Tag: Free Books

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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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 Guild

That afternoon, they decided to go out despite the risk of another attack. They had to return the horse to the caravan master they had travelled with and Myrthe had arranged to meet her possible thieves’ guild contact at a tea shop on the Royal Square. It was a very public place in a rich part of town with broad avenues. It would be hard for a crossbowman or a knife assassin to get close to them without looking out of place among the richer people who frequented the area. It was a nice sunny day too. A bit too sunny to be wearing a hood really, but Ala decided it would attract less attention than not wearing it. They walked through the streets of Duilhac, keeping to the larger thoroughfares. It was still all very novel to Ala and it was hard to stay properly alert and not be distracted by all the interesting sights in the city. Eventually, they arrived at the Royal Square and headed for the tea shop.

They sat down at a table, with their backs to the wall so that they had a clear field of view of the area around them. A serving boy came out, and offered them tea. He was of average height and seemed quite unremarkable, with brown hair and eyes. Ala spotted Myrthe do a double take and realised that the serving boy must in fact be the person Myrthe had spoken to the evening before. It occurred to her that seeming unremarkable was a valuable quality if you were a thief.

“Ladies, might I suggest the Ti Guanyin? It is said the plants it is made from were a gift from Guanshiyin herself, but of course you know that already Priestess?”

“Yes. Of course. Ti Guanyin will be wonderful. Perhaps we can also speak to you of something else?” Myrthe asked.

“Of course. I understand you wanted something else, off-menu, as it were?”

“Indeed, there is someone whom I wish to no longer have bothering me.”

“Someone is troubling you? That is most unfortunate. I know someone who could speak to them very sternly indeed.”

“I was thinking of something a little more final.”

“Ah. Something definitive, then? A last word perhaps?”

“Yes, that sounds more to my liking.”

“I see. There is a fee involved in such a thing, and some people are harder to… convince… than others.”

“Unfortunate, but expected.”

Was there no end to Myrthe’s hidden talents? Now she was negotiating an assassination as if she did so every day. Or, that’s what Ala thought she must be doing. She decided to just shut up and watch.

“Might I ask who is the cause of your woes?”

“An elven girl. She goes by Alagariel Half-elven though.”

Ala’s eyes widened. She was sitting right here! Her shock didn’t stop her seeing the waiter’s eyes narrow and looking them both over. He then glanced behind him, back at the tea house. Something was definitely askew. She couldn’t imagine he didn’t realise she was sitting there too, but then it wouldn’t be at all strange for him to have no idea who she was, she realised. Still she shifted her hand towards her sword, then moved it again when she remembered she was going to need her knife to cut her peace ties before she could draw it.

“I see. I’ve heard of this person. It may be possible to accommodate your wishes, though I understand that the renumeration to convince this individual has recently been reviewed.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some new information on how stubborn and eloquent she is became available.”

She’d kicked Caerel in the nuts and give Gladiuth a run for his money was what he meant, Ala thought. Also, yesterday’s attempt had failed. Perhaps Abe and the fourth rider had neglected to mention that she was handy with a sword to the guild. Wouldn’t it be nice if she turned out to not be worth the guild’s trouble?

“Hmm. I see,” said Myrthe, “how does this affect my desire to commission a solution?”

“The fee has become exorbitant. If there is another party with the same objective, it may become less prohibitive if both parties cooperate. There are opportunities.”

“There is another party with the same stated objective. I see. What is the total fee to be?”

“It was increased to a thousand yesterday. We speak of tea bundles, yellow ones, of course.”

Did he mean gold coins, Ala wondered? He couldn’t possibly? If so, that would be one thousand gold coins. That was sixty-five thousand silver. Ala stopped herself from whistling. Nice to know her life was worth more than a few silver, sort of. She couldn’t imagine that the Constable of Thetwick had that kind of money to spare though… although… could he? The whole family had been on the take for decades, after all.

“How much tea would I have to contribute?”

“I am afraid the other party’s resources only extend to three hundred bundles right now. You would have to contribute seven hundred to have it done quickly. If you have several weeks patience, the other party has claimed to be able to offer six hundred total, leaving four hundred for you. Perhaps an even split would be best?”

“Your associate had already agreed to do the work before the fee increase? Isn’t that irregular?”

“Not if the original client misrepresented the difficulty of the work, of course. My associates are well within their established rights to commission a review.” He said it with a strange matter-of-fact flatness. The guild was in charge in Duilhac. They could do whatever they wanted. They were in it for the money, after all.

“So you’re saying the original client has forfeited their original fee and the troublemaker can continue going about her business until the full fee is met?”

“That appears to be the current situation, barring the unexpected.”

It was good news. Her performance in the exercise yard had been good for something more than she had expected. It also suggested that the guild was a little annoyed with the fact that the Thetwickers had claimed she would be an easy mark. She wondered if Abe or whoever the fourth rider was were riding up and down to Thetwick to get more money? Somehow, she didn’t think so. There was little point in the whole contract if it didn’t happen before the Duke’s Court went into session and there was no way for them to make it in time. Had they already missed their chance? Would they become so desperate that they would try again themselves? Myrthe continued her little charade as the thoughts raced through Ala’s mind.

“How much exactly did they forfeit? How can I be certain your associate doesn’t decide my troublemaker has yet again been misrepresented and that the fee will rise again? Is the other party good for the further two hundred yellow tea barrels?”

“We are keeping a hundred yellow tea barrels in escrow for the other interested party. The current pricing is for an inordinately rare brand of troublemaker. Possibly more trouble than she is worth. It is unlikely to rise. Nevertheless, I would like to take this opportunity…”

Ala was wondering what Myrthe had in mind now. They didn’t have seven hundred gold coins. She didn’t think even Myrthe’s father would be willing to swing that kind of money, especially for an unclear reason, quite aside from how long it would take to communicate all this back and forth to Easthall. She couldn’t imagine that his factor in the city was allowed to just hand that amount of money to anyone, even one of his daughters.

This tea waiter was their line to Abe and the unknown fellow. It seemed the assassination had been put on hold for now though. She didn’t think that would stop Abe and the fourth rider from making another attempt before the Duke’s Court went into session. Would they want the guild’s approval and tacit support though? Could they afford to get it? She really needed a moment to discuss all this with Myrthe. The priestess was good at these things. Somehow the conversation wasn’t really syncing. She had a sense that there weren’t two levels to the conversation which she was able to follow, but three. She had no idea what the third one was about. She was only following the top two. Myrthe was obviously more in her element, though why a noble’s daughter was so practised at thieves guild double speak made no sense to Ala at all.

“I see. I will want to see the other party and your associate. I want to be certain all that tea is in good hands. It must be done before First morning. I think this evening is the time for a meeting then, it will give you and your associate the most time to organise matters. A place of devotion perhaps, as a quiet meeting place.”

“I am sorry. While I am available, my associate is very reclusive. Perhaps we can organise something where only the other interested party is present? Also, I think it would be the morning of Seventh at the earliest.”

“I am not enthusiastic about the idea. But alright. Tomorrow morning at eleven. Here?”

“Yes that would be fine.”

“Till tomorrow then.” Myrthe got up, leaving Ala to catch up to her.

“Am I missing something here, Myr? What was that all about?”

“I’m not completely sure. But I think that nice young waiter was attempting to make contact with us somewhere where the thieves’ guild isn’t paying attention. I think, we might expect him to visit us tonight.”

Ala reviewed the conversation in her mind. There were phrases in there which could be interpreted that way. She felt way out of her depth.

“He won’t come with a gang of his friends?”

“What would be the point if they don’t expect to get paid?”

They had their evening meal at the temple, which was a surprisingly good lamb stew. After that, Myrthe suggested they sit in the courtyard.

“Perhaps you should practice some swordsmanship, Ala?”

Myrthe had never asked her to practice before, but Ala had given up on trying to understand all the layers of communication for the day, so she stood and drew her sword. Sometimes Myrthe made Ala feel as if she wasn’t smart enough. It wasn’t a problem she was used to. She obliged though, focusing, running through her routines, envisioning the changes and options Gladiuth had suggested. After around half an hour of this, Myrthe rose as an acolyte crossed the courtyard. Something in the way he moved, or Myrthe reacted made Ala change her focus. She saw that the acolyte was the tea waiter from earlier in the day. She kept her guard, but Myrthe had obviously been expecting him.

“Thank you for the way marker Lady Alagariel. Priestess, a pleasure,” he said, bowing his head.

Ala just kept an eye on him. Myrthe spoke, “I am lucky that I understand a little Cant. What shall we call you, tea-waiter?”

“My name is Matthew. Matt is fine. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Myrthe led them to a room off the side of the main temple hall, used for private conversations. She barred the door behind them.

“You’ll understand if I’m concerned that this just may be an elaborate ploy to get close to Alagariel. Please relinquish any weapons, then strip. Thieves can be crafty.”

“I came unarmed especially.”

“Then just strip.” He looked at the two women uncertainly, then obliged. He stacked his clothes neatly.

“Undergarments too please. Stark naked,” Myrthe commanded.

She wasn’t doing it to be funny, Ala could hear in her voice. He was a well developed young man, with finely toned muscles, like a climber or a sprinter. She pulled a rough woollen robe from a closet.

“Pull that on and sit down, Matt. Now, why are we here?”

“Well, abandoning the Cant. I want out of the guild before I have to do something truly distasteful to me. I don’t mind a little thievery, but firing that crossbow at the two of you yesterday was the drop. I didn’t even know who I was attacking. I was nervous I fired as soon as I saw a target. Thankfully Lady Alagariel is very fast, incredibly so. I really don’t want to be murdering people. I’m way too good of a thief not to be assigned that kind of tasks by the Guild and I want no part of it. They’re meaning to make an assassin out of me and I want out.”

Ala spoke, frowning. “That was you?”

“Yes, yes, that was me. I’m sorry okay. As you noticed, I was shaking a bit too much to be a very good shot. I think that’s what you spotted, Lady Alagariel.”

“I’m not a lady, Matt. Just Alagariel.”

“Really? I thought all fire elves were nobles of their people? That’s what the stories say.”

Ala looked at Myrthe, who nodded at her and said, “now that he mentions that… I’ve never really thought about it, but it’s true.”

“Oh. I didn’t know.”

“Oh yeah. You grew up with humans. Those Thetwickers talked about you. Well, I don’t pretend to know anything about nobility, but I don’t think it’s something you get to choose is it?”

“He’s right Ala. You can choose to hide it for whatever reason… but that’s going to be harder for you if all Fire Elves are nobility… but nobility isn’t a choice.”

“Look… I’m not trying to hide anything. I didn’t know and I’d never really thought about it. Also… those stories have to be right for this to be at all relevant.”

“I’d bet they probably are, but I’m just a lowlife. No one could look at you and come to any other conclusion. But that’s not why I came here. I want out of the guild, I don’t want to murder either of you and I need a ticket out of this damn city so they don’t kill me for trying to leave.”

“And you thought we might help you after you tried to kill us?” Myrthe asked him.

“Well, for one, you wouldn’t have known it was me if I hadn’t told you. Second, I missed. Third, I can help you with these people who are going around hiring thieves guilds to try and kill you. Fourth, they have quite a lot of cash, which would be helpful, to me at least. Fifth, I have skills which would be beneficial to you if you let me tag along. Sixth, not every tried and tested thief is as much of a friendly softy as me. Seventh, I was pretty damn sure about who you were, Lady Alagariel, when you visited the tea house and I didn’t mention it to my guild seniors who were hanging out in the back.”

“Nice speech,” said Myrthe, “why would you want to travel with us? We don’t even know where we’re going,”
Ala could tell from the look in Matt’s eyes that he was dead serious.

“Assuming you have something sensible to say to the Duke, I expect you’ll be going to Thetwick. He’s going to need to set his affairs in order there. The Duke is very particular about his justice. He’d want to avoid all possible suspicion of favouritism, so I don’t think he’ll be assigning an elf as captain there. He’ll send someone else, and Lady Alagariel here will be free to travel, the Duke might even suggest it. After that, you’re an elf. You’ll probably want to seek out your brethren at some stage. I guess that’s what I’d do. Assuming that’s within my lifetime, I think that’s something I’d like to see. I could go on guessing, but I admit it might become wishful thinking from here on in.”

Despite having been shot at by him, Ala found herself liking the boy. He’d obviously given it all quite a lot of thought. Myrthe was smiling too.

“Alright Matt. You seem earnest, but then I think you probably have had a lot of practice making it seem that way. So why not just leave Duilhac? Even if the gates are watched by your fellow guildsmen or the guards know you by sight, you’re clearly resourceful enough to slip out of here. Why do you want to follow Ala here around? It’s not like the guild will put any less of a price on your head if you are Ala’s bodyguard.”

It occurred to Ala that Myrthe had formulated the question as much to learn Matt’s motivations as to examine her own.

Matt continued his pitch, “look. My mother was – is a prostitute. She loves me, but she’s going nowhere. My father was hanged for murder when I was three.”

“Okay,” said Myrthe, “I’ll concede that that’s a rough start.”

Matt continued, “in my circles, you had to fend for yourself and you really couldn’t expect to be apprenticed to a carpenter or anything. I just made do. It means I don’t know the first thing about farming, hunting or anything like that. I’ve hardly ever been outside Duilhac. Not that I haven’t learned other skills, but pretty much all of them are based on profiting from others through duplicity or violence. I’m not too bothered stealing from people who can obviously miss it, but the guild steals from anyone they can bully or kill. Everyone is fair game. I never liked that and I don’t want to be a part of that.”

“How did you suddenly develop this noble outlook?” asked Ala.

“It’s not like that. It’s just… us lowlifes should be looking out for each other, not cutting each other’s throats. But the skill I’ve developed is the only trade I have. I’m going to need to hang out with people who may have a use for someone with my… expertise.”

“I find it hard to believe you’ve been waiting for the arrival of a fire elf as your ticket out of the city?”

“No priestess, of course not. Lady Alagariel’s story came up when those two yokels bought a contract to have her killed. I decided this was an opportunity when I saw her kick that asshole Caerel in the nuts. That was priceless.”

Matt was silent for a moment as if he was gathering courage to pose a question, “what about you priestess? What’s your excuse? Why are you with her?”

“I’m on Sojourn and she’s interesting to be around. There’s a sense of… destiny…”

“Wait,” said Ala, “you were watching us in the courtyard? long have you been following us around?”

“I was watching the castle, I figured you’d show up there. I saw the spar with Caerel, but I couldn’t hang around in the yard for too long without being noticed. I caught up to you at the dress shop. You lost me again after that.”

Alagariel had been paying careful attention to the conversation. He did seem to be earnest, but she just couldn’t tell for sure.

She turned to Myrthe, “is there any way of knowing if we can trust him?”

“I don’t think there is.”

“So it’s a judgement call. Have you told us everything there is to know?”

“One more thing, before I came here, one of those yokels turned up at the tea house and wanted to use the money they had already deposited to rent some disposable toughs and the Guild’s permission to kill the two of you. I made them offer the other two hundred gold they should still be holding. That’s what they’ll have with them tomorrow morning.”

“What are the two men’s names?” Ala asked.

“Abe is the dumbest of the two. The other guy is bigger, tougher and smarter. His name is Magnus. He was the one who came this afternoon.”

That was the Constable’s son himself.

Myrthe spoke, “so, say we go to this meeting tomorrow, where Magnus and his two hundred gold coins will be. Say Ala manages to subdue Magnus and Abe and anyone else there. Will you speak at the Duke’s Court and accept his mercy?”

“You guys are not the watch you know. What makes you think a pitched battle like that won’t put you two in the dungeon?”

“Well, I would make sure someone of importance at the keep was informed,” Ala said.

“Do I really need to do that? The Duke doesn’t like thieves.”

“It’s the only way I can think of that would prove your intent. I think you have a better than fair chance of coming out of it with your skin intact. No guarantees though,” said Myrthe.

Matt sagged a bit. The prospect of handing himself in was understandably troubling. The Duke’s justice was not gentle. Matt was silent for a time, before speaking.

“I’ll do it. I hope Guanshiyin is as compassionate as they say.”

“That settles it then. Where is the exchange tomorrow?”

“At the tea-house. It’s a front for the guild.”

“So, we all agree to take a risk then,” Ala said.

It hadn’t been all that easy to convince the watch to let them talk to Gladiuth several hours after dark. Eventually, they convinced the watchmen to get a hold of Sergeant-Major Brugor. They seemed to be less concerned about waking him up. He quickly let them in and brought them to Gladiuth, who had, by then, clearly already been woken by a guardsman.

“Come in, come in ladies, Brugor please hang around for a moment… what could possibly lead the two of you to seek me out in the middle of the night?”

Ala explained the events leading up to their visit though she carefully skirted around the more salacious details.

“Do you trust this Matt?” Gladiuth asked.

“It could be an elaborate trap in some way I suppose. It doesn’t feel that way, but as Myr pointed out, Matt’s probably good at sounding trustworthy. If he is truthful though… well, it’s a chance for a big blow against the guild quite apart from the fact that he can testify at the Duke’s Court in support of my case.”

“Fair enough. Brugor, your opinion?”

“Master, I don’t know about this Matt fellow. He sounds shifty. We should make sure we have enough men there though. I don’t see what we have to lose. If he cooperates, fine, if he doesn’t, well all we will have done is cost some guardsmen their Seventh morning. The men were getting a little soft anyway. It’s a bit more dangerous for the Ladies here, but well, it is their idea and we’ve seen that Lady Alagariel can take care of herself.”

“Alright, it’s settled then. Put together a squad for duty tomorrow morning. I’ll clear it with the Captain. We’ll form up here at first light. We’ll hide in some citizen’s hallways, if we’re early enough it ought to be alright.”

Brugor snapped his heels together, turned and left. Gladiuth looked at the two women.

“Do you have any mail, Myrthe? Ever wielded a weapon?”

“Mail? No. Of course not. And no, never wielded a weapon, unless you count a butter knife.”

“Hmm… I can find you some mail. I would feel better if you were to carry a weapon, too.”

“I would have no idea what to do with it.”

“Nonetheless…”

He rummaged around one of the chests in is office and found what he was looking for. He gave Myrthe a short, short-sleeved, mail hauberk. Ala looked at it, it looked like it was good quality, with quite small riveted flat rings.

“What do you think Alagariel? A sword?”

“Perhaps a light riding sword?”

“Yes that might be best.” He strode along his collection. “Here, this will do nicely.” It was an ornate riding sword, with a scabbard. It was quite nice and not too heavy. Myrthe took it uncertainly. Ala looked at it closely, and drew it. It was a handsome and well made blade. Not an Ulfberht, but far better quality than what many a guardsmen had to work with.

“I’ll return these as soon as I can,” Myrthe said.

“I insist that you keep them. I would be distraught if they could ever make the difference and you didn’t have them,” said Gladiuth.

“What of your collection?” Asked Ala, puzzled.

“I really see it as more of… a managed redistribution effort. I give weapons away when I feel the occasion warrants it.”

“In that case, thank you, Master Gladiuth,” said Myrthe.

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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.

Spar

They went back out to the practice yard where the afternoon’s matches were still in full swing. Myrthe was chatting merrily with Caerel, laughing infectiously even though Caerel was clearly still recovering from his exertions. Caerel glared at Ala when he noticed her approach. To his credit he was obviously trying not to, swiftly turning his attention back to Myrthe. Ala wondered if she had used Guanshiyin’s magic to heal him as an excuse to touch his private parts. She shook the thought off. What was wrong with her today? She needed to concentrate on swordplay, she was about to spar with the Weapon Master of Taladaria, it was going to require her undivided attention. Ala was learning that Myrthe was rather more devious and clever behind those happy brown eyes than anyone gave her credit for. She had gotten to know Myrthe pretty well during the trip. There was an immense depth, warmth and intelligence below the bubbly, happy veneer, compared to that warmth, the devious cunning underlying it was all the more lovable.

All the men practising in the courtyard were very deferential to Gladiuth. Gladiuth stopped by an unused practice circle and they were almost immediately attended by the big bearded man.

“Brugor, may we have two wasters and bucklers, please?”

“Right away, Master.”

Brugor glared at a young guardsman without saying a word, who rushed off to get them. She left her sword and scabbard, cloak and bag with Myrthe again, and stepped into the ring. Brugor stood ready to call points. Once the word got round that Gladiuth was sparring, all the other activity in the yard tapered off and they all came to watch. That probably meant that no one here could best him, Ala realised. She was pretty sure there was some betting going on as well. Without much ceremony, the bout started with a small salute. It was the first time she had fought someone who was better than her in a very long time. She scored points as well, but Gladiuth scored more, and won more bouts. She managed to win one bout out of five, but she scored points in all four others, being only one point from a win in two. They were both exhausted and sweating profusely by the end of it. Quite a crowd had gathered to watch them.

“Thank you, Master Gladiuth,” she said in between gasps.

“He-he, that was the best workout I’ve had in years,” he said, panting.

They talked more about their shared practice and Gladiuth showed her a few technical points she could work on by herself.

“I wonder if I will still win the next time we spar,” he said.

“I don’t understand? It’s almost impossible to surpass a master who keeps practising, Bernard told me.”

Gladiuth looked at her with a thoughtful expression.

“It is clear to me that you were born for this. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s in all the old stories about Fire Elves. They are the elven warriors, unmatched masters of the blade. It’s in their bones, in their souls even and you are still very young, by elven standards.”

“I feel I will need to read these stories.”

“I do recommend you do, there may even be clues to your heritage in them. The reason I wonder if I will be able to win spars with you goes further however. Bernard was a good swordsman. Very good, but not nearly as good as me and that was before I ever left to study with the elves.”

“You’ve studied with elven sword masters? I envy you. I hope I will one day be able to do the same.”

“I am sure you will. You are already much better than Bernard ever was and unless there is some other teacher you haven’t told me about, that means you must have improved your techniques yourself, even developed new applications of principle, things that I never knew Bernard to do. Things that I have never seen done in two centuries. Things that surprised me. That is truly rare.”

“I did study the Liechtenauer Fechtbuch.”

“I know, obviously. So did I. Bernard got it from me. You have surpassed that too. Let me point out that you were only two points from beating me – and that without the benefit of all the practice that the Duke’s regiment, visiting warriors and elven sword masters can offer. I am at the end of my journey of learning, you are at the beginning. It is a little humbling, to be honest. Good though, we all need reminding that there is more to learn, from time to time.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m flattered.”

“Just don’t stop learning. I dare say you owe it to those of us who are afflicted with such a fascination for swordplay. I already yearn to see what you will be able to achieve with more study. Perhaps then, I will even be able to learn something from you.”

“I have every intention of continuing to learn, Master Gladiuth. As you said, I was just feeling like I was beginning. Maybe you’re right, it is a kind of affliction.”

“We will spar again soon.”

Gladiuth called an end to the Fifth afternoon sparring. The muster was called and the troops not on guard duty were dismissed. Most of them went in to town to amuse themselves. Fifth was payday and it would be busy in Duilhac that night. Myrthe was chatting heartily with a group of guardsmen, lavishing her attention on Caerel who was the centre of the group. She wasn’t the prettiest girl Ala had ever seen, but she more than made up for it with charisma and the warmth of her personality. Ala waited for her to finish which required a substantial amount of patience which Ala knew was not her best quality. Myrthe skipped over afterwards, looking a little smug, Ala thought.

“What?” asked Ala, doing her best to suppress her annoyance that things had taken so long.

“Oh… I have a date tonight…”

“With Caerel?” asked Ala, suddenly interested.

“Yes, of course. I think he needs some compassion. Someone kicked him rather hard you know. Most thoughtless.”

Ala wasn’t sure what to make of all this.

“What shall I do? If I go with you, I’ll make us all a target…”

“I’ll be fine. Guanshiyin will take care of you while I’m gone. Caerel will be surrounded by his little court of admirers and guardsmen. While they might not be a match for you, I think they’ll manage between them.”

“You’re a very strange priestess.”

“Is that so?”

“Sorry. I guess you’re just… different that I expect from priestesses.”

“Thetwick has a temple to Ceres doesn’t it? They’re very boring, like the cattle they tend. Of course you don’t expect much excitement from those docile cows. Guanshiyin is a little more interesting.”

“So I’m learning.”

Ala pulled her hood up, to hide her pointed ears and red-golden hair. They started back down into the city to the temple.

“One thing to organise,” said Myrthe, “we need to make a stop.”

They walked down into Duilhac and Myrthe found what she was looking for near the Green Duck guest house. It was a dress shop, a tailor really. They were there for almost two hours before Myrthe had what she had in mind, which included a long, form fitting dress which showed enough cleavage to create a major scandal in Thetwick. The loose priestess robes Myrthe normally wore hid just how voluptuous she was. A pair of boots with higher heels and a red cloak were purchased. The shop boy was sent out to a nearby shoemaker to fetch an assortment of boots several times before a pair to Myrthe’s liking arrived. To top it all off, Myrthe purchased a bottle of a perfume which smelt a little of vanilla. It was all paid for with a letter of credit that the proprietress could apparently exchange for coin at the Easthall’s factor in the city. Ala watched the proceedings with interest and wondered if Baron Easthall wouldn’t mind that one of his daughters had just spent several months wages for a day-worker in a single sitting. Myrthe seemed oblivious to the cost. Ala just shook her head and watched everything being put together. The dress and accessories were bundled up in a nice package for them, secured with a gaudy pink cloth ribbon. The proprietress then asked if nothing should be done about Ala’s clothes. Myrthe looked surprised for a moment, then smiled evilly. Before she knew it Ala was being helped out of her mail and was having a dress fitted too. She protested to Myrthe that she couldn’t afford to spend so much on a dress.

“Don’t worry, the Baron is paying. He’s had an easy time of it since I joined the priesthood anyway, these habits cost nothing. Me and my sisters used to visit a tailor every week in Easthall, I’ve saved him a fortune already by being ordained.”

It had never really been brought into focus for Ala just how large the difference in wealth between nobles and commoners was. Several sisters doing this every week… it might be an exaggeration, but even then, they were spending what day workers made in a year between them every few weeks. The casual display of wealth was shocking.
Ala’s dress was more difficult. Quite a lot of things had to be changed, and some new bits made. They agreed to pick it up on First afternoon, after the Duke’s Court.

Myrthe suddenly realised that it was approaching time for the evening meal, and switched from behaving as if she hadn’t a care in the world to being in a terrible hurry for her date. She wanted to rush out the shop’s front door.

“Maybe we should go out the back, Myr?” Ala cautioned.

“Hmm… yes… I suppose you’re right, may we, mistress?”

The mistress of the establishment evidently couldn’t fathom why they would want to go out the back, but as far as she was concerned, they were excellent customers and if they wanted to leave out the back, that was just fine with her.

Ala looked carefully out the back door. There were some small curtained windows across from them, not all completely drawn. She didn’t see any movement, but then she wouldn’t if there was a smart crossbowman hiding in there. She stepped outside with Myrthe behind her. She wasn’t sure what she reacted to, but she pushed Myrthe roughly to the side of the door, using the momentum to push herself to the other side. The crossbow bolt passed between them and buried itself most of the way through the door they had just come out of. Ala rushed across the doorway, grabbing Myrthe’s hand and running on to the next corner. Myrthe wanted to start towards the main thoroughfare, but Ala pulled her the other way.

“If they were watching the back, they’re watching the front too!”

Myrthe nodded and they ran the other way into a maze of back alleys. That wasn’t good either. There were dirty children, chickens, pigs and goats all over the place as well as unidentifiable muck on the mud tracks in between the buildings. Myrthe stopped Ala for a moment, and walked up to one of the larger dirty children. “Can you show us the quickest way to the Royal Square?”

The boy eyed her suspiciously.

“Look, I’ll pay you a full silver coin, as soon as you show us the way, alright?”

That lit the boy’s eyes up.

“This wa’ay thun Priesess,” and he ran off. Keeping up was tricky, the route led through several courtyards, over and under some fences and walls, through a few vegetable gardens and over roofs. The boy had to wait for them a few times while they caught up. It got them to the Royal Square though, without effective pursuit, or at least they hadn’t seen anyone following. Myrthe gave the boy his silver piece, which was obviously a lot of money for him. Ala hoped he was smart enough not to brag about it.

They made their way from the Royal Square to the Temple of Guanshiyin, which wasn’t far. They kept a careful eye on the road behind them, but couldn’t spot anyone who they could really call suspicious. Not that that was all that much help, a priestess and an elf-girl in mail drew attention all the time. There was no way of knowing if any of the many people watching them had more than just idle curiosity motivating them. Inside the temple, Myrthe made Ala help her bathe. Then she made Ala bathe as well, which was wonderful and refreshing. She also hadn’t had a proper bath since one of her nightly swims in the lake in Thetwick quite a long time ago. She did spot Myrthe running an appraising glance over her body.

“Well, everything they say about elven beauty is true,” Myrthe said, mostly to herself.

Ala didn’t know what to say. She was more or less aware of what she looked like and the attention it drew. Ala couldn’t really blame Myrthe for looking, she had done the same and wondered what it might be like to be curved so magnificently. Ala wasn’t completely certain Myrthe’s interest wasn’t just a little more than purely aesthetic. The girl radiated a sort of all encompassing sensuality, or was it just her imagination? She assumed it must be her elven ancestry that she wasn’t shocked by the thought. Certainly no one in Thetwick would have approved of anything other than a traditional relationship between a man and a woman. She decided to try and think nothing more of it. Ala was then instructed how to help Myrthe dress, tightening her corset and straightening her dress. Eventually she was ready and Myrthe was suddenly a dashing noble lady rather than a priestess in a grey robe. She even sported the tiny dagger that all noble women wore to denote their rank. Common women weren’t allowed to be armed, after all.

“You’ll be alright out there, on your own?”

“They’re trying to kill you, not me. Though I suppose they may change their mind once they realise how annoying I can be.”

Ala laughed. “Unimaginable. Be safe,” she said, and kissed her goodbye for some reason. They had been more or less joined at the hip for several weeks. Myrthe smiled and bounced off into the evening, calling a horse carriage to take her to the Green Duck. She had kept up that part of the deception, telling Caerel that that was where they were staying.

Myrthe didn’t come back until several hours after sunrise the following day. Ala had a hell of a time getting into her meditative state. She spent most of the night nervously practising sword forms. Myrthe looked a little dishevelled, with locks of hair having escaped and smelled a bit of wine, but was none the worse for wear. She looked tired but happy.

“Where have you been?” Ala almost yelled when Myrthe came in. She looked at Ala coyly.

“A Lady doesn’t tell…”

“With Caerel? Oh my…”

Myrthe smiled.

“He’s as good as he looks.”

It occurred to Ala that there was still a lot to Myrthe she hadn’t yet understood.

“I was worried. You might have told me it could take all night.”

“Well, it wasn’t completely planned. It just sort of happened.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting pregnant?”

“I’m a priestess Ala. We are free to decide if we want to have children. It’s a gift from Guanshiyin.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because sometimes the necessary compassion is physical. Guanshiyin does not then afflict her priestesses with random children in return.”

“I see.” Ala thought about it for a moment before continuing. “How incredibly practical… and compassionate I guess. That makes an astounding amount of sense. Guanshiyin is pretty cool. I take it Caerel was in need of a lot of physical compassion?”

“More than you might think. Not that I didn’t enjoy giving it to him,” Myrthe said with a sultry look, “but you were pretty brutal on him in front of his peers. I think he may be a better man with that wound properly salved.”

“You keep surprising me Myrthe.”

“Good. I did something else useful too. I’ll tell you about it after I get some sleep.”

Ala sighed and decided to rest herself for a few more hours after she had had some breakfast. She had had a restless night too, if not quite so enjoyable. Myrthe was still asleep when she had had enough. Not being able to think of what else to do, she went out and did more sword work, repeating and repeating, integrating Gladiuth’s advice into what she already knew. A still dishevelled Myrthe made her appearance around midday, in priestesses’ robes again. They went together for another meal, which they took into the garden so they could speak quietly.

“Will you please tell me what else you did?”

“Oh yes. I think I’ve made contact with someone from the thieves’ guild.”

“Really? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“I don’t know. I said I wanted to have someone assassinated.”

“I see. The idea being that that will put us in contact with whoever is in charge of the contract to assassinate me?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Or at least someone who knows what goes on in the city when it comes to the business of contracted killing.”

“You think they’ll tell us where the person who put out the contract is?”

“Hmm… maybe. I suppose it depends on the money and how likely it is to damage their reputation for reliability, or their operation. It’s always a matter of figuring out how to sweeten the deal.”

“I don’t have much money. I can afford to travel around like this for a while, but I probably can’t afford an assassination. I’m not sure I can afford to ‘sweeten the deal’ even. That leaves their reputation for reliability, which they have no reason to endanger, since I can’t afford to overbid and make it worth damaging their operations.”

“You are such a negative Nellie sometimes, Ala.”

“I suppose I could run around the city running through suspected thieves until they come begging for mercy. Somehow I think that might not be as effective as I’d like to think it would be. Also, the guard probably won’t approve.”

“You’re really being very negative. Let me play this angle for a bit. We’ll see what comes out. You never know how a cow catches a hare. I made a bit of a killing yesterday when they were all wagering on you, so perhaps I have enough coin for a contract.”

“You bet on me?” Ala asked, a little coldly.

“Of course. Seemed like a good investment after what happened at Hightower.”

Ala shook her head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you for all this, it’s a lot more than I’ve managed here.”

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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.

Peyrepertuse

The horses were safe and comfortable in Guanshiyin’s stables, so they decided to walk up to the castle. It was a stiff walk up the hill along a winding trail, most of it with high walls to either side. Ala couldn’t help but think of Bernard’s countless explanations on how to build defences. The masons who had built the approach to Peyrepertuse had certainly shared his philosophy. The guards at the gate were clearly bored and waved them through without challenge. Ala and Myrthe didn’t look like marauding orcks or Oakharrowers, so they just grunted and pointed when Myrthe asked where the Dukes’ Regiment was quartered.

The courtyard was enormous and it was busy. Competitions were being held, ranging from spear and javelin throwing, archery, pike and lance accuracy trials as well as numerous bouts of swordplay. Ala gravitated over to those out of interest and was relieved she didn’t see anyone doing anything she didn’t think she could manage. She spotted a big, muscular bearded man. He had the same sort of bearing as Bernard had had though he was obviously much younger. He looked like he had some authority over the proceedings and Ala walked over to him.

“Excuse me, sir?”

The man turned towards her, regarding her with an expression of mild distrust.

“I’m looking for a half-elf named Gladiuth. I think he’s a weapons master? Could you tell me where I might find him?”

The big man expression became a bit of a glare now. Ala wondered what she’d done wrong.

“Why should I let you bother him girl? Who are you?”

“My name is Alagariel. I have something for him.”

“Well, whatever it is, you can give it to me. I’ll make sure it’s passed on.”

“I’m sorry. I can only entrust it to his direct care.”

“You saying I can’t be trusted girl?” He growled.

Ala was losing patience rapidly. She had long learned that someone’s size wasn’t something she was going to let affect her.

“You may interpret it however you wish. As long as you direct me to him.”

It belatedly occurred to Ala that she would have been better off formulating her last remark in a slightly less antagonistic way.

“You had better know how to use that blade at your waist, girl.”

She could feel Myrthe stiffening beside her. Another voice spoke behind her.

“She’s an elf or something, Brugor. See the hair? Haven’t you heard of Alagariel? She rides patrols out of Thetwick I think… for that really old militia Captain. You know? That ancient bloke in the Westmarch. Bernard… uhm… Alanson? I think so. An able fighter and patrol leader of his, or so he reports. You are Alagariel aren’t you?”

The big man was no longer interested in Ala’s slight.

“Sorry milord, didn’t make the connection,” his eyes didn’t leave her though.

He was respectful to the speaker, but not at all deferential. Ala decided the bearded man wasn’t going to try and hit her unannounced. She looked round. A young, fair, well built man in his early twenties stood about twenty paces behind her. He was wearing a regimental officer’s surcoat over his mail and looked rather dashing, even to Ala. The surcoat must have been tailored, she decided. She could see he affected Myrthe too, the priestess was gaping at him. His eyes met hers.

“I’ll tell you what, Alagariel, we spar. If you win, I’ll take you to Gladiuth myself.”

“Agreed,” she said, without the slightest hesitation.

She removed the the long tied bundle that she had slung across her back and passed it to Myrthe. It contained Bernard’s hand and a half Ulfberht sword and scabbard. Next, she unbuckled her sword and took down her hood, then handed both cloak and sword belt to the priestess as well. This caused a bit of a flutter among the gathered men, who now all realised that she was a young elven woman. The bearded man, Brugor, had obviously forgotten the disagreement he was having with her and gleefully handed her a wooden sparring sword and a buckler, smiling broadly now. He was evidently keen to see the bout.

The nearest practice ring was cleared and the two of them stepped in. She felt the weight of the sparring blade, testing its balance. It had been years since she had bothered with a wooden practice sword. She was quite capable of sparring safely with live weapons, even her own elfblade. The young man attacked her with a diagonal sweep. She met it with her own blade and slipped her blade off it, tapped his sword out of the way and used the return energy to place the blade on his neck. Brugor, the bearded man called a point for her. The young officer tried a straight attack, she took the centre line back from him with a twist of her practice sword and placed the tip of the blade on the man’s neck yet again. Another point was called for her. A murmur started among the men. Her opponents’ next attack became a little wilder. He was becoming angry, she sensed. That suited her just fine.

After she had scored six points to nil, he lost his temper and came after her as she was walking back towards her starting marker. She had been waiting for that too, whirled on the spot and parried the attack aimed at her rearmost leg and then dropped her practice sword as she stepped in, moving until she was all the way behind him, then kicked up in between his legs, and put her hand over his head with her fingers in his eye sockets. She pulled his head backwards just as he wanted to crumple forwards, dropping him violently onto his back into the sand. She dropped one knee onto his neck and the other in between the muscles on his upper sword arm, and then disarmed him and threw the sword away.

“I don’t believe that’s in the sparring rules, you know,” she said quietly.

He couldn’t quite formulate words with her knee on his neck, he was gasping for breath. The men standing around were now dead silent.

“I trust that was a valuable lesson, Lord Caerel. I’ve told you to watch your temper often enough.”

It was a new voice, commanding yet melodic. It had an aspect of her own voice, but was clearly masculine. Perhaps this was Gladiuth? Ala wondered who this Lord Caerel that she had just kicked in the nuts was and whether she was going to regret it. Ala got up, moving backwards, rolling to a standing position over the balls of her feet and backing away from Caerel, though he didn’t yet seem to be able to try and attack her again. Once she felt she was at a safe distance, she turned towards the voice. The man was brown haired, with tanned, earthy skin and brown eyes. He was tall, with finely toned muscles and a blade at his belt. He was wearing very fine mail, probably the nicest she had ever seen. His ears were slightly pointed. He nodded his head towards her when she met his eyes.

“You must be Gladiuth.”

“Indeed. I understand your name is Alagariel. It explains where you learned to fight. I once knew your teacher.”

“He remembered you well, sir. He passed away two weeks ago. I have come with something he wanted you to have, as well as to ask your advice on a matter concerning his estate to be brought before the Duke’s court.”

She looked round. Brugor was throwing a bucket of water over the young lord, laughing. Myrthe came up to her and passed her her sword and scabbard. Ala buckled them on and then relieved Myrthe of the bundle with Bernard’s sword. Myrthe whispered into her ear.

“You just kicked the Duke’s grandson in the nuts.”

A flash of worry went through Ala’s mind, before it ebbed away.

“Wish I’d known that a few minutes ago,” she whispered back.

“Only just figured it out. Sorry.”

“Hope I didn’t just mess up the line of succession,” she whispered.

She turned back to Gladiuth with the bundle.

“I expect you will know what this is.”

“Yes, I can guess. I am very honoured. He wanted me to have it?”

“Bernard asked me to bring it to you.”

“This is a fine weapon, an Ulfberht. It is very valuable. Many great nobles would trade their heirs for such a sword. The blade alone would constitute a fine inheritance.”

“I know.”

“It speaks to how highly Bernard thought of you that he would ask you to do this. Will you and your friend join me for a refreshment? I would like to speak of Bernard a little, and perhaps raise a drink in his memory, if you have the time. He was dear to me, as I think he was also to you.”

“I would like that.”

Ala glanced over at Myrthe who didn’t seem to mind and was paying more attention to what was going on with Lord Caerel than to Ala’s conversation with Gladiuth.

“Perhaps afterwards we can practice a little? Your spar with Lord Caerel has left me curious.”

“I’d love to, sir.”

He led them into a building next to what must be the main barracks hall. The room they entered was decorated as an office or study. The walls were covered in weapons of all kinds, including many very exotic and beautiful ones. There were rows upon rows of swords, spears, axes, maces and halberds, weapons of every imaginable sort and many things Ala had never seen before. She marvelled at the display.

“Might I ask what your position is at Peyrepertuse, Master Gladiuth? You don’t appear to be serving with the Duke’s Regiment any longer, unless perhaps you are its commander?”

“I am only a member of the Duke’s Regiment in name. I am the Duke’s Weapons Master. The fighting skills of the soldiers are my responsibility, as well as those of others in the Ducal household and a few other matters.”

“I apologise for humiliating Lord Caerel. I didn’t know who he was. He’s your student. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

Gladiuth smiled.

“It’s good for him. He has been much too cocky lately. He is actually quite good, he routinely bests most of his peers. It’s become difficult to challenge him, which is actually something of a problem. In fact he really ought to have been able to make life more difficult for you than he did. He let the assumption that he could easily win from a girl cloud his judgement. Then he let emotion rule him, leading to that inevitable result.”

“I noticed.”

“I don’t doubt it. Bernard was always a solid teacher.”

Myrthe had kept aside, looking around the endless weapon racks in the room.

She said, “Perhaps I should go see how Caerel is doing, I don’t appear to be much use here and I am a priestess after all. You two are going to spar later? I’ll see you on the practice field, then.”

“Of course, as you wish, priestess,” said Gladiuth.

Myrthe curtsied with practised ease and Gladiuth gave a small bow. She then slipped out the door. Ala thought she was looking mischievous, like she was going to execute some scheme.

When Ala turned back Gladiuth was unpacking Bernard’s sword. He took off his own weapon, which looked exquisite also and hung it on the wall with the others.

“I think, I will wear Bernard’s blade from now on. I was always most impressed by it. You know it is dwarf-work? The very best, by Clan Ulfberht. It is hundreds of years old. The fittings have been renewed and the scabbard of course, probably several times. It is truly a fine weapon. It is valuable beyond belief.”

“Bernard told me about Ulfberht blades. I had appreciated the craftsmanship and I saw the word ‘Ulfberht’ inlaid on the blade, but I have never seen other dwarven work to compare it to. Can I show you something else? I would prefer the details of it not get around however.”

“I swear that I will not speak of it, unless it is in some way vital to the safety of my Lord’s realm.”

“That will be fine.”

She drew her sword and offered it to him to inspect. She kept it a bit out of reach, thinking of the incident in the Thetwick meeting hall. She rotated a little so he could see the pattern. He lifted his hands as if to accept it… then thought better of it as he saw the swirls in the steel. He breathed in sharply.

“Ah… that is special. A true elf blade. Some of the fittings are not in style. Later additions?”

“It was damaged when it came to me.”

“You made the new fittings yourself?”

“Yes I did, with some assistance from the Thetwick blacksmith at the time.”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving the blade. “Where did it come from?”

“I was told it was found near me when I was a child by one of the Duke’s soldiers. It was left with me in Thetwick. The blade had been in a fire or something equally destructive and appeared to be worthless, except for its value as an heirloom.”

“A fire? That is curious. It will have belonged to someone travelling with you, I imagine?”

“I really don’t know. I don’t really have any coherent memories from that time. It’s not unlikely, I suppose.”

“I see. Well, I will tell you what I know of these swords. What you have there is an elf blade. You knew that already, of course. Bernard will have recognised it for what it is?”

“He did, though he did no know many details about them.”

“They are weapons of legend, purported to each be made by a group of five elven smiths and craftsmen, a master blade smith from each of the five elven elements. Cooperation between them produces these blades. The earth elves are responsible for the ore, finding it and treating of it. The fire elves have perfect control over the flames of the forge and the ovens. The water elves manage the cooling and tempering of the blades, the wood elves make the grips and scabbards. The metal elves shape the blade and assist in the making of the ingots. I’m not completely certain of much else, but it’s likely that if you could find a wood elven master craftsman he could restore the grip to the way it should be. Not that there is anything wrong with the fittings, they are very well made, but they are obviously not original.”

“That’s a lot more than anyone has been able to tell me so far. Do all elves have swords like this?”

“No, only the leaders of great and ancient elven families possess them, as far as I know. They’re rare, even among elves.”

It made Ala shiver a bit. A blade like this must be known to someone! It gave her a spark of hope that she might one day solver her own mystery.

Gladiuth continued his explanation as he poured drinks for them from a slender glass bottle, “now, about this specific blade. You see the pattern? They say the swirls increase with age, with the battles its wielders have fought. This is vastly denser than any other elf blade I have seen, and I was allowed to inspect a few in Amahle. The legends say that the pattern grows with every swing the sword makes in anger, the swirls describing every stroke ever made with the blade.”

“The swirls are growing every time I use it?”

“I don’t know if that’s actually true or whether it’s just poetic license. I do have an elf blade in my collection here, it was given to me in safe keeping by an earth elf. It is obviously much younger than this one though. A lot less pattern. To some extent, age or use does appear to have an effect on the pattern if the comparison between that blade and this one is anything to go by. I wouldn’t dare make any claims beyond that observation.”

“Why won’t you handle it?” She asked.

“Elfblades have a reputation about being picky about who wields them unsheathed, or even about who attempts to unsheathe them. It’s just a precaution, but there are stories of enemies of elves being struck down by some sort of discharge of power when they take up their vanquished foe’s blade, or attempt to take it from its rightful wielder. I’m not sure that’s true. I’ve handled the other one in my collection, but it hasn’t been wielded in over a century and the rightful owner conducted a ritual entrusting it to me. He did that even though he said he doesn’t believe in such ‘mythical nonsense’. That was literally how he described it. I have a healthy respect for such legends, there’s usually something behind them, even though it’s often not what you expect it to be.. I wouldn’t dare touch your weapon. That pattern… It must be… thousands of years old.”

“I think it hurt someone trying to take it from me a short while ago in Thetwick.”

“Truly? What happened? I’m most interested to hear the tale,” he said as he passed her a glass.

“Someone tried to take the sword from me. He fell down, clutching his breast… I don’t have any way of explaining what happened unless the man became unwell at the exact moment he attempted to disarm me.”

“That is certainly odd, to say the least. It doesn’t conflict with some of the elven sagas I’ve studied though. What of the man? The one who meant to disarm you?”

“I don’t know. I had to flee. I do not know what became of him… but I’ve seen men die before…”

Gladiuth nodded, “you think it killed him?”

“Yes. But it’s hard to understand why it didn’t it hurt Bernard or me when we handled it?”

Gladiuth looked thoughtful, “I’m mostly guessing now. It hadn’t been wielded for a while then and it wasn’t a complete blade. Bernard was also a man of pure heart, if I ever met one and I’d say very sympathetic to you. Perhaps he was even something of a father figure to you, I’m guessing based on my correspondence with him?”

“That’s a fair description, I suppose.”

“I’d guess that all those things play in to how a blade like this might react. I’m no magician, but I know enough about magic that it is as complex as the people who employ it.”

“But why would the blade accept me?”

“I don’t know you very well, but if your sword is strong enough to kill someone, I am assuming the blade judged you and decided you were acceptable to it. You are an elf, that must make a difference, perhaps even fire elves are somehow preferable to elf blades as the hereditary leaders of elven kind.”

“You think my being a fire elf could make a difference?”

“It’s mostly guesswork, but my guess is that’s what’s important to the elves is important to their blades. It’s even quite possible you are even its rightful wielder by whatever measure the weapons’ magic would make such a judgement. I suppose it would depend on the relationship between you and whoever was wielding it last. I know it may be uneasy, but they may have died wielding it to protect you and… well they may have been related to you. The way the elves do their magic is very… emotional, I’d almost say. If this blade feels it belongs to you, it would make sense for it to be harmless to anyone you care about.”

Ala took it all in, looking at the blade in her hands. Could it really be true? Was this blade wielded by her father or mother who died protecting her? She really couldn’t remember anything about it. She pushed the thought aside and considered the hilt she had so painstakingly made for it.

“You say it should be repaired?”

“It’s all a bit of a guess, cobbled together from pieces of legends and stories. The earth elf who gave me the elf blade I have here, didn’t believe anything of the power I just suggested your blade might have. But then we don’t call them the ‘down-to-earth-elves’ for nothing. There is magic in the world and his view might be just a little too mundane for my taste. Perhaps it was misguided bravado? I will ask him one day, if he still feels the same way. Despite his claims, I must note that he did observe the transferal ritual. He did this even though he claimed not to believe the weapon was more than a lump of steel. Do you have any pieces from the old scabbard and fittings?”

She did, she sort of kept them as a memento. There wasn’t all that much left. She took the small pouch out of her bag.

“Here,” she opened the pouch, and spread the pieces over the table.

Gladiuth didn’t touch these pieces directly either. He grabbed a glass object the like of which she had never seen in Thetwick. She knew it was a magnifying glass though, somehow. He looked over the pieces.

“Ah yes. I thought fire would have been strange. Legend has it that fire elves are friends with fire. We are surely looking at a blade of legend. The fittings and scabbard were destroyed by acid of some sort.”

Ala decided she would keep her talents with fire to herself.

“It’s not impossible that the blade was wielded by a different kind of elf though, mind you. I suppose you know that elves breed true. One of your parents may not have been a Fire Elf.”

“Myrthe explained to me that it worked that way. Would I be prying terribly if I were to ask about your heritage? I used to think I was a half-elf.”

“Did you? How did that happen?”

“I had no elves compare myself to. The first half elf I ever met was about fifty years ago and she was still very young. She never even met her elven father. It was only through collecting stories about half-elves and elves that I realised one day that the rate I aged at was much too slow for me to be a half elf.”

“Bernard didn’t tell you? He must have known.”

“He did know, but never realised that I didn’t. He even sort of forgot about it for several decades. Both he and the woman who took me in over a century ago thought I would be safer if I was thought to be at least half-human by the people of Thetwick.”

“There is some merit to that thought.”

“So, that’s what I was told too. I suppose it never occurred to either one that I might not know myself. Luckily farmers are not too well travelled. They never seemed to figure it out. If anyone else in Thetwick ever knew they kept it to themselves.”

She could see that Gladiuth had been listening intently to everything she had said.

“Well, about me, there’s not all that much to tell. I suppose I must share some of your experiences in growing up, though it will have been much more extreme in your case. The human children reached adulthood a little more than twice or thrice as fast as me. For you, it would be around a factor ten. My mother is an earth-elf, she lives down in Peyrepertuse actually, the alchemist’s quarter. I see her regularly. She says she is four and half centuries old. I am the product of a fling with a dashing officer of the Duke’s Regiment, or so she says. She still speaks of him fondly. I don’t remember him very well, though she claims I met him several times.”

“It sounds wonderful to me.”

“I suppose it would. It wasn’t all great, a half-elf among humans, but generally speaking, it wasn’t all that bad either. My mother has respect here at least and fulfils an important role in Duilhac. She herself was around and her sister came to live with us at one point too, so I had elves in my life. I wasn’t bullied or anything, but my mother did try to keep me among slightly smaller children. The ageing difference was not so great as it was for you, of course.”

“I’ve never actually spoken to another elf. I saw one or two on the street when we entered the city, but I was scared someone was out to plant a crossbow bolt in me, so I didn’t think it was the time to stop and chat. I know a half-elf who lives at the Ford Inn.”

“I’m sure my mother will be happy receive you. It’s possible it’s her you saw on the way in. She runs a shop in the Alchemist’s Quarter together with her older sister, who is a water elf. The sign says \textit{‘Ye Olde Potions Shoppe’}, which she thinks is very funny. It’s some sort of joke that I still don’t completely understand. Her name is Yesme, just tell her you talked to me. I’d be happy to take you there too of course, if you prefer.”

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

“Now what was that about someone wanting to put a crossbow bolt into you?”

“I don’t really wish to burden you with it, Master.”

“Look, I want you to tell me. I have a duty to the Duke and if there’s people planning assassinations, I must learn what I can about it and report it to the Constable, even if that usually comes to nothing. If it’s serious enough, I can tell the Duke himself.”

“It involves the matter that I need to take to the Duke’s court.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“I’m here because Travis Marchmain, Constable of Thetwick forged Bernard’s will or had it done. I should add that it’s not the man’s first act of corruption. The Marchmains have a long history of subterfuge and I’m certain Bernard will have reported it to the Duke in his missives regularly. I brought the matter before the village council after Bernard’s interment. That didn’t go terribly well, but I think I managed to get them to defer judgement until I returned…”

“What do you mean, that it didn’t go terribly well?”

