord and his vassals. This is not enough however and a Lord should diligently and regularly visit every corner of his realm, doing so is absolutely vital to its integrity. Failing to maintain such bonds can lead to a collapse of the relationship and even become dangerous for everyone involved as such problems can easily result in charges of treason or violent revolt by a vassal.

While a canny lord may be tempted to administer a fief himself, simply dispensing with giving it in vassalage to anyone, this tends to lead to even greater problems. A realm of any significant size requires day to day supervision and a Lord simply cannot be everywhere at once. Hence, a fief directly administered without its lords very regular presence is very likely to lead to unpleasant surprises brewing up in the unsupervised fief. This is one of the many reasons why the practice of giving more than one regnant title to a single person, should absolutely be avoided.

From the book “On Kingship” by Selinus IV, “The Scholar”, King of Selinus, circa 260

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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.

Return to the Westmarch

Eventually, the warband had taken shape. The whole company ended up numbering almost fourty. Caerel was in overall command, fulfilling the role of Captain. There was a troop of ten experienced cavalrymen with mail, shields, swords and long spears, mounted on Frisian destriers that had all been bred in the Westmarch. Next were ten of the Duke’s elite mounted pikemen with five-yard-pikes, shields, light crossbows, and swords. They were mounted on lighter steeds. Last were ten mounted archers. They were equipped with short swords and longbows, which they had to dismount to employ. There was also a small supply train with wagons and crossbow armed teamsters to transport feed, tents and everything else that was needed when a warband travelled.

The gruff Sergeant-Major, Brugor, was assigned to the expedition as well. Ala assumed he would be granted early retirement and made Captain of the Westmarch Militia if things went according to plan. Myrthe had explained it was a customary posting for competent senior enlisted men who were nearing retirement age. Ala wondered who they had in mind to take the post of Constable. Perhaps the Duke would send someone on after them for the job or maybe they would select another Thetwick local to do it. She wondered who she might recommend, if she was consulted. Probably Harald, she decided. Not that it was a pressing problem, a Captain could certainly look after a Constable’s duties for a while if needed.

Myrthe had asked Ala to try to teach her to meditate, but the priestess was absent from her bedchamber every time Ala went to look for her. She could guess where she was and what she was doing of course. She judged it unlikely that practising meditation had the highest priority and gave up on it, deciding to let Myrthe take the initiative.

It had taken a week to gather the supplies, people and horses. They left Peyrepertuse a little after dawn on First, a full week after the eventful session of the Duke’s Court. The weather was clear and only marred by the occasional spring shower. Caerel was mounted on an enormous white Percheron at the head of the column, with a guard Lieutenant named Hieronymus assigned as second in command by his side. Hieronymus was a tall, gaunt man, his brown hair greying, who had been in the guard forever. Gladiuth had told her he never really seemed likely to hold more than the Lieutenant’s rank he now held. It was clear that the Duke intended for Caerel to do the leading and Brugor was there to keep an eye on him. Why Hieronymus had been selected to come along wasn’t really clear to Ala? Perhaps the Duke didn’t want a powerful personality influencing Caerel’s leadership? Ala didn’t really see why the man had been sent along.

The baggage train consisted of five wagons filled with supplies. Each was drawn by two quick draft horses so they could keep up a good pace. They were intending to travel at twice the speed of an ox drawn caravan, meaning they should be able to make it to Thetwick in around eight days. A week’s practice had taught Matt how to sit on a horse without falling off. They had found him a gentle but energetic brown mare that wasn’t likely to scare easily and throw him. He wouldn’t be doing any lance charges, but neither was he going to fall off at the first sign of trouble. Ala was riding Fulgor and the Duke had let Myrthe pick one of the guard horses, an energetic grey gelding named Peter. Alagariel had dared to ride through Duilhac without her hood up. People stopped to stare and point at Myrthe who was riding beside Ala as they rode by.

“Myr, why are they pointing and staring at you?”

“Oh Ala, you dolt, you’re so naive. It’s not me. Do you have any idea what these people see when you ride by?”

“I don’t understand what you mean?”

“What do you think you look like in mail with those pointy ears and that red-golden hair and a cape trailing behind you, seated on an eighteen hand black stallion, surrounded by the Duke’s soldiers and colours?”

“Well you certainly make it sound like it should be something cool…”

“It’s like something out of a faerytale. You touch the imagination, which, as I understand it, is precisely what your people have done for elvenkind for millennia! Truly, how can you not understand that they’re looking at you? Gods, you’re so oblivious sometimes!”

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.

Preparing to March

The Duke had ordered that a company of warriors be organised to restore the offices of Thetwick. He also needed to select a new Captain and Constable for the region. Putting together what was really a temporary, self sufficient unit took a little while. In the meantime Matt was helping the guard root out as much of the Thieves’ Guild as he could. It showed just how powerful the organisation had become. It was deeply infiltrated in many levels of Duilhac society. The town was in an uproar as Matt pointed out several City Guardsmen that he knew to be on the Thieves Guild payroll. The dungeons were crowded and soldiers of the Duke’s Regiment were scouring the city and had take over the civil dungeon in Duilhac as well, both because they needed the space and the Duke felt her couldn’t be sure of the City Guard’s loyalty. The Duke himself had gone down to Duilhac several times to make certain things were being handled to his standards.

Myrthe and Alagariel were invited to stay at Peyrepertuse, both as a social courtesy and so they would be closer at hand to the preparations for the expedition while the city was being turned inside out. Ala brought Fulgor up from Guanshiyin’s stables the next day.

“Are you sure you want to come to Thetwick, Myr?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. I don’t feel like you have played your part yet Ala. Unless you have tired of my company?”

“No, no, I would love for you to come… I don’t think I could ever tire of our friendship. I just feel like I am leading you in circles… there must be something more important for you to do, mustn’t there? Other than travelling up and down the road to Thetwick?”

“I’ll be the judge of that. I’m on Sojourn. I am listening to the cries of the world. They ring loudly around you. Besides, I hear that Caerel is to be leader of the expedition,” she said with a naughty look. “Oh and I think it’s quite a nice road,” she added with an amused smile. “No one said following cries would be straightforward. Or that you can’t have a little fling on the way.”

Ala shook her head, “incorrigible. Be that as it may, though, I’ll be glad to have you along. I’m worried what we’ll find in Thetwick. The Constable has had free reign all this time. The Thets will not be having an easy time of it.”

“I understand. One other thing, too. We can’t leave Matt here. He’s still too dangerous to the guild. They will try for him again and again.”

“The condition for his freedom is that he helps against the guild.”

“I know! But that effect is already being achieved. The patrols are discovering more and more places where the thieves simply ceased doing whatever they were doing and have vanished. His knowledge was so complete, they are completely changing their way of doing things. He doesn’t need to be here. Just the demonstrated effectiveness of his knowledge is sufficient for the Guild to pack up shop for now. They’ll just lie low or relocate. The guard will be better off giving them some time and space and then revisiting their old haunts in a few months when they think the danger is gone.”

“How are we going to convince the Duke of this?”

“I have an idea. I’m going to go find Caerel.”

“How are your horizontal activities going to help us?”

Myrthe stuck out her tongue at her before she explained. “He’s going to present my idea to the Duke as his own. Trust me, it will work out fine.”

Myrthe was being her usual secretive self and refused to tell her what she had in mind. But, sure enough, Matt came by that evening saying that he had been ordered to accompany them to Thetwick. He still looked out of place in his Regimental uniform.

“I don’t really understand, I haven’t led the guard to more than half of the places and people I know have something to do with the guild.”

“How many of those places have yielded results?” Asked Ala.

“Less and less, I guess. The guild is catching on quickly that they’ve been burned. It’s to be expected really. It’s what I would do.”

“So, perhaps it’s better to let them think you know less than you do. Leave them alone for a while, and then hit the rest in a few months?”

“That’s a good idea actually, I should mention it to the Captain…” Myrthe gave him a look.

“Oh. Right…. You?”

Myrthe just looked at him for a moment. When Matt realised she wasn’t going to say anything, he continued.

“Ok, ok, I get it… off to Thetwick it is.”

“Do you actually know how to ride a horse, city boy?” Myrthe asked.

“Sure, seen people do it all the time.”

Ala and Myrthe looked at one another.

“We’d better go and practice a bit,” Ala said.

They also had a visitor in the days leading up to their departure. They were out in the practice yard, Myrthe was teaching Matt to ride, and Ala was practising weapons drills when Talathiel strode into the courtyard. Her turquoise blue hair was unmistakable and to accentuate it she was wearing an ornate robe with an intricate pattern of blues and greens. Her cloak was in the same colour scheme and it billowed out behind her as she walked. Following behind her at a distance, taking its time sniffing things, was a black bear. She singled out Ala and headed straight for her. Ala quickly excused herself from her practice partner. Talathiel and Georgina drew quite a few stares. Gladiuth, who was also out in the yard, approached to head her off. He appeared worried the woman might do something mad. He called from a distance.

“Hello auntie, out and about? We don’t often see you leave the shop. What’s the occasion?”

“I wish you wouldn’t use these human familiar family terms. I can’t imagine anyone actually wishes to be referred to as an ‘aunt’, Gladiuth. As if my existence is somehow dependent on my relationship to you. Unless it’s their sole claim to fame, I suppose. In any event, shoo, I came to speak to Lady Alagariel.”

Gladiuth had reached her, clasped her hands and kissed her cheek in the elven manner. Ala approached and fumbled a bit with the hand-clasping kissing ritual. Talathiel shook her head with a slightly amused look.

“Good effort child. Perhaps we can sit over on those steps and talk for a bit?”

“Aunt Tala, now that you’re here for once,” pleaded Gladiuth, “please don’t forget to pay your respects to the Duke. Someone needs to save him from that incompetent Court Wizard.”

Talathiel glanced at him with a dismissive expression, “peh, he’s fine. Doesn’t need me.”

“Should I find you a room where you can speak to Lady Alagariel? It’s not fitting to sit out here in the practice yard.”

“Go away, Gladiuth.”

“Also, I still think you should do Jurgen’s job.”

“Gladiuth, he knows where to find me if he needs me or if Jurgen isn’t able to do what he needs. I’m not hanging around this dark Castle all the time. The shop is closer to the river. I prefer it.”

“Jurgen can barely boil water!”

“Come now, you’re not buying into that silly story like all the peasants are you? But, I will see if he is available after I have spoken to Alagariel, young nephew, just to see if there is anything pressing. Does that set your mind at ease?”

Talathiel had more of a sense of humour than Ala had given her credit for.

“Thank you, Tala,” said Gladiuth.

“Now, go away.”

“I didn’t realise you were a wizard,” said Ala.

“Oh, I thought someone would have mentioned it? I understand it’s prime gossip in Duilhac. Come along.”

“She’s a very talented Water Magister, in fact,” explained Gladiuth.

“Go on about doing whatever it is you do here, Gladiuth,” said Talathiel, shooing him off again, “I want to talk to Lady Alagariel now.”

Ala and Talathiel sat down on the steps leading up to one of the smaller courtyard buildings. Georgina had found a guard’s pack that must have some food in it. The bear was dexterously undoing the buckle that kept it shut. Talathiel clearly held the opinion that the bear’s activities didn’t warrant any action on her part and simply continued the conversation with Ala.

“I looked into you a little, young Alagariel, because I had an inkling of a sense of something when we met. Perhaps it’s destiny, though I’m reticent about using such weighty terms. I’m not sure how or what, it’s just a feeling, but elves have learned to take heed of such sensations. I feel an urge to be around you, but perhaps that’s just a hundred thousand years of fire elven charm ingrained in my bones. Anyway, I’m not going to follow you around like those two cute young humans over there,” she gestured at Myrthe and Matt, looking at them with an inscrutable expression.

After a moment of silence that was just long enough to make Ala think she should say something and wonder exactly how she knew the details of the expedition to Thetwick, Talathiel continued, “instead, I am going to give you something that Yesme helped me make.”

It was a small vial with two liquids, green and blue, which didn’t mix.

“It’s something to call me, when it’s time. You shake it like so…”

The green and blue liquids flowed into each other, looking a lot like the pattern on the robe she was wearing, “and you pour it into a body of water. That water must be connected to the other waters of the world, so a puddle won’t work unless you’re very lucky, but almost all streams, rivers, wells and oceans will. Be careful with mountain lakes, they are sometimes isolated. I will feel the call and know it is you.”

Ala accepted the vial. She decided there was not much point in asking what might happen after she had followed the instructions, though she was curious.

“What did you find out about me? Also, how do I know when it’s time to use this?”

“You’re almost as impatient as a human. It’ll be the upbringing. Or perhaps it’s fire elves… your elven kind does have a reputation for impatience… possibly its just been too long since I was around fire elves… so exhausting.”

Talathiel looked thoughtful for a moment again. Ala was finding her a challenging conversation partner.

“I digress. I looked into my pool, but I did not find much at all. Which is strange in and of itself. The world is generally clear to me, usually even magnified or a little exaggerated through my pool if I will it so. The only way that my view can be veiled, is if someone has taken the trouble to veil it, like an octopus using its ink cloud.”

“What does that mean?”

“Someone has used magic to hide you, dear. It has a metallic tang to it.”

Ala looked at her, somewhat awed, “an elf would have to have done this?”

“Well, there are others who can use magic, but I would say it was an elf, even specifically a very strong metal elf, just by the character of the magic. Water elves are traditionally most versed in seeing far. They are therefore also the ones who can best hide things in the vastness of the deep. I would say it was done by a metal elf, though any very skilful wizard could theoretically have done so. I expect it would be within the abilities of a Custodian of any of the elven kind. Or it should be… who knows how standards have slipped these days?”

“What is a Custodian?”

“Oh yes of course, we hadn’t yet covered the Custodians yet. Each nation of elves has a Tower of Magic. Historically, the Custodians report directly to the High Throne. Legend is that the first Custodians were ancient Alagariel’s own Cabal of mages, those that she often cooperated in casting circles with. Obviously that hasn’t worked that way in a while. The caretaker of each tower is called the Custodian. They are generally very promising wizards, though perhaps not all as strong as they were originally intended to be.”

“Well, there was once an elf somewhere who knows I existed, at least. That is more than I was sure of before. Thank you for taking the time to look into it, Mistress Talathiel. Now, when should I use this?”

Ala held up the vial.

“I think you’ll know when, but considering your lack of elven attunement, I will tell you what I saw. It is like a dream. I saw you standing on a hill, observing a field of campfires, like a camped army, with me next to you. That’s all.”

“I hope I will understand it when the time comes.”

“I’m not worried.”

Talathiel stood up.

“I’m going to find the Duke now. I will be seeing you quite soon I think.”

Talathiel stood up and strode off, though she stopped by Georgina for a moment, who was happily sitting in the middle of all the things she’d taken out of the guardsman’s bag. Talathiel looked at the bear with a stern expression.

“If you take things out of a bag, young Georgina, you also have to put them back! Imagine what a mess Taldyr would be if everyone behaved the way you do!”

She then turned and continued her route towards the keep. Georgina sniffed a few more items and then followed after her, leaving the contents of the bag where they were. Ala was left behind, wondering what on Vatan that had all been about. She put the vial in her pouch. Gladiuth reappeared once Talathiel had disappeared from view.

“Interesting, isn’t she?”

“She has a certain intensity to her. Like a wave breaking over you? How do I feel that way? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the sea?”

“Have you not? That is indeed strange. I have no answers for you, I’m afraid. That feeling though, it goes with water elves. My mother says there are also ones who are calm like mountain pool. Guess auntie Tala isn’t that sort.”

“You didn’t tell me she was a wizard.”

“Oh, I thought everyone knew. She’s about a zillion times more competent and smarter than that idiot Jurgen. She can’t be bothered to hang around at the castle though, to the Duke’s chagrin. He makes do with Jurgen unless there’s something important that needs attention. I’m not sure I have ever actually seen her do magic though. Jurgen is always muttering incantations, with mixed effects. She doesn’t appear to do it that way.”

“Well. She’s fascinating. Not exactly easy going, but very fascinating.”

“Good description. Anyway, let’s get back on the field, sword-forms don’t do themselves.”

“Do all elves have magic?”

“No… well not like Tala anyway. My mother is an inscribed Magister too and highly regarded in elven magical circles. She’s not in Tala’s league though. Though Tala praises her skills as an apothecary regularly.”

“So what’s the difference?”

“Well aside from the fact that Yesme is inscribed in Earth Magic… Tala is in a league of her own, the may my mother describes it. A connection to water magic that even other water mages can only dream of.”

“So there tends to be a lot of variation among inscribed magisters?”

“To be honest, not generally as I understand it. Talathiel’s connection is primal. It’s more like you and the fire, really, come to think of it.”

Ala sighed, “every step forward I take seems to result in a million more questions.”

“Such is the nature of inquiry. One of my early sword teachers used to say that a lot.”

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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 Duke’s Court

After the meal they walked to the Duke’s Court, which was always held in the Great Hall of the central keep. There seemed to be a lot more guards about than Ala had seen before. The Guard Captain obviously wasn’t taking any chances. She nodded a greeting to Brugor, he was among the guards arrayed inside the hall. He stood near the dais, near enough to the Duke to be able to intercede if anything unexpected happened. The big man gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement.

Abe was there already, chained up and looking despondent as he sat on a wooden bench with some other unfortunates, waiting. There was a gaggle of peasants on the right, and a few richer looking men at the front of the group. Ala surmised that It was probably a representative turnout for a day at the Lord’s Court. Just normal people that sought to bring their case before the Duke.

The procedure for a Lord’s court was a recipe for exasperation. People were noted down in order of arrival. The Lord heard cases, one by one, taking however much time he thought was necessary. At noon, court was over. If your case hadn’t been heard yet, you just had to come back next time, which was on Third, unless the Lord had a different engagement and cancelled that day’s court. Sometimes, the Duke would also designate someone else to hold court in his stead, Myrthe had explained, but the current Duke only did so rarely if he was in residence at Peyrepertuse.

Also, the Lord could decide a different matter had priority, moving everyone else back a space on the list. That was a right that the Duke chose to exercise today. He was seated in a high-backed chair behind an enormous table, in the middle of the long side on the raised platform at the head of the Hall. It was the same table and chair he sat at for banquets. To his left and right were a number of officials, including the Court Wizard, as well as a plains dwarf which was a species Ala had only ever seen at a distance before and two other men, one fat one wearing a robe and a priest’s medallion and Caerel. That startled her initially, but made sense after she considered it for a moment… The young man was the Duke’s heir. Familiarity with proceedings like these was vital. In fact he might already have to had to preside over the court numerous times if the Duke had been unavailable. There were also several scribes sitting at small writing tables to the side. There was a lot of talking in the hall until the Duke hit the table with his judge’s hammer. Then he addressed the dwarf.

“Master Gorek, a change of order. First we will hear the case brought by Lady Alagariel,” said the Duke.

The Dwarf nodded, “as you wish, your grace,” he said in a gruff voice and rearranged his papers.

There was discontented murmuring in the public area. Some of the people may well have been waiting for weeks to have their case heard for all Ala knew.

The dwarf spoke, “Lady Alagariel, please come forward and state your full name and the nature of your case for our records.”

Ala strode forward dropping her hood, which caused even more murmuring.

“Your grace, I am Alagariel, my home has been Thetwick. Until recently I was referred to as Alagariel Half-Elven due to confusion about my heritage. I am not a half-elf, but a fire elf. I come before you with a question about the estate of Bernard Alanson, the late Captain of the Westmarch Militia and a retired sergeant-major of the ducal regiment,” said Ala.

“I have been informed to some extent about the matter, Lady Alagariel,” said the Duke, “But please, for the court’s record, recount the whole tale.”

Ala told the whole story, from Bernard’s death, the events at the Town Council, the attempts on her life, the encounters with Abe and later Magnus, and the contract put out on her. The Duke listened dutifully until she was finished.

“Have you witnesses or evidence to support your tale, Lady Alagariel?”

It was the traditional question that came next.

“I do, your Grace. Lady Myrthe of Easthall, Priestess of Guanshiyin was present for many of these events. Matt, formerly of the Thieves’ Guild can tell of the contract placed on me. Abe, in chains over there knows the truth, though he may not speak easily. I have my copy of Captain Bernard’s will and perhaps the signature on it can be compared to his signature on your grace’s warrant assigning him the Captaincy of Westmarch. The forged will is still in Thetwick I am afraid, your Grace. I would also respectfully request leniency for Matt, if I may take this opportunity to do so, on the basis of his willingness to cooperate and expose the Thieves’ Guild.”

“I see. We will hear your witnesses now. The request for leniency has been noted and will be discussed separately.”

Myrthe and Matt told their tales as well. The Ducal warrant was produced from the archives, someone had seemingly already made sure it had been retrieved and each of the men at the table and the head scribe compared the two documents. They all individually noted down their opinion, and the anonymous vote was tallied by the Duke. Abe was brought forward. He was belligerent, but in awe of the Duke at the same time. The Duke questioned him himself. It did not take the old man long to wear him down. He implicated Magnus again, though Matt had already done that convincingly but he also confirmed Travis the Constable of Thetwick’s role. His description of what had happened with Bernard’s will at the council in Thetwick wasn’t of particular use, which was probably because he hadn’t really understood the proceeding.

“The signatures are unanimously agreed to match. I am convinced of the validity of this will that has been brought before my court by Lady Alagariel. Even without that, I find the validity of the other evidence overwhelming. I find the case brought by Lady Alagariel to be sufficiently proven. I judge this will to be the only one and only Last Will and Testament of Bernard Alanson of Thetwick, Captain of the Westmarch Militia and Lady Alagariel of Thetwick to be his only rightful heir. The litany of crimes against Taladaria brought to light by these testimonies leads to the following judgement. The Constable of Thetwick is hereby removed from office and sentenced to death by hanging as is his son Magnus of Thetwick. Abraham Toddson of Thetwick is sentenced to death by hanging.”

The Duke glanced over at Master Gorlek to be certain he had noted everything down.

“As for practical matters, the following actions will be undertaken. One of my officers shall compare the will in Lady Alagariel’s possession to the alleged forgery in Thetwick, for the sake of completeness. That is assuming it doesn’t disappear by the time we get there. That aside, even without the forgery, the evidence and testimony presented to me is more than sufficient. These decrees, except Abraham Toddson’s sentence, will be carried out by a party that will travel to Thetwick with all possible haster. It will be led by my grandson, Lord Caerel, who will be accompanied by Lady Alagariel, if she will consent to go. Abraham Toddson will be hanged in Duilhac tonight.”

Ala couldn’t help but feel a certain satisfaction. Coming here hadn’t been for nothing. The Duke continued his speech.

“Next we will deal with the plea for leniency in the case of Matt, formerly of the Duilhac Thieves. Step forward for questioning. Now is the time to come clean, Matt of Duilhac.”

“Yes, your grace,” he said meekly.

Matt had to relate countless crimes he had committed or participated in. At the same time, he had lots of details about the guild, people involved to a lesser or greater extent. He didn’t know who the guild master was, but he could indicate a number of trusted lieutenants. The Duke was obviously conflicted about how to deal with him. As he was about to get around to sentencing, Myrthe stepped forward.

“Your Grace, may I make a suggestion for sentencing?”

“Yes, I suppose so, Lady Myrthe.”

“While Matt’s crimes are many, he has not murdered anyone and abhors violence. He has also bettered his ways by coming forward and exposing his former associates. His knowledge and aptitude could continue to be valuable to your grace as a special addition to your Regiment. Perhaps he could be assigned a term of service, at the end of which his contribution could be evaluated. If he serves you well enough, he could be freed, and if not, he can still be held accountable for his crimes. I think Matt himself would relish the opportunity to redeem himself in such a manner.”

She had formulated it slightly more positively than Matt felt about it, Ala was sure, but it was pretty much the boy’s only chance. Ala had also been shocked at just how much stealing, racketeering and whatnot he had done. From his tale it was also clear that he had gone to great lengths to avoid violence, however. Considering his performance in the Tea House, Ala easily believed that he was no fighter.

“Matt of Duilhac, what say you?”

“Your Grace, it would be my great honour to serve you and Taladaria as best I could, for however long you require me too. I have many amends to make.”

“I am conflicted on this young Matt. It is the quality of those speaking on your behalf that stays my hand, in any other case it would be a trip to the gallows. As it is I sentence you to death…”

Ala’s heart sank… should she have let him escape? He shouldn’t be hanged, she was about to stand and say something, when the Duke continued speaking.

“I am, however, suspending your sentence. Do not blemish the honour of those that spoke on your behalf. Ten years service in the Guard, unpaid except for room, board and equipment. Reevaluation at that date. Report to the Captain at once. You will make every effort to root these thieves out of my city, understood?”

“Yes, at once, your grace. Thank you… thank you.”

Ala felt relieved. For a moment, she had really thought the Duke would have Matt executed immediately. She knew many had hanged for a lot less. As she relaxed she realised it was already an hour after noon. The Duke’s Court was adjourned, leaving the grumbling petitioners to try again on Third.

Matt was obviously relieved as they went outside. He stopped for a moment, his eyes focused a thousand yards away. He looked like he was surveying a new world. In a way he was, Ala thought.

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.

A Night in and Out of Gaol

After having mader their way back up to Peyrepertuse, she bid Gladiuth thanks and goodbye and went back into the depths of the dungeon. Myrthe was still watching over Matt, but it was obvious that she had set the matter straight as far as the dungeon keepers were concerned. They were treating Matt as a valuable asset, rather than the customary, brutal way prisoners were handled. The other prisoners were no longer present, Ala assumed they must have been moved to a different cell. Myrthe had made sure that the Guard Captain was already talking to Matt. It was a smart thing to do, because the wealth of information Matt had in his head was becoming clear to the man. It couldn’t hurt Matt’s chances if the Duke’s Guard wanted what he knew. Myrthe was sitting at the table where the gaolers usually took their meals, drinking watered ale with one of the guards, a middle aged man with a bit of a paunch who looked harried.

“Hey there.”

The guard fairly jumped up. “I apologise milady!”

Ala wondered how he could possibly reach such a conclusion about her heritage, still covered in dirt and grime as she was. It was as if someone had posted a sign on her forehead ever since she had found out herself.

“Relax, guardsman,” she said.

Ala sat down and Myrthe poured some of the watered ale into her cup and gave it to Ala.

“Sit down, for god’s sake,” Ala said to the guardsman, before turning to Myrthe. “Are you satisfied we can leave him here safely for the night?” Ala took a deep sip from the cup.

“Not completely. I think I convinced the Captain to make sure he has a guard tonight. That thief that got away has a lot of reasons to have him killed.”

“If they’re uncertain of his loyalty to the guild, which they will be since he turned on the man that escaped, the whole guild will feel the same way, I imagine. It’s a question of how far their reach is.”

It didn’t look like Myrthe was fully confident Matt would be safe. She had clearly fully taken the young man’s plight to heart after Guanshiyin had demonstrated her favour by healing him.

“It could well be they have agents within the castle walls. Shall we stay here then, just in case?”

Ala looked around the gaol, trying to gauge how she might defend it before she spoke, “it would make me feel better too, I think.”

This idea appeared to perk Myrthe up and relax her. “Shall we? Yes let’s! That idea is making me feel better already. This is Henry by the way.”

She gestured at the guard who had nervously sat down at the table again though he wasn’t really daring to move or speak.

“Hello Henry. I’m Alagariel. Would you please calm down?”

“Just think of the respect you’ll have when you tell them in the barracks that you spent the night drinking ale with two Ladies.”

Myrthe hadn’t helped with her comment. Henry had just bravely been trying to take a sip of his cup of watered ale. It now came out of his nose, which made him even more self-conscious.

“I don’t think that exactly helped to calm him down, Myr.”

The guard Captain came into the guard chamber then, having left his conversation with Matt. He was a man in his mid forties with a neat beard. He was also a knight. Poor Henry had to stand up again.

“Greetings, you must be Lady Alagariel, I’m Captain Jorwyn,” he bowed slightly to her. “Well Lady Myrthe, he’s certainly singing like he’s reformed. Never really known a man to change though, so I’m still suspicious.”

Myrthe replied, “I’m not sure it’s a change. I don’t think he was ever one of those guildsmen in his heart. Guanshiyin would never have saved him if his heart wasn’t true.”

“Well I hope you’re right,” the Captain said dismissively, “but, reformed or not, I too am concerned about the guild attempting to assassinate him down here. I’ve formed a detail of six trusted guardsmen to stand watch.”

“That is very kind of you. Ala and I have decided to stay here tonight too, just in case.”

“This is no place for Ladies…”

“We insist,” Ala said quietly.

It left absolutely no room for discussion. There was a moment of silence.

“Well, I can hardly deny it then, can I? We’ll clear out the next cell and organise some bedrolls and food. The door will stay open of course.”

“Thank you Captain.”

The Captain left them. Henry didn’t dare to sit down without orders apparently, so Myrthe asked him to sit down again. Shortly afterwards a platter of bread, butter, cheese and ham was brought by a servant as well as some more watered ale.

“So we spend a night in gaol.”

“Let’s hope it’s uneventful. So, where did you go today?”

“First, I practised with Gladiuth. Out in the yard.”

“Oh really? Just practised?” Myrthe raised an eyebrow.

“Your mind lives in the gutter. Yes, just practised… he’s interesting actually… just more as a swordsman than anything else. Something strange did happen though.”

“Like what?”

“A sort of trance. We apparently practised for hours. I can recall every second of it, yet it seemed like no time had passed at all. We were so engrossed, that we didn’t even notice that half the court came out to watch, including the Duke himself.”

“Sounds like a kind of sex to me. Bit kinky, with everyone watching…”

Poor Henry just didn’t know what to do with himself. Myrthe took pity on him.

“If our conversation is too unnerving why don’t you take the new decanter of ale and go sit in a cell or something, Henry?”

Henry fled, clutching the ale and his cup to him as he mumbled apologies.

“Where were we?”

“You said it sounded like sex to you. I have only a little experience of that, but I can imagine that if you were completely into someone it might be the same. This was with swords though. Live ones.”

“So a live sword was involved?”

Ala couldn’t help but smile and blush.

“You’re incorrigible, Myr!”

“Just having fun with you. So a sword-fighting trance, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that.”

“Gladiuth said he’d experienced it once before in Amahle. With an elven sword master. He called it a Battle-Dance.”

“That I’ve heard of. I’ve read stories about elven battle dancers. They’re said to be the most deadly blade wielders that ever lived. They turned the tide at the battle of Vani-something. I think my grandfather was killed there, in fact.”

“Vanidil, so the Duke said. Your grandfather was killed in battle? Really?”

“A fate that befalls a disproportionate number of nobles. But, to get back to things. You’ve been chatting with the Duke too? Can’t leave you alone for a minute. You didn’t kick the Duke in the nuts too or anything, did you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Well, that’s something, at least. So does this mean you’re a battle dancer now?

“Hardly. I have no idea how I got into that state, only a very slight idea of how to reproduce it even with Gladiuth. No idea how I would do it in a real fight. So, it’s like spotting a glimpse of light in the mist. That’s how it feels, a fleeting glimpse.”

“As usual you are full of surprises. Maybe you just need to want it.”

“I think it’s a little more involved than that. It’s something to study. I may figure it out, or maybe I will find an elf who can teach me more about it. Anyway, after that I went with Gladiuth to see his mother and aunt.”

“You’ve met his mother already, that’s quick going.”

“Stop it. He’s not unattractive, but I don’t think he’s for me.”

“Why not?”

“The idea of him dying centuries before me scares the hell out of me.”

“You don’t have to marry the man, Ala. You are allowed to have fun.”

Ala was silent for a moment.

“I’ll think about it. But anyway, actually speaking to other real live elves was useful and wonderful. Apparently the five elven realms are a bit of a mess at the moment, in the opinion of older elves anyway. The High Throne has been empty for five hundred years and Gladiuth’s family at least, wasn’t happy with the situation.”

“Really? Hmm… it’s never been explained to me that way. I suppose if something has been the same way for five hundred years, humans would see it as a more or less permanent situation. Interesting how points of view differ. What happened to the last High King again?”

“Reputedly slain by demons, opening the way for a demonic invasion of the world. Or something. That’s the popular story… among elves anyway.”

“Well, I haven’t seen that happening yet.”

“Yeah, well who knows what kind of timescales demons… or gods work in.”

“There is that. Are demonic invasions of the world a popular problem, with elves?”

“You’re ridiculing it. If you must know, you know who rid the world of demons the last time?”

“An elf, no doubt.”

“Of course. A Queen the humans call Alagariel.”

Myrthe smiled, “the faerytale. Of course. Well, I can only hope they’re wrong and we won’t be seeing any demons in the short run.”

“I suppose that would be best…”

There was a thunk from the cell where they were to sleep, which was strange. Henry was in there. Ala got up and walked over. Henry was lying on the floor, convulsing, having fallen off the bench where he had been sitting.

“Myrthe, there’s something very wrong.”

Myrthe got up and rushed over, checking Henry’s pulse.

“He’s dead.”

She smelt the cup he had been drinking from.

“It just smells like ale… maybe something. I’d say… maybe nightshade and perhaps some sort of accelerant? Enough to kill a horse. How the hell did they cover the taste of that?”

“Myr, Where in the hell are the guards the Captain was going to send?”

Ala ran back into the cell and grabbed Henry’s keys. She opened the cell door to Matt’s cell.

“Wake up sleepy head. Someone’s coming to kill you.”

“Huh what? Haven’t I done enough today?”

“Well, we’re going to have to do a little more otherwise it will be for nothing. Myrthe bring Henry’s club. Give Matt your riding sword, he’s probably more use with it than you are….”

“I… ehh… daggers… are more my thing…”

“Just take the sword Matt, I don’t have any daggers. You can have my knife, if you must.”

He glanced at the small knife at her belt and shook his head, “hah, I’ll go with the sword, that’s barely a weapon.”

“Right. Myr, Lock Matt’s cell, and let’s bring Henry’s body to the table, put his keys back on his belt.”

“What do you have in mind Ala?”

“We wait until they come, we’ll ambush whoever comes in the door, then we move. Put out some of the torches. Make it dark in here, but not darker than it would be if a gaoler was sleeping. They’ll be looking for three corpses. Matt, put on my cloak, lie down on the floor behind the table. Myrthe, you play dead too.”

They didn’t have to wait long. The outer door wasn’t locked and Ala saw the latch move a few minutes later. The door opened slowly inwards. The first thing she saw was a the tip of a crossbow stick out from the doorway. She was standing with her back to the wall, and her sword high, pointing upwards from her right shoulder. The first intruder crept in, keeping his crossbow shouldered, covering the table, he was wearing a hooded cloak. The crossbows complicated matters, especially since her shield had been left at the temple. The second man came in and began to turn his crossbow towards her. They were certainly well drilled. It decided the matter for her. She dropped her sword level and stuck it through the side of the man’s head at the temple as he was turning towards her. The sound of the blade entering through his skull made slight crunch and the man began to sag. The front man obviously detected something and whirled round. She judged that she wasn’t going to have her blade free of the first man’s head before he brought the crossbow to bear. She flared her flames as hard as she could. In an out of body kind of way she felt the room fill with searing light, a ball of white flame rapidly expanding outward from her. She frantically stopped doing it as she belatedly realised she might hurt Matt and Myrthe. Darkness returned but for some reason the light hadn’t blinded her. The crossbowman was not so lucky. He was weaving around like a drunk, his clothes burning, giving Ala more than enough time to step past him, in case there was a third assassin. Matt and Myrthe had now also started to move. They had had their heads down, so they shouldn’t have been too affected by Ala’s firework display.

Ala turned round. There was indeed a third man in the doorway. He was opening and closing his eyes obviously trying to get his vision back. Ala pushed the man who had been engulfed in her flames forward, towards his companion in the doorway. The man standing there just saw a vague blob coming towards him, and fired his crossbow at it, hitting the man in the chest somewhere. As he toppled over sideways, Ala rushed forward towards the third man. She hoped that was the last of them. She didn’t relish trying to deflect a crossbow bolt with her sword. The man in the doorway thought better of it, dropped his crossbow and started running down the hallway to Ala’s right. She rushed after him, drawing her knife with her left hand. She threw it after the man, but it just missed him and clanged onto the floor as he turned to his left. She decided not to pursue, reminding herself of Bernard’s lessons – the prize was keeping Matt alive, not catching the thieves. She quickly walked back to the gaol. Myrthe had lighted all the torches they had extinguished earlier. Both the crossbowmen were dead.

“Third one got away,” Ala said as she came in. They could hear sounds of armoured men running.

Matt looked at the two of them, the tension he was feeling was obvious. “Being a Guildsman is much safer than being a former Guildsman. People have tried to kill me twice today.”

“I’m not sure what time it is. If it’s just after midnight, then the first time was yesterday, just so you can whine about the right things,” said Myrthe, looking annoyed.

“Grab that crossbow, would you Myr, and use the table for cover. If that other table isn’t too charred, maybe you can do the same with that one, Matt. I assume the sound of running men I hear are guards, but we can’t be certain.”

It turned out the be the captain with four guardsmen. The Captain was flushed as he rushed in and stopped abruptly, looking surprised as he was facing the two crossbows. Ala was at her spot next to the door.

“Hello Captain. Nice to have you back.” said Ala.

“You’re all alive. Thank Belus! What happened?”

He was obviously looking at the blackened marks on the wall, floor and the charring on one of the corpses.

Myrthe answered, “not all of us. Henry is dead. The jug of watered ale that came with the bread was poisoned and the poor bastard drank first. Shortly after, we were attacked by three crossbowmen. One of them got away.”

“A servant raised the alarm when he found two guardsmen with their throats cut in a side passage. I came immediately. What happened to the floor?”

Ala shrugged. The captain eyed Matt, with a crossbow and a riding sword, but didn’t say anything. The guards the Captain had brought were the remaining four that had been scheduled to do guard shifts.

“With all due respect Captain. It appears to me that the Thieves’ Guild is well infiltrated throughout Duilhac and even here in Castle Peyrepertuse. Might I suggest we try a different approach for safety? Myrthe and I will stay with Matt, but not here. We won’t leave Peyrepertuse, but perhaps it’s best if we find a place to spend the night which we don’t advertise to the rest of the castle?”

The Captain clearly didn’t much like it, but seemed to realise he didn’t have much choice as the security of his gaol had just been proven to be less than perfect.

“I would like to send at least one guard with you. I will need to go and tell the Duke what is going on in his Castle.”

“Alright. One guard. I pick, uhm… him.”

Ala randomly pointed out one of the four men with her sword.

“Rufus, stay with them, guard them with your life.”

“Yes Captain.”

They left the Captain and his guards. Matt had salvaged some equipment from the two dead would-be assassins. He knew exactly where they kept the tools he was looking for. He swiftly stored the lock picks and a few other items the purpose of which wasn’t clear to Ala. Taking a roundabout route around the castle grounds and trying to make sure no one was following them, they sat down in one of the arches on the inside of the outer wall on the side of the castle that was facing away from the city. It was a quiet part of the castle at any time, especially in the middle of the night. Only a lookout occasionally made his round along the battlements above. Ala took some time observing the area around them, but there was no sign that anyone had seen where they went and she could see no one at all moving around. She looked at her companions. Matt was still psyched from the night’s exertions. Perhaps it was simply that he would have to explain himself at the Duke’s court within a few hours? It would be enough to make Ala very nervous too. Matt fidgeted nervously, glancing about every few seconds.

Myrthe was chatting softly with Rufus. Ala decided she would lie down and meditate. Thankfully, there were no further incidents before dawn came. Precisely when dawn came was difficult to judge as the bulk of the castle blocked their view of the rising sun. The Duke’s court was scheduled to begin just after breakfast. Ala had been awake for hours and had been watching the denizens of the castle began their daily rituals. She’d managed to rest relatively well despite the discomfort of doing so while wearing her mail. The others hadn’t managed a lot of sleep. When Ala judged it time, she had Rufus lead them to the kitchens. Their arrival caused a bit of a flutter among the serving staff, as they made their way through, getting in the way of the morning rush.

“I don’t care who you are, milady, you have no business stomping through my kitchen!”

A large round woman wearing a well used leather apron over a simple brown kirtle blocked their advance. She had red cheeks and brown hair under a cap and her expression brooked no discussion. Ala decided she must be rather brave, or maybe the woman just defended the kitchen with her life, no matter how well armed or noble an intruder might be.

“I’m sorry, mistress, but strange as it may seem, we are on the Duke’s business. I need to be able to select some fare for my companions and myself without interference.”

The round woman showed no sign of caving to Ala’s wishes. A boy, a paige of some sort came up behind her and whispered into the woman’s ear. Her eyes went wide.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I don’t like people messing around my kitchen. Please tell me what you need.”

Ala moved closer to the woman so that people around couldn’t overhear.

“Cook, I assume you are the cook?”

The woman nodded.

“Last night, the thieves’ guild managed to infiltrate the castle.”

The revelation clearly didn’t surprise the cook. In a whisper she said, “they can get everywhere, milady, like rats.”

“Well this time they managed to poison a guard by mixing nightshade into the man’s ale. I just need to be able to select some foods for us that no one could have known beforehand would be consumed by us.”

The round woman had keen eyes, she nodded, clearly understanding why at once.

“Alright, I understand milady. Take what you need.”

Ala picked various foods for them, more or less at random, to make sure no one could bring them anything poisoned. Ala thanked the cook and apologised again for disrupting everything, who pointed out an area where they could sit and eat. They sat down in a corner of the kitchen and ate quietly. Ala was still making certain to keep careful tabs on their surroundings, but thankfully no one leapt down from the rafters to try and kill Matt.

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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.

Introduction to Elvenkind

They came to the alchemist’s quarter and Gladiuth led her to the Ye Olde Shoppe. It was quite a large building, built from rough grey stone. The shop was on the ground floor, which was slightly raised, with three steps leading up to a large double front door. The door was jammed open with a lump of unidentifiable cast iron. Inside was a second door with multicoloured stained glass. Little bells rung when Gladiuth opened the inner door. Gladiuth swept in and Ala followed, feeling self-conscious in her dirty garb. There was a long counter, behind which lots of shelves filled with thousands of little bottles and containers. It smelt, just a little, of herbs and exotic things. A large black bear was lying on the counter looking at them lazily, putting its head at Ala’s eye height, which was startling. It was a far cry from what she had expected to see.

Gladiuth was unfazed and spoke as if to a shop attendant.

“Hullo Georgina. Are they in?”

Ala looked round, there was no one else in sight. He must be addressing the bear, Ala realised, as she double checked that there really was no one else there.

“Uhm, I take it the bear is a pet?”

“Don’t call her that, she doesn’t like it. She prefers ‘friend’.”

“Sorry, Georgina,” Ala mumbled. It seemed prudent.

The bear sort of groaned. It sounded like mild exasperation to Ala. The bear rolled on its back, almost falling off the counter, and put a paw in the air.

“Upstairs huh? Thanks.”

Ala was rapidly getting the impression she had missed a lot, growing up in Thetwick. Gladiuth led them through a door in the back of the shop. Ala brushed the door frame as she followed, because she was still staring at the bear, which had already gone back to sleep judging by its breathing. The door led to a hallway with wide stairs going up.

“Mother, I have someone here I’d like you to meet,” called Gladiuth.

“Hello child. Why can’t you just call me Yesme, like normal elven children would?”

The voice came from upstairs.

“Sorry mother. Perhaps I’m not a normal elven child?”

A beautiful woman with fine features and earthy skin, brown, slightly curly hair and piercing green eyes appeared at the top of the stairs. Her hair was arranged in a long braid, clearly showing pointed ears. She was wearing a practical, though stylish dark green dress with a sort of leather doublet in a lighter, beige colour over it that accentuated her shape. If she was human you’d think she was in her late twenties, if that. They came up to the landing.

“Don’t I know it. So, you are Alagariel,” she stated.

She came forward, clasped Ala’s hands and kissed her cheek. Yesme looked her over slowly.

“Welcome to my home. Gladiuth has told me a little about you. Do you speak elven?”

Yesme looked at the grime and dust marks that covered Ala’s tabard before she could answer.

“What has he been doing with you? Rolling around in the practice yard with swords no doubt?”

Ala spotted a different sort of appraisal going on behind Yesme’s eyes too. Like she was wondering whether the rolling around might not have been with swords.

Ala quickly replied, in elven, hoping her accent wasn’t too awful, “yes madam. I’m sorry.”

Yesme smiled, also continuing in elven.

“Don’t be. I’m used to it. Come in to the sitting room and sit down. Gladiuth will organise us some refreshments. Maybe you can convince Talathiel to join us too, Glad?”

Ala was ushered into a large cosy room, with overstuffed chairs and many shelves with books and more vials and containers. It had a certain elegance to it too. It wasn’t quite cluttered, though it was getting there. It exuded warmth and comfort. There were piles of books and interesting objects all over. Ala liked it there a lot.

“So I understand I’m the first elf you’ve ever talked to?”

“Yes madam, that’s true. At least, I was very young when I was taken in by humans. It just seemed like I should, seek out… I have… so many questions.”

“Well, for starters, please address me as Yesme. I’ll explain what I can, though I’m not the best example of elven kind, nor the most knowledgeable. I’m one of the few elves who actually grew up completely in human cities, though I’ve moved around a bit in the last three and half centuries.”

“Is that unusual?”

“For a full elf, yes. As you must have experienced the ageing discrepancy can be a strain on relationships with humans. I feel that too, obviously, but I don’t really know any better.”

Ala nodded, “it’s not nice, losing people all the time.”

“No. It isn’t. I suppose in my case there have always been at least a few elves around too, which perhaps alleviates things a little. I imagine you must have lacked that?”

“No other elves… or even half-elves for most of my life. I long thought I was a half elf and it seems no one in Thetwick was well enough travelled to tell me any different.”

“You thought you were a half-elf? That’s a new one. How did that come about?”

“The Westmarch isn’t the most open minded of communities. When I arrived I think I was somewhere between four and six decades old. My adoptive mother reasoned that the people of the town would feel less threatened by someone who was at least half human.”

“That isn’t an unreasonable thought. But she didn’t even tell you?”

“To be honest, I think it was all a misunderstanding. It simply never occurred to anyone that it was possible that I didn’t know I was an elf.”

Yesme smiled again, “what a way to go through a century. That must have been confusing, eventually.”

“Perhaps a little. I did meet an actual half elf, but to be honest for a long time I thought it the difference in our rate of ageing was probably because our parents were obviously of different subspecies. She didn’t know her elven father either, so she knew as little as I did.”

“Well, I can certainly imagine you must have many questions. My older sister has lived among elves mostly, it’s why I asked Gladiuth to see if she’ll come down. She’s a little stormy. Water elf, you know. They can be like that. You, are in fact the first fire elf I’ve ever met.”

“Truly? Are fire elves that rare?”

“I was born some time after the land of Fire fell. I’m told a great many died around that time. Talathiel does have some experience with your kind. But she’s all but certain there are other surviving fire elves, somewhere if that’s some consolation.”

“It’s certainly… heartening.”

“Tala’s substantially older than I am. It may be a while till she makes her appearance, please, ask me what you will, I’ll try and answer as best I can.”

“Thank you. I suppose my biggest question is quite predictable. I have no idea who my parents were, or if they’re alive. Is there some way to find out about the lineages of the fire elves? Is there some way of finding out if there might have been a missing child around two centuries ago?”

“I’ll have to admit, that is puzzling to me. Elves don’t have many children, so what children are born are all the more precious. Fire Elves were always the least numerous, even before the fall of Fire, so if anything they are the most careful with their offspring. After what happened in Fire, your sort of elves has become so scarce that you may be the first of your kind to visit Iurrak in centuries. I think there’s many humans who doubt fire elves ever existed.”

“I think most of them have forgotten about it, to be honest.”

“Short memories, humans. Now, if there was anyone alive who knew of your existence, or had heard about the survival of an elven child in the Westmarch, well, I would have expected someone… several someones in fact, to come looking. It’s quite mysterious, actually.”

Yesme looked pensive, frowning, like she was thinking about how that was possible.

“I don’t know. The whole town thought I was a half-elf. Unless the elves check every mention of a half-elf, I don’t suppose they would have had a reason to come looking in Thetwick. I don’t think anyone ever came to check on Alissa’s parentage either. I don’t know if her father even knew that her mother became pregnant.”

“It’s as reasonable an explanation as any. Half-elves are certainly more of a grey area, which is sad all on its own.”

“Not really part of any one people. Still though, thinking I was a half-elf it certainly made me think at least a part of me belonged among humans. Now I suppose I still feel that way. But… is there a book perhaps, a history of the fire-elves which I could look over? Maybe some sort of work that describes lineages, like heralds do for nobles?”

“There are such works of course, particularly concerning Fire Elves I would imagine. Not that I have anything like that here. You will probably have to visit Amahle, in the Kingdom of Water. Metal would probably be even better, but its awfully far away.”

“My friend mentioned Amahle. I think I’d like to visit it, when the whole business with the inheritance is settled.”

“Humans don’t have much of an insight into elven history, as you may have noticed. Our culture is somewhat homogeneous to them. Monolithic even. Our timescales certainly don’t help. To them we seem rather unchanging. Understandable I suppose, when the last things that elves consider important happened during one’s grandfather’s grandfathers days it makes sense for humans to consider such events ancient and often irrelevant history. An example is the calendars. Has anyone ever explained the difference?”

“Elves have a different calendar?”

“No. In fact the human calendar is the elven calendar. The only difference is how we use it. To the humans, the year is 994. To us, well, its 19994.”

“Elves add nineteen thousand years? That’s what the ’19th millennium’ at the bottom of official parchments is all about?”

Yesme nodded.

“I’ve been brought up to say the humans ignore it. The exciting thing of course is what happens when the millennium rolls around? But I digress. Oh one thing that may be of interest, considering your name. Do you know what happened in year zero?”

“Wait a moment… is that… then… the first year of the reign of ancient Alagariel? Truly?”

“Yes. That’s right. My but you’re quick. All the more interesting with a Fire Elf named Alagariel sitting in my drawing room. Anyway, books. While I don’t own any works that specifically concern fire elves, I do have some more general titles, if you’d like to read them.”

“I would like that,” mumbled Ala, still distracted by the revelation about the calendar.

“Now, I will explain what I can, a short primer at least. The five kinds of elves always lived in a kind of symbiosis, an alliance that we called the Five Nations, up until recently. Recently in elven terms being half a millennium.”

“I think only elves could call that recent.”

“You see what I mean about the human perspective? To a human, the situation as it is seems normal, it has been that way for perhaps fifteen of their generations. To us, it’s a recent change, something that my parents were a part of. Something that my sister was alive for. Now, come, let’s sit.”

Ala sat in one of the big seats, upholstered in red leather with lots of stuffing. She sank down into it, it was very comfortable. She loved this place. Yesme continued her story.

“Only now do we really see groups of wood elves living mostly without other kinds mixed in, and the same goes for the other elven kinds. There has been a slow tendency for the sub species gravitate towards one another. As I understand it, the fire elves were traditionally the leaders of the elves, by virtue of their nature.”

“Their nature? What do you mean.”

“Brightness. Warmth. Light. Like fire, mesmerising in times, you know… when you look a flame, you can be captured by it, only watching it dance as time disappears. The warmth of the hearth that the community gathers around. While at the same time, the danger that is inherent in fire too. The potential to run wild and destroy. That’s what Fire Elves are like.”

Ala couldn’t imagine that described her. The intensity with which Yesme said it however made it clear that she was convinced that it was true.

“But… that’s…. we’re not really like that, I’m not like that. It’s just an idea isn’t it?”

“Oh my. So young… so… have you seen yourself? Human society has a massive shortage of mirrors of any quality, I know… but… well, until this afternoon I might have thought it just an idea too. Since you walked in however, I now fully understand. I… had not expected the effect to be so… profound.”

It was true. Ala had never really seen herself well. There were some very poor mirrors in Thetwick and she’d seen her own warped reflection in water many times of course.

“We didn’t really have many decent mirrors in Thetwick.”

“Come here then, I have one.”

Yesme led her through the hall to what was clearly her bed chamber. It was the same sort of style as the sitting room with a large four poster bed that was piled high with pillows and quilts. In the corner stood a full length mirror. Ala couldn’t imagine what it might be worth. Yesme gestured for her to look.

She wasn’t really surprised by what she saw, after all she knew what she looked like. She thought about the way Yesme had described Fire Elves. She just saw herself, in more detail than ever. Yet… there was something she couldn’t place. Was that something all those things Yesme had described?

“You see?”

“I don’t know? I’m just me. Well, I’ve never had such a good look at me, I think. I’m not sure I completely get it.”

Yesme smiled. “I should have known. There is another thing they say about Fire and Fire Elves. Fire is not self-aware, it just is and does, moving with inevitability and complete confidence. I’m not sure if that’s completely true, but your reaction made me think of it. Come along now, let’s get back to the sitting room. Perhaps, Tala will have finally deigned to come down.”

When they were both seated there again, Yesme continued her explanation.

“Now, where were we? Oh yes, Fire Elves’ role in elven society. I learned they always made a conscious effort to keep the elves mingling, to keep things…. changing. Until the last elven high king, Anfos, was driven out by demons or some other unnameables around a five hundred years ago.”

“Demons?”

“A catch all term for… powerful supernatural entities that… well, I suppose one could say, have different priorities than is customary from… what we consider normal.”

“What would normal be?”

“Life, love, the pursuit of happiness? I don’t really know exactly, but whatever a demon is, if they even really exist, their goals diverge significantly from what the Vatan’s sentient species would term as important.”

“You don’t think thy exist?”

“No I think they probably do. Whether they are really involved in what happened with Fire? I don’t know. I’m not clear on the details and it was quite a time before I was born. No one seems to be clear on the details in fact, like its some big secret.”

“A secret? Why is that?”

“I’m afraid the vagaries of elven politics are probably almost as opaque to me as they are to you. The High King of the Elves had an important role in elven society, mythical even.”

“The Fire Elves are somehow connected to this myth?”

“The elven myth is that we are the protectors of the world, courtesy of a Queen the humans call Alagariel in their faerytales. It goes on to state that while there is a High King or Queen, the world is safe from invasion by demons or the great darkness or whatever it is that no one seems to be able to clearly define. Whatever bad things might happen without a High King or Queen, it clearly hasn’t happened during the last five centuries, so I suppose we have to wonder whether it was ever true – unless such disasters play out on an elven timescale rather than a human one of course.”

“So there hasn’t been a Fire Elven High King or Queen of five hundred years?”

“That’s right. Thing is, in elven terms I’m not exactly old and well, having spent so much time among humans, I’m not especially up to date on the way the whole Five Nations thing is meant to function when it’s working properly. So I wish my sister would make an appearance.”

“You’ve already been able to tell me so many things I had absolutely no idea of,” said Ala.

Yesme glanced at the door again, “Talathiel must be having one of her days. Gladiuth is obviously having trouble convincing her to come down, or they would have been here by now. Or perhaps they’re just having one of their customary disagreements. You may have to make do with me. I would have expected her to be curious about you. So, what do you want to know first?”

“There are so many things… I suppose history is as good a place to start as any. Everything you’ve just described, what does that do for today’s elves? How do they live?”

Ala was fascinated by the story and really wanted the she-elf to continue.

“Fragmented, is probably the best one-word description. Historically, there were five elven realms. Predictably there was Fire, Wood, Water, Earth and Metal. Each is a Kingdom. The first among equals was always Fire and traditionally, the High King or Queen has always been the King or Queen of Fire. Fire elves were thus always the elven high monarchs. The elven realms were ruled by noble families of each elven kind, but it doesn’t mean that their nation was populated predominantly by elves of that type. Even the royal families contain a mix of elves from different sub species, but the peers of the four realms other than fire are always of the elven kind sub race corresponding to their nation. There are even elven princes, dukes and whatnot other than the rulers of each elven land, but as in Iurrak and Selinus, whose systems were modelled on the elven one, they are not peers of the elven monarchy. Are you following?”

Ala nodded, she was fascinated by all this history of the people she had never known. Yesme continued her explanation.

“Each elven land has always contained a mix of all the elven sub species. That said, as I understand it, the fire elves were always the least numerous elven kind, so they were a minority even in the land of Fire. To preserve unity, there was much travel between the realms. Peers would visit each other’s realms for years at a time. That has decreased dramatically since the death of the High King. Fire has formally been ruled in name by a steward, who is in fact a Metal Elf, some Count or something I think it was. He has his residence in the Kingdom of Metal. I think the stewardship exists only in the form of a hereditary title to be honest. In this manner, the fragmentation continues to increase. I think no one has heard anything about Fire from the official steward in centuries. It’s more of ceremonial thing now I imagine. Perhaps it’s a fashionable thing at the King of Metal’s court. Metal elves have a bit of a thing for fashion. That’s speculation though. There’s nothing for him to do anyway as he can’t actually enter Fire. There is no ambassador from Fire to the King of Iurrak at Erythrae either at the moment, though I believe the other elven realms do maintain relations.”

“So, are there no fire elves in any of the other elven realms any more? Where did they all go?”

“Again, understand that they were always the least numerous by far. If there are any outside the Land of Fire, they are living secluded lives though they probably are in the other elven realms. I know many disappeared trying to defend or reclaim Fire five centuries ago. I have heard of people meeting fire elves in the remaining realms. To be honest though, I can’t imagine that there’s more than a handful left and they are clearly avoiding mainstream society. Even mainstream elven society. I should mention that that’s not entirely out of character for elves in general. The older they are, the more they like to be left to their own devices, my dear sister upstairs being a case in point. At least that’s always how it seems to me. You almost never just run into an eight or nine hundred year old elf, but they really are about. They just keep to themselves.”

“They sort of retire from the world?”

Yesme nodded and looked sad at the way Ala described it, her eyes a little red after her last words. She quickly continued, “you know, it makes me sad. Even to me with my life among humankind, Fire Elves were something just a little larger than life… having met you I see why elves feel that way and that sensation has only been reinforced. Just looking at you fills me with a kind of warmth, like… like a new dawn. Earth elves are supposed to be all sober and down to earth… but just listen to me babbling. I’m actually a little taken aback by the effect you’re having on me.”

Ala blushed a little but couldn’t help smiling. “I suppose there are worse effects to have on people…”

Yesme smiled at that and looked up as stumbling could be heard from above.

“Finally,” she said.

Gladiuth returned, with a tray of drinks in tall containers that were made of very thin crystal, another incredible luxury. He was followed by an elven woman with strikingly exotic features. She was as beautiful as her sister, as seemed to be the norm among elves. Somehow you could sense that she was older, perhaps by some minuscule marks and ever so slight lines in her face, except there weren’t any. An incredibly well preserved fifty or sixty human years would be the most anyone would dare ascribe to her, insofar as you could make such judgements of anyone with such dramatic features. Her skin was pale, like the froth on the seas, her eyes were sea green, and her hair was turquoise blue. It was almost eerie. Ala rose as she entered. The water elf came to her, clasped her hands and kissed her cheek. She lingered with her hands over Ala’s for what seemed like a long time. Her voice somehow made Ala think of crashing waves.

“An honour, Lady Alagariel. I am Talathiel Bahar. I trust my Yesme is being a gracious host?”

“Very much so, thank you.”

Gladiuth handed her a drink first, then Talathiel, his mother and then took one himself before falling into a couch.

“So it’s true. I checked with aunt Talathiel too.”

“What is, Gladiuth?” Yesme asked.

“Alagariel is a noble. She didn’t really know if she was or not.”

“You should really know such things, Gladiuth,” scolded Talathiel.

“Well please forgive me for not remembering the customary peerage of an elven sub species no one has encountered in more than five centuries, auntie?”

Talathiel spoke, “You’re such an impertinent child. Must be the human in you. Anyway, in the customs of our people, all fire elves are nobles. At least, I’ve never heard of Fire elven line that wasn’t and they were never numerous. They are the leaders, giving direction, that is the tradition. The current mess being a case in point, I suppose. Is nobility important to you, Lady Alagariel?”

Talathiel was direct it seemed. She had said the last bit with a note of disapproval. Ala was concerned what the she-elf might think of her. It was the first time in a while that she had cared what anyone thought of her.

“Well, I don’t have to worry about bearing arms any more then. That’s certainly of practical use where I grew up… and when travelling in Taladaria. I’m not sure I understand the rest of the underlying thinking in the concept of nobility… I suppose I can understand someone’s actions being deserving of distinction, but being born to it seems an odd concept.”

Talathiel smiled. She seemed satisfied with Ala’s answer… Ala pressed on, feeling she had voiced her opinion on the matter well enough.

“May I inquire, what did you mean when you described the current situation as a mess, Mistress Talathiel?”

“I mean that the elves are leaderless, without direction, and have been for five centuries. To my great chagrin, it seems we are in need of some noble Fire Elves to show us direction. Ironic, isn’t it? I don’t even really approve of the concept of monarchy, yet I find myself wishing for Fire Elven leadership. It’s paradoxical.”

Talathiel paused for a moment, as if it were an admission she was loathe to make, before continuing.

“How can we help you, Lady Alagariel? Gladiuth told me that you were wholly raised among humans. You must have missed out on an unimaginable amount of elven history, culture and of course lore. I don’t think we can catch up in one quiet Seventh afternoon, but perhaps we can make a start.”

“That would be very kind of all of you.”

Yesme spoke again, “perhaps it would be helpful if you tell us a little about yourself, to start with?”

“Very well. I have vague memories. I was raised by elves for perhaps my first forty to sixty years, I think. I have no idea exactly how long. I speak elven, somehow. I can read it too. I shudder at how much of a human accent I must have.”

“You don’t actually. Surprisingly. It is an accent I’m not familiar with though,” Gladiuth said.

Talathiel spoke, clearly piqued that he didn’t recognise it.

“It’s a Fire accent, Gladiuth. You’re such a boor. Quite an… archaic and proper one. The King’s elven is how I’ve heard that accent referred to. Actually, Alagariel is the one without the accent. It’s the rest of us here who speak like peasants. That’s what elven originally sounded like. I’ve met a very old Fire Elven priestess who spoke just the same way. Jerynne Feux is her name, Lady of… Greaneglowe I think… which was inside the Kingdom of Fire. She was an impressive creature. Spends her time in Metal, I think.”

Ala was pleased that her accent was tolerable though she was a little perplexed by Talathiel analysis. She would have been mortified to not be able to speak her own tongue properly in front of these majestic people. She was unreasonably happy she didn’t have to worry about that. Having a first hand account of another fire elf besides herself was the icing on top.

“I suppose what I could really use is some advice. I have a matter to take care of in Thetwick, perhaps Gladiuth mentioned it. My adoptive uncle left me his belongings and the will was contested by the Constable. The man is corrupt. I’m not terribly bothered about the wealth but Bernard left me his ancestral home and I would be tarnishing his memory if I didn’t handle this matter properly, according to his wishes. It’s why I came, to take the matter to the Duke’s Court tomorrow. If things go as planned, the Constable will be exposed and the Duke will probably have to take some action. If the ruling is in my favour in any way, I suppose I will have to go back to Thetwick to place Bernard’s estate in someone’s care. After that, I suppose I can do what I want. I was thinking of trying to find out what happened to my parents. It’s more than a century ago. Unless there were any nonhuman guardsmen in the patrol that brought me to Thetwick, I doubt there’s anyone left to talk to.”

“The Duke keeps the records of his ancestors. A patrol should be a matter of the military record. It’s possible there’s something in the Duke’s library. It’s worth checking,” said Gladiuth.

“That’s a fine idea. I will ask the Duke for permission. After that, I would assume such a search would lead me to visit an elven realm, whether I find anything or not. There’s more chance there might be an elf who remembers something than a human.”

“You should show them your sword.”

“Neither of us are fascinated by blades like you are, Glad,” interjected Yesme.

“Show them,” he repeated.

She drew the blade, holding it the way she had for Gladiuth to look at. Both the elven woman stared at it for a moment before Talathiel spoke.

“Well. That speaks for itself. I’ve never seen one that complex. Where did you get it?”

Ala explained all she knew about it.

“You can wield it comfortably? It protects you and may even kill those who attempt to disarm you?”

“Yes, that seems right.”

“I’d say it almost impossible that the previous owner of that blade was not a family member of yours, probably a close relative. I understand that that doesn’t spell much good for the chances of your parents both being alive but I feel its still important for you to understand that that sword must have belonged to a close family member. I don’t know much about swords, but I do know a thing or two about magic and that is how these things work – the blade will be strongest for those in the direct line, assuming they are true of course. This one is violently powerful even now, despite what it has been through. I can sense its power.”

The news made Ala sad of course. She’d always had a hope that one or both of her parents still lived, but that now seemed less likely.

“It’s a clue. It does make me apprehensive about where the search will lead me.”

“That is understandable. That blade was not relinquished by its last rightful owner willingly, I’m afraid,” said Talathiel, shaking her head.

They talked for a while longer, Ala picking up a great deal of knowledge about her people. A lot of things she hadn’t understood about elven kind were in their place when it was time to leave. She was fairly skipping again by the time they she had said her goodbyes headed back up to the Castle. Talathiel and Yesme asked her to come by again soon.

“Thank you for taking me to meet your family Gladiuth. It was wonderful.” She said as they walked back up the hill.

“It really is my pleasure. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Talathiel so animated. They were quite excited to meet you too. My mother said that Fire elves create a sense of anticipation. I’m beginning to see that, though I don’t really understand why or how. Things happen around you. Perhaps that’s what Myrthe sees too.”

In her joy, she had even forgotten to raise her hood. It was only at the castle gate the reason for all the staring dawned on her.

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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.

Revanche

Matt was thrown in the dungeon together with the remaining hired man, a still unconscious Abe, and the moustached thief. Myrthe made sure he was in the least uncomfortable cell and that he wasn’t with the other prisoners. She decided to stay with him to make sure things didn’t go wrong. Ala was left to her own devices. She found Gladiuth in the practice yard, doing his own exercises with a few advanced students.

“May I join you, Master Gladiuth?”

“Of course Lady Alagariel.”

He too addressed her as a noblewoman, she realised. She was armed of course, but not with one of the tiny daggers noblewomen used to communicate rank. She was going to have to ask about it, she decided. She felt so out of her depth in so many matters. At least she could drown in the moment that sword practice offered for in a few moments. She pulled off her cloak and bag, and laid down her scabbard and belt on top of it. A student offered her a practice blade.

“You address me as if I were of noble blood. I don’t know if that’s correct. I have very little idea who I am descended from. I’ve never had reason to assume I was descended from nobility.”

She stepped into the ring.

“Well, even if it isn’t, some of us are ennobled by our actions. I asked my mother though, apparently elves do regard all fire elves as noble, embodying the spirit of the elves or something. That’s what she says anyway. Also, I cannot imagine that whoever wielded that sword was not only a noble among the elves, but a very powerful one.”

“I don’t know that whoever that was was related to me.”

“The blade appears to accept you, Lady Alagariel, and you are a Fire Elf. It seems exceedingly unlikely to me that you are not of an elven noble line, even if there were such a thing as a fire elven commoner.”

She banished the conversation from her mind, slipping into the moment as they started circling one another. She ran the things Gladiuth had said about her technique last time through her mind once more, quickly remembering the movements that went with them before she banished the thoughts from her consciousness, trusting that her subconscious had taken note.

“I still mean to visit your mother, if that’s alright.”

“More than alright. She is keen to meet you. I visited her yesterday, but I will accompany you later today, if you have the time.”

Then he lunged, with no warning whatsoever. They practised for half an hour, basking in each others skill. It went well, so they switched to live weapons. Her blade seemed to understand it was practice, it was almost like it was less sharp than it was normally. The pace increased and increased and a crowd gathered to watch them again. Basking in the interminable moment that was swordplay, she moved each position flowing logically from the previous one. She went into a kind of trance. Time passed without them knowing it, the spar continuing, on and on.

Eventually, their blades rang together in a ringing blow, a perfect symmetry, neither one of them having any advantage over the other. In that perfect balance, they realised they had finished their practise. There was nothing to be gained by continuing. They both backed away and traditionally saluted one another. She discovered she was soaked in sweat, and the sun had moved quite a ways through the sky. The crowd she had noticed gathering was still there and had grown larger still. People had made themselves comfortable, making her wonder just how long the practice had gone on. She spotted an old, impressive looking man seated in a high backed chair that had clearly been brought out for him to observe their sparring. Ala suddenly knew that this was the Duke himself. A table with beverages and fruits had been placed next to him. Ala turned away from the Duke and looked around and at Gladiuth.

“Have you ever practised like that before? I never have.”

“Once. In Amahle. With an elven sword master.”

Ala looked around again, glancing at the sun, attempting to judge how much time had passed.

“How long were we busy?”

“I’m not sure,” he too looked at the sun’s position, “several hours, it seems.”

Ala glanced back at the crowd, breathing in deeply before she said anything else.

“It was… an incredible experience, Master Gladiuth.”

“As it was for me. Thank you.”

“And you. What was it though? It was… like a trance.”

“The elves call it the Battle Dance. Are you honestly telling me you’ve never experienced it before?”

“This was the first time. Though perhaps I understand, a little, how elves have fought off all those hordes of orcks in the stories of old. But to answer your question – I’ve never practised like that before.”

“Yes. It is… special. I didn’t think I’d ever experience it again, truthfully, after Amahle. Thank you.”

“No thank you. I’ve never experienced its like. It was wonderful.”

“You drew me in to it, not I you, milady.”

“What? No. You’ve done it before!”

“Never on my own. This was you, I’m certain. So again, my thanks.” she could see he was emotional.

He collected himself, pulling himself out of his reflective mood before he spoke again.

“The Duke himself came out to watch, we must go and introduce you, it would be impolite not too.”

“Like this?”

She was dripping with sweat, and covered in grime, because she had rolled through the dust countless times. Gladiuth smiled at her.

“Relax. He’s an old soldier. He knows this isn’t a ball.”

The Duke rose as they walked over to him. He was in his seventies, but still straight backed and powerful looking with a full but neatly trimmed grey beard. Gladiuth spoke.

“Your Grace, may I present the Lady Alagariel?”

“A pleasure indeed, Lady Alagariel,” said the Duke, inclining his head before he continued.

“This unannounced display of martial prowess was most pleasing to observe. The fire was a little disconcerting, but my Court Wizard says it has something to do with your heritage. But then he’s a bit of an idiot. Next time, I would like to know beforehand so as not to miss any of it.”

Fire? Had she been using her ‘little trick’? She didn’t recall it. Gladiuth looked a tiny bit puzzled too.

“I am sorry, Your Grace. For the fire and practising unannounced, neither was planned, I assure you.”

The Duke smiled at her.

“I was only joking, Lady Alagariel. Master Gladiuth, swordsmanship such as that is the stuff of legend. I have never seen anything like it, except once maybe at the Battle of Vanidil. There were some elves there, who moved like that. But then, you would know, you were there too. Cut a swathe over the battlefield, didn’t they? We were engaged in our own fights at the time so there was little opportunity to watch. I was a little too busy. The piles of orckish and goblin corpses left in their wake told of their contribution afterwards though. I do not think we would have prevailed without them that day. Is this an elven discipline? I didn’t realise you commanded it, Gladiuth.”

The battle of Vanidil was the one she had missed because Bernard had needed her in the Westmarch, she realised. Gladiuth responded, pulling her attention back to the conversation.

“I’m not sure I do your grace. Like this, in practice, it requires highly advanced students of the blade to do. I’ve only experienced it once myself, when I was at Amahle. Lady Alagariel tells me this was her first such experience too. I’m not sure I could reproduce it, even with Alagariel, let alone on a battlefield. To me, it feels more like a condition that occurs than a skill. The elves call it the Battle Dance and I’m certain it’s Lady Alagariel who drew me into it.”

“Well, it has been a most welcome distraction. It is a pleasure to see artists at work. Lady Alagariel, I understand you will make an appearance at my court tomorrow? Gladiuth has told me more or less what to expect. I will see you there. Till next, Master Gladiuth.”

“Your Grace.”

With that the Duke turned and strode off. Alagariel and Gladiuth inclined their heads as he passed.

“Well, I think we have deserved some refreshment, don’t you? Let’s go and see my mother.”

“Like this?”

“Oh get over it. She’s used to me coming in off the practice field.”

They left the castle, walking down to Duilhac. She had managed to remove most of the dust from the tabard she wore over her mail and was thankfully mostly dried up by the time they reached the town. On the way down they talked.

“What did the Duke mean by the fire?”

“Well, I saw it too actually, now that I’ve thought about it. Though I thought it would be something that only exists to the participants in the battle dance. The world of the battle dance feels… a little like another place to me. I thought the fire was something that belonged in that other place and that it was there because you are a fire elf. Apparently it isn’t confined to the participants of the battle dance.”

“I didn’t even realise I was doing it. What did it look like?”

“You leave a trail of flame behind all your movements, like a torch in the wind. That’s the best description. Sword too. It didn’t burn me though. I’m willing to bet it burns orcks and the like when you want it to though.”

“So much for that little secret then,” she mumbled.

“Oh, so you’re not completely surprised?”

“No… Well. I didn’t know I was doing it while we were training. I know I can call the fire, and manipulate it to some extent. I assumed it was something all fire elves can do.”

“Hmm. Something to ask my mother. I’m pretty sure she can’t do the same with earth though.”

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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.

Law and Order

Alagariel and Myrthe left early for the tea house meaning to be there hours ahead of time. Ala had helped Myrthe with the mail and made certain she was wearing it in the manner that was most likely to protect her from blows, but under her habit where it was mostly invisible. She looked very uncomfortable wearing the hauberk. Fully equipped they quietly walked to the Royal Square in the pre-dawn light.

The layout of the Royal Square was open and it was deserted at that early an hour. It would be quite obvious to any casual onlooker if one wasn’t actually crossing it with a destination in mind. So they waited a quite a distance away, just so that they had a fair view of the tea house. Ala was wearing her hood, as had become her custom once more. As it was approaching eleven o’clock, they saw a group of men approaching from far side of the square. They weren’t all together, they were split into twos and threes, all bundled up and hooded. But they all entered the square more or less at the same time, and they looked out of place. Ala counted twenty-three in total. Something was off about them. Myrthe voiced her thoughts.

“That’s a lot of ruffians.”

From where they were, she was pretty sure she could make out Abe despite the distance. After another moment she had picked out Magnus too.

“Why do you think they’ve brought all these hired goons to the payment, Myr?”

Ala felt rather than saw Myrthe’s look.

“Good question? Where did they even find them?”

“Could they… have gotten… reinforcements? But I don’t recognise any of them, I don’t think?”

“Do the Marchmains have any other contacts? Mercenaries, maybe?”

“I’m sure they do, Bernard thought so, at least.”

“But what do they intend? Surely they can’t intend to rob the thieves guild or anything? How would they have dealt with something like this in Thetwick?”

“They might have bullied their way through. Not really anyone to stand up to them there. Perhaps they intend to try and solve the matter the same way here? Maybe they intend to demand their hundred gold coins back? So… yes… perhaps they do intend to rob the guild.”

Myrthe looked amused.

“It would almost be worth sitting back and watching that. Perhaps they just think the goons will make for a better negotiating position, so that it doesn’t cost them yet another two hundred gold just for the right to operate in Duilhac?”

“I’m not sure but it must be something like that. Let’s try and think like thugs for a moment.”

Myrthe looked down at Ala’s sword, “thugs untie their peace strings, for one.”

She was right of course. She had forgotten all about the peace string again. She tried to imagine Myrthe being a thug and giggled at her. Myrthe smiled back as Ala clumsily undid the the red cord keeping her sword in its sheath. It turned out that it was possible to undo the knot with some effort.

“So. Now we wait until they get there and then approach. I hope Brugor and his men are watching. I don’t want to fight twenty-three of them.”

“Agreed, but we’re not going to achieve anything by just standing here.”

“I know, I know. Let’s go.”

