Yaederrí.
That was the only word the female elves spoke to her, still avoiding her gaze as much as possible. No matter how many times she asked, about what it meant, about the mission, about anything, she never got a reply. They didn’t speak her language. Either that or they were really good at ignoring her.
Claire yawned as she pulled on a soft purple over-shirt. The servants came early in the morning with a pile of folded clothes and, to her surprise, her mother’s dagger sat neatly on top. She didn’t remember what had happened to it that night. The events already started to blur together.
The elves waited in the little sitting room after she refused their help getting dressed. It really wasn’t that hard of a task. She tied the purple shirt on the side just above her hip. The neck plunged down into a V-shape to reveal a snug black undershirt. The fabric was thin, almost transparent and form fitting. The sleeves reached her elbow with ties on the cuffs. She pulled on a pair of knee high, dark brown leather boots over snug black slacks and sat on the floor to tie the laces.
Claire grabbed the dagger sitting on the bed and drew it from the simple leather sheath. The blade looked new and polished. The elves must have done that. A weak smile crossed her lips as she examined the knife. Her stomach was full of butterflies, both excited and terrified for the upcoming journey. She didn’t know what awaited her or what the elves wanted with her, they hadn’t revealed anything more about the mission. She was just eager for the chance to search for her mother. And get out of this cage. She snapped the dagger back into its sheath and slipped the belt around her waist.
If only she had stayed with her mother, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She would know that her mother was safe. She would not run away anymore. A fiery surge of confidence swept through her. She had to become stronger, more courageous. Marion had a strong fighting spirit, her strength and confidence tamed the toughest of foes, overcoming any obstacle. She had been well respected, and a little feared, in Stockton.
“I’ll make you proud, mom,” Claire muttered before she faced the servants.
Hushed whispers floated on the cool morning air as Claire stepped through the large mahogany doors. Elves filled the square. Claire scanned the crowd with wide eyes, her pulse quickened, shocked by the strange reception. Guards held back the mass to form a walkway to the center. The two servants stayed by the doors and bowed their heads as she took an unsteady step down the stairs, her legs turning to jelly. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. Why had they gathered there? Did it have to do with her mission? If so, did they know more about it than she did?
The King stood imposingly in front of the fountain in the center of the plaza. His red and purple robes swept down to the ground. Aeron stood next to the King in a similar outfit as the day before: deep blue shirt, brown slacks and black boots. A sword handle peeked up above his left shoulder, a bow and arrows above the right. Farron stood next to him. His appearance was intimidating and a complete transformation from what he wore before. The stark black of his clothes contrasted sharply against his pale skin and silvery hair. Black fingerless gloves wrapped up his forearms while black leather straps crossed over his short-sleeved black shirt. Silver hilts glinted past each shoulder, the top of a bow and arrows over his right. They weren’t expecting a fight, were they?
Claire knelt down onto one knee before the King, figuring that was what she was supposed to do in this sort of situation. Though she could’ve just made a fool of herself in front of the entire Elvin population.
The King motioned for her to rise, grabbed her right arm, and lifted it up, showcasing the mark for the crowd to see. He spoke in that smooth rolling language he used the day before, his deep voice ringing through the plaza. Claire scanned the mass of elves as they gasped and whispered among themselves. What was she to these people? She had promised not to ask questions, but curiosity welled up inside of her. She would have to wait until later. Maybe if she could get one of the elves alone…
The King let go of her arm, interrupting her thought and sending her stumbling. Aeron caught her before she could hit the ground and helped steady her on her feet. He bowed to the King, exchanged a few words and straightened up again.
The crowd parted on the other side of the fountain and formed a path to an archway across the plaza. Aeron grabbed her by the arm and started to walk. A wide smile was plastered on his face, a little too tight around the edges. Farron trailed behind, his face solemn and somewhat embarrassed. Claire remained in awe.
She examined the tall buildings as they made their way down a winding cobblestone avenue. The two, three, and sometimes even four-storied structures were mismatched and tightly packed together. They jutted out over the narrow street in places, forming archways and bridges. It was as if they had run out of room to spread out and instead started to build up.
Elves stopped what they were doing to gawk at her as she passed, whispering the same yaederrí word as the servants had.
“What does that mean?” she asked Aeron.
“Little hope,” he told her, his smile faltering a bit.
Little? She threw a glare at a pair of elves. Who were they calling little?
They passed under another stone archway and over a wooden drawbridge that spanned a deep rift in the earth. Aeron released her arm as they stepped onto a dirt path that led into the forest. He sighed and rubbed his cheeks with his hands as the fake smile disappeared.