“Travis attempted to invalidate my right to bear arms – that’s when the incident with the man who attempted to disarm me occurred.”

“I see, it explains why you had to flee.”

“Yes. Well, I will now petition the Duke’s Court to check Bernard’s signature on the Ducal warrant against the signature on my copy of the will and on the Scribe’s. I promised Bernard I would handle his estate and make certain it was well cared for.”

“That seems a sensible course,” his mouth curled into a snarl, “I must say, it makes me angry that Bernard’s memory is defiled with this dishonesty.”

“As it does me.”

“Please continue your tale.”

“The Constable, his son and those in league with them have a lot to lose. If their corruption is proven in the Duke’s court, Myrthe tells me the Duke will want to do something about it. That something might put them on the gallows.”

“I am certain it will, if it can be proved well enough. The Duke is very firm when it comes to anything that might undermine his authority. Trying to undermine rightful succession would not sit well with him and if there is a history of corruption, well, I’d be willing to place a wager on the outcome.”

“The Constable’s men also tried to kill me on the way here.”

“If their case is not good, they have a lot to lose. They must be quite desperate to stop you. More so, now that they’ve failed once.”

“Myrthe and I thought they might have ridden ahead of the caravan we were travelling with. She said that they might have put an assassination contract on me with the criminals of Duilhac.”

“I can see why you are worried. I am ashamed to say there are too many people in Duilhac who would do such a thing for money.”

“Myrthe seems to have an idea of what to do. I’m not sure what it is though, she won’t tell me. She’s a crafty one.”

“That young priestess? Really? More to her than meets the eye, is there?”

Ala nodded as Gladiuth continued.

“I’m afraid I can’t really think of much that would help. I have access to the Duke of course, if I need it. It’s going to have to be handled by the Duke’s Court, just like everything else, for the same reason that the Duke will be angry that it happened – the law must be seen to be served. The sessions can’t be moved forward for some reason. It is a matter of the agreement of lordship between the Duke’s ancestors and the burghers of the city.”

“Why exactly is that?”

“It has something to do with fairness, but to be honest, how that was originally envisaged isn’t clear to me. In any event, it was important enough to be included in the city charter. The court dates are immutable.”

“I’m just going to have to wait. I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Sessions are cancelled from time to time if it is important for the Duke to be elsewhere and he doesn’t feel he has a suitable replacement available, but never moved forward. The next one is on First. Other than that, I’d lay low, certainly until the court. Do you have a secure place to stay?”

“I think so.”

“Well. Use it until the court and be on your guard. I will speak to the Duke so that he already knows what is going on. Hopefully he will decide to move the matter forward on the day’s schedule otherwise you’re very likely to have to wait days, sometimes weeks before it’s your turn. Don’t worry though, I’ll bring this to the Duke’s attention. I can’t imagine he won’t find it important.”

“Thank you very much for all your help and explanations, Master Gladiuth.”

“It is my pleasure and honour to be able to help Bernard’s adopted daughter, especially under these circumstances. I owe that man my life at least as many times as he owed his to me.”

“Thank you, nonetheless.”

“You are most welcome. Let us then raise glasses, in memory of my friend and your mentor.”

She nodded and raised the glass, whispering “to Bernard,” as she took a big sip of the liquid. She noticed that her eyes reddened as she did so. The loss was still raw.

“To Bernard indeed!” Gladiuth drank it all in one swallow.

She took her second sip, finishing her drink. She didn’t know what it was but it was clearly potent, as well as delightful.

“What is this?”

“An elven beverage, from the Kingdom of Earth. My mother sometimes manages to acquire it. Bernard was rather partial to it too.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Now, I would still like to spar, if you would consent?”

“I would like that very much.”

She decided she liked Gladiuth a lot. He wasn’t completely the first male she had ever found herself quite actively evaluating as a possibility to bed, but it was a rarity. She didn’t think anyone had ever affected her so. Even with Gabriel it hadn’t been something she was so actively considering. She was a little shocked by herself.

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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.

Duilhac

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

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

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

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

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

“How does that work?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

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

The thin man looked them over then at the document.

“That seems to be in order…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are they right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myrthe appeared to ponder for a moment.

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

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

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

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

On the Road Again

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he’ll actually do that?”

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

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

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

“Very good, I think.”

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

“It is I suppose.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He could have sent someone sooner.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think he’d do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t understand?”

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

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

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

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

Myrthe smiled a little.

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

“Interesting? Messing with assassins is interesting?”

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

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

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

The Constable’s Cronies

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

“Myrthe?”

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They kept coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay… okay… I’m going…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ala shook her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It bothered me for a very long time.”

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

“So Bernard always said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s good news… isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long have you been up?”

“A few hours.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, we can try it can’t we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myrthe smiled at that.

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

“What happened?”

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

“Like how long?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t think I have.”

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

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

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

“Sounds like an ugly time.”

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

“Very thorough.”

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

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

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

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

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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 New Friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Err… I don’t know?” Ala tried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ‘think’ you are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Breed true? What does that mean?”

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

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

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

“Fire is cursed?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Dwarves can really feel the earth?”

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

“Sorry. Please continue.”

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

“I want to know all you can tell me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really? I never knew.”

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

“Just uneasy?”

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

“I can see that happening in Thetwick.”

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

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

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

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

Myrthe’s mouth opened in shock.

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

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

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

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

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

“I wish I knew who my parents were.”

“You have no idea?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Before you did?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s the Constable of Thetwick.”

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

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

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

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

“A murderer?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He sent men after you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myrthe’s attitude appealed to Ala.

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

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

“Physical compassion? What does that mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You must be quite the equestrian then.”

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

“You speak elven then?”

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

“Oh, sorry. Do go on.”

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

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

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

“Harald?”

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

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

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

“And how old is this Harald?”

“Somewhere in his forties, I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Priestess’ Sojourn

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me, Master?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m headed to Peyrepertuse.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I said, be on…”

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

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

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

“Thirty silver coins. Good ones.”

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

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

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

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

“Hello priestess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s a Sojourn?”

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

“Apparently not in the Westmarch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Could I ask you something?”

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

“Please do.”

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

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

The young woman seemed genuine and endlessly sincere.

“Thank you, Priestess.”

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

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.

Chapter 4: Beyond the Westmarch

An excerpt from the Visitor’s Guide to Taladaria, by Cyrus Sardinus, circa 950.

The Barony of Sheffield

On the Western edge of Taladaria, where it borders the Westmarch is an untamed land, the Barony of Sheffield. While more populous than the Westmarch, it is a place of small rural settlements that are largely self sufficient. While the Baron does make an effort to uphold the peace and the Duke’s Regiment does patrol the caravan routes, the reach of the law often fails to extend to its more remote communities. As a consequence, people sometimes take matters into their own hands and results can be somewhat mixed. On the western side of the fief commerce is conducted my means of the Barony’s roads as the only place where the Iceflow river can comfortably be approached is near the Ford Inn, where river traffic is impossible for most of the year. The Baron holds court at Pearson which is not the largest town. There is, however, a great crossroads and one of those roads leads to the walled river town Caubiac, on the fief’s eastern border, river barges can reach it both from Peyrepertuse to the southeast and northwest to Doncastle, Citadel Howle and of course Port Mistral. From what I learned, I would expect Caubiac’s vastly superior location to Pearson to play an increasingly important role in the fief and it would not surprise me if the Baron elects to move his seat there before long.

Aside from being accosted by highwaymen or bandits on three distinct occasions, my path through the County was largely uneventful. The people have little reason to trust strangers and are insular and focused on their own daily hardships. I would not recommend the Barony as a destination. Pearson is a fortress town and the only settlement that is reputed to be aesthetically pleasing and prosperous is Caubiac though I did not visit it myself. I made the decision to continue my travels rather that risk being waylaid once more.

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