Tag: The Half-Elven Orphan

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

A Night in and Out of Gaol

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

“Hey there.”

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

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

“Relax, guardsman,” she said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is no place for Ladies…”

“We insist,” Ala said quietly.

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

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

“Thank you Captain.”

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

“So we spend a night in gaol.”

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where were we?”

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

“So a live sword was involved?”

Ala couldn’t help but smile and blush.

“You’re incorrigible, Myr!”

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

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

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

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

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

“No! Of course not!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

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

Ala was silent for a moment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An elf, no doubt.”

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

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

“I suppose that would be best…”

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

“Myrthe, there’s something very wrong.”

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

“He’s dead.”

She smelt the cup he had been drinking from.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I… ehh… daggers… are more my thing…”

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

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

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

“What do you have in mind Ala?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes Captain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cook, I assume you are the cook?”

The woman nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Introduction to Elvenkind

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

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

“Hullo Georgina. Are they in?”

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

“Uhm, I take it the bear is a pet?”

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

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

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

“Upstairs huh? Thanks.”

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

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

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

The voice came from upstairs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yesme smiled, also continuing in elven.

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that unusual?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Truly? Are fire elves that rare?”

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

“It’s certainly… heartening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Elves have a different calendar?”

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

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

Yesme nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“I think only elves could call that recent.”

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

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

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

“Their nature? What do you mean.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here then, I have one.”

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

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

“You see?”

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

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

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

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

“Demons?”

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

“What would normal be?”

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

“You don’t think thy exist?”

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

“A secret? Why is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They sort of retire from the world?”

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

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

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

“Finally,” she said.

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

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

“Very much so, thank you.”

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

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

“What is, Gladiuth?” Yesme asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should show them your sword.”

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

“Show them,” he repeated.

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

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

Ala explained all she knew about it.

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

“Yes, that seems right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revanche

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

“May I join you, Master Gladiuth?”

“Of course Lady Alagariel.”

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

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

She stepped into the ring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How long were we busy?”

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

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

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

“As it was for me. Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? No. You’ve done it before!”

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

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

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

“Like this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Duke smiled at her.

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace.”

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

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

“Like this?”

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

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

“What did the Duke mean by the fire?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Law and Order

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

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

“That’s a lot of ruffians.”

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

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

Ala felt rather than saw Myrthe’s look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myrthe looked amused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, I know. Let’s go.”

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

“Excuse us,” said Ala.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kill her!” Magnus commanded the men.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

There was no trace of Magnus.

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

She turned back to Matt.

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

“I don’t feel anything yet.”

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

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

Brugor looked around.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very observant, Lady Alagariel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can’t just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After looking around dazed, he opened his mouth.

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

Myrthe opened her eyes and smiled at him.

“Yes, you could call it that.”

“I’ve never felt anything like that.”

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

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

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

Myrthe nodded, displeased but accepting it.

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

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

Brugor smiled, gesturing to Abe with his head.

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

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

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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.

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.

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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