They started out across the square towards the tea house. It now appeared busy as most of the brute squad hat taken seats at the tables outside. They didn’t look like they belonged sitting outside a tea house at all. Magnus and Abe had gone inside. They would have to weave their way between the men in order to get to the door. There would be quite a number of the thugs cutting them off from Brugor’s men once they were inside. Ala resigned herself to it. When they reached the tea house, Ala saw there were two of them standing in front of the door, blocking it. They made their way across the terrace with nothing more than scowls from the brutes, but the two big, bearded fellows wouldn’t budge from their place in front of the door. They eyed Ala and Myrthe as they approached.

“Excuse us,” said Ala.

“No entry right now, luv,” said the one on the left. Ala spotted cloaked men leaving various buildings around the square. Brugor’s guardsmen.

“Oh yes there is,” she said, “seeing as you’re all about to be arrested.”

She gestured towards some of Brugor’s men with her eyes. He looked in that direction, over her head, and his companion followed his gaze, which Ala decided was a good moment to punch him in the throat. The companion slowly realised what she had done and drew back his right fist as far as he could. He made the classic mistake of pulling back wide and far, leaving a clear line of approach as his elbow thumped into the door frame. Ala took a single step forward towards him as he punched dropping her own arm into the crook of his elbow, which caused him to lose his balance and stagger against the door. At the same moment Ala rotated her left hip away from the man, to give her scabbard room. She then drew her sword in one smooth movement, not stopping until the tip had just grazed the man’s neck.

“Go home. Live to bully another day,” she whispered to him.

He attempted to swat away her sword, which earned him a deep cut in his neck, she estimated maybe an eighth of an inch from his carotid artery. He’d been lucky. Unfortunately, the men behind them were now standing up, reacting to the commotion. Myrthe pointed out Brugor’s approaching men to the gathered ruffians.

“Perhaps you should be more concerned about those Guardsmen, fellas?”

It stopped their immediate advance towards the door as they surveyed the approaching soldiers, who had now all drawn weapons and unslung their shields. In the meantime, Ala had forced the man away from the door with her sword tip manoeuvring him to her right. He was forced to move against the man who was still retching violently after he had been punched in the throat by Ala. That cleared the door, which Ala pulled open.

“Come on Myr,” Ala called, as she stepped inside. Her hood had slipped down, as it usually did when fighting, so when she stepped into the tea house, she came face to face with Magnus, who had been coming towards the door to see what was going on.

“Hello Magnus,” she said, “nice to see you again.” He began to back away from her, drawing his sword.

“If it isn’t our little elf bitch! Just in time!” He yelled. His eyes gave him away, they were darting around, looking for an escape. She moved towards him as he stepped back, pulling a table into her way. Abe and two of the hired toughs were on their feet too, weapons drawn.

“Kill her!” Magnus commanded the men.

Matt was in the back of the room, together with two other men, presumably also members of the thieves guild. They were both looking around trying to determine where the greatest danger was. They understood that the timing of all these events could hardly be a coincidence. One of the thieves had a thin moustache, the other was balding with dirty blond hair and a slight paunch. With the tables in the way, the floor was only clear enough to allow Abe and one other man to approach her. Abe appeared to be in no rush to be the first to approach her. He was clearly more than happy to hang back. The other man had no previous experience of Ala to make him wary and he came at her, his sword tip leading the way in the cramped confines of the tea room.

Ala focused herself, focusing her energy with a short yell as she brought her blade up between them with a twist at the last possible moment, crossing a lot of ground and knocking his blade askew as she did so. Her blade rang against his, as she continued her movement and stabbed her blade through his gut and out of his back, severing his spinal cord. Her mailed glove came within six inches of his belly, straight through the leathers he was wearing. It was much deeper into the man than she had intended and far from ideal. She was going to have to spend valuable moments extricating her blade. She hadn’t had much other choice, a swing was too likely to have caught her sword on an overhead beam or the furniture. Abe saw his chance with her blade caught in the first man’s stomach. Myrthe evidently thought she was in danger too, because she screamed and made a completely inept lunge at Abe with her new riding sword. Ala rotated to her left, moving the pommel of her sword upwards and to the left with her while rotating. She held on to the sword as she stepped forward, until she was standing right next to Abe, who was still in the midst of his interrupted advance.

Myrthe’s wild swing had opened the priestess up to attack completely. Thankfully, Abe had decided that Ala was a bigger threat now that his companion was out of the fight. He was trying to turn towards her quickly enough. Ala used her unoccupied side, slid even closer to Abe, and raised her arm straight up. Abe now finally realised the danger there and tried to move his head around it. She dropped her arm using the momentum he had initiated, steered his head off course a little and then smashed it with all the speed she could put into it, into the back of a chair. Abe continued down onto the ground and didn’t appear to be moving. Her last step forward had pulled her sword free of the first man as she heard the crash of glass. Ala turned round in time to see the second hired ruffian now hesitate to approach her. Magnus had dived through a closed window, spreading broken glass and the wood the window had been set in around. Matt was seriously botching the job of trying to blackjack one of the two other men who had been near him. She hoped he was a better cat-burglar than a mugger. The second man, with the moustache, had now caught on to Matt’s double-cross and had decided it was time to leave. He too ran for the window that Magnus had just opened with his bulk. The second hired man decided his chances weren’t very good and dropped his sword.

“Cover him,” Ala said to Myrthe, as she stepped across the tea room and placed the tip of her blade at the base of the moustached man’s skull. He was just about to shove a dagger into Matt’s guts.

“Drop it. My sword hand is faster that your dagger. Save it for another time.”

She said quietly to the thief. He complied, dropping the blade, which appeared to be coated in something sticky and smelly. She saw that Matt had a deep cut over his knuckles.

“Try to stop him drawing that did you?” She asked him.

“Yeah.”

Ala carefully picked up the dagger and passed it to Matt.

“Keep that on his neck,” she said as she walked to the window.

There was no trace of Magnus.

“Damn. He got away. I hope the guardsmen stopped him.”

She turned back to Matt.

“That blade of his has something on it. The cut will heal, not sure what the poison will do.”

“I don’t feel anything yet.”

Brugor burst into the tea house, followed by two guardsmen, he looked disappointed that the excitement was over.

“Good morning Sergeant-Major Brugor, Magnus and another man, probably a member of the Guild, escaped through the window,” she said, gesturing to indicate the direction.

Brugor looked around.

“Put everyone but the two ladies in chains, men. I’m going outside to see if they caught the other two.”

Ala followed him out. Myrthe, relieved of the burden of shakily pointing her riding sword at the hired man, went over to Matt and looked at his hand.

Outside, there were four men down, near one another. Two dead guardsmen, one wounded, and a dead thief. Magnus had escaped. Some guardsmen had given chase, but Magnus had managed to effectively disappear. The man was more resourceful and dangerous than Ala would have given him credit for. It seemed Magnus was responsible for the two dead guardsmen making his escape. That made him very unwelcome in Duilhac, Ala thought.

“Sorry about your men Sergeant-Major, I had no idea Magnus had grown so dangerous.” In truth it puzzled her, Magnus had no reputation as a warrior that she knew of. How was he so dangerous? Even jumping through the window didn’t feel right, he oughtn’t to have been able to do that in one try, she felt. She filed the oddity to reexamine later.

Brugor shrugged, seemingly both angry and resigned, “Damn. I told them not to underestimate those thieves! They died doing their job. It’s better than can be said for some. Fuck!” He was chastising himself more than he was speaking to Ala, she realised.

Brugor shook it off quickly, focusing on his duties. The city watch, the organisation that was supposed to be in charge of order in Duilhac finally made their appearance. They were obviously annoyed by the guard’s intrusion. Ala wondered why they hadn’t been called by Brugor immediately. Gladiuth must have expressly not informed them.

As the watch sergeant stormed towards Brugor, Ala whispered to him, “you don’t trust the watch?”

“We have believed that they are infiltrated by the Guild for some time. Gladiuth and the Captain decided not to tell them. How did you know?”

“If you trusted them, you would have told them last night. They would have been with you, but they’re only just arriving.”

“Very observant, Lady Alagariel.”

Ala almost didn’t notice that Brugor has also addressed her as you would a noble. Again. The watch sergeant arrived.

“What’s going on here Sergeant-Major? Why is the guard out in the city on a quiet Seventh morning?”

He was having trouble finding the right tone between respect for a Sergeant-Major and the requisite amount of annoyance.

“Last minute information,” Brugor lied smoothly, “no time to inform you.”

“Well, we’ll throw them in the watch dungeon for you.”

“No thanks, Duke’s orders. It’s to be the Castle Dungeon.”

“That’s not according to the charter, Sergeant-Major!”

“I guess you’re just going to have to take that up with the Duke. There are cases where he has precedence, I suppose he feels this is one of them.”

“You can’t just…”

“Look, Sergeant. I follow my orders. Take it up with the Duke,” said Brugor in a tone that left no room for argument.

The watch sergeant frowned and looked down the main thoroughfare, like he was expecting backup. One of Brugor’s younger Sergeants walked up.

“Sergeant-Major. We have commandeered a cart for the bodies. We’re ready to move out. Three men who pursued the one who escaped have come back. They lost him I’m afraid.”

“Unfortunate Sergeant. Nothing to do about it now. Let’s move out.” The young man nodded respectfully and turned, yelling orders. A guardsman yelled for Brugor from the tea house.

“One of the thieves is having seizures, Sergeant-Major!”

Ala ran back to the tea house, she found Myrthe kneeling with her eyes closed by Matt who was convulsing on the floor. Myrthe was obviously trying to concentrate. Ala put one hand on her shoulder, the other on Matt’s leg. Myrthe looked at Ala.

“I’m going to believe him, I’m going to ask for Guanshiyin’s compassion. I hope I’m not wrong, Guanshiyin will not be amused if I ask her grace to aid a duplicitous thief.”

“I don’t know why, but I believed him too,” Ala whispered to her. Brugor came in, but kept his distance.

Myrthe began to speak, the language was again the one that Ala didn’t understand, but the feeling of warmth, compassion and mercy filled her again. Matt stopped convulsing and opened his eyes moments later.

After looking around dazed, he opened his mouth.

“Was… that… Guanshiyin’s touch?” he croaked softly.

Myrthe opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Yes, you could call it that.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“Well, if he’s faking that he’s convinced me,” Ala said. Myrthe grinned at her. They helped him up, he was still a little shaky, and his hands were chained.

“Are these really necessary Sergeant-Major Brugor?” Myrthe asked.

“Guanshiyin may be merciful priestess, but he still needs to answer to the Duke’s justice.”

Myrthe nodded, displeased but accepting it.

“We’ll do all we can, Matt. I think Guanshiyin has other plans for you than the gallows,” Ala said.

“Well, I bloody hope so. I bet that jerk off got away with the two hundred gold too.”

Brugor smiled, gesturing to Abe with his head.

“Nah, this guy over here was carrying it. Apparently more than a pound of gold was too much weight for his boss to bother carrying himself. The Duke will be pleased,” Brugor said, with a broad smile.

Matt looked a disappointed, obviously understanding that any chance of him getting his hands on it had evaporated.

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