She wanted to ask, about the reception, about the mission, about everything, but it was probably too soon.
Farron walked ahead into the forest without saying a word.
“This way my lady.” Aeron gave her a kind look as he motioned to the path.
Claire walked quietly between the two elves as they made their way through the forest. They crossed wood plank bridges spanning creeks and rivers and climbed down ancient looking stairs carved into the rock. Even in the light this forest seemed odd, felt odd. There was a sense of history about it, almost as if the trees had been there since the beginning of time itself. But what the forest had in beauty, it lacked in life. She spotted very little wildlife on their journey so far.
The two elves remained silent. She noticed that they carried small packs on their backs over their weaponry and wondered why she didn’t have one. Maybe she’d left it behind? She hoped it wasn’t too important if she had.
“Tell me more about the elves,” Claire said, tired of the silence.
“What would you like to know, my lady?” Aeron asked.
She jumped, startled by his sudden closeness. “Have you two always lived in the forest?”
He just laughed.
“I mean, if you’ve been in the forest for all these years, how come I’ve never seen any of you before? Are you afraid of humans? Is that why the forest is forbidden?” she muttered the last one to herself.
“It seems my lady leads quite a sheltered life.” He looked amused.
“Perhaps,” Claire replied and looked down at her feet. “Mother was always a little over protective.”
“Well, if you must know then,” Aeron began, taking a deep breath as he crossed his arms, “we have lived in this forest since the Great War. No, we are not afraid of humans. And His Majesty forbids any unknown entity— especially humans— from entering the forest. You are actually quite lucky Farron spotted that mark on your hand. Our scouts are ordered to shoot any intruders.”
Claire’s face flushed and she looked at Farron, who walked several paces ahead. So, he was the one who saved her that night. Would he have let that arrow hit her if the strange mark hadn’t shown up? The thought made her stomach churn. Was that what her mother had meant by her comment that night? And if that was true, then her mother must have known about the mark all along. And about the elves. If she knew, why hadn’t she told her? Her head began to hurt. Each question only led to more questions. She shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind. There’s no way Mother would have kept a secret like this from her.
“What was that you said
before, about a Great War?” she asked.
“I charge for history lessons, you know,” he answered with a sly grin.
“Oh really.” She smiled back. “Then I’ll just have to go ask our silent friend up there.” She nodded her head toward Farron.
“Good luck with that!” Aeron chuckled. “I was sure everyone knew about the Great War. You have got a lot of catching up to do. Why don’t we talk about something more exciting instead?”
“Like what?”
“Like me!”
Claire laughed. She hoped he was joking.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed in the thick forest; the light didn’t seem to change as it filtered in through the high treetops. Aeron had been rambling on about some old army tales and about his promotion to Captain of the King’s Guard.
Guess he hadn’t been joking after all.
She stopped listening halfway through, nodding along every now and then to be polite. Meanwhile, she studied the still silent elf that walked in front of them. She would have to thank him later, although she didn’t really know if being captured would be something to thank someone for. But at least it was better than being at the mercy of a crazed centaur.
Light caught her eye in the distance then. There! The edge of the forest! Claire rushed past Farron, her feet seemingly moving on their own, and ran toward the glaring light. She emerged from the sea of trees and out onto the grassy field, her eyes narrowing at the sudden brightness of the sun, high in a cloudless sky.
Stockton stood to the south like a lifeless, almost ominous, beacon on the horizon. A trail of light gray smoke cut through the blue sky from the center of town. The tall grass of the field stretched out before them and swayed gently in the breeze, just like it had on that horrible night. Claire’s stomach dropped. What exactly did she expect to find there?
A hand clamped down on her shoulder when she moved forward. She froze mid-step, goose bumps racing up her spine.
“Wait.” Farron’s eyes narrowed as he examined the town. “Stay between us.”
With bow at the ready, Farron walked toward Stockton, tense and alert. She followed close behind. Aeron brought up the rear, his bow drawn as he watched the field behind them.
They approached the north end of town that bordered the field and dipped into a narrow alley. Claire stepped carefully over the debris that littered the streets. The putrid air burned through her lungs, unsettling her stomach. It looked different during the day; the damage that had been done was all the more apparent in the bright light. The streets and buildings lay empty, devoid of life. It was eerie, and sad, and she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see any more.
Farron stopped at the end of the alley at the corner. He looked up and down the street, waiting for Claire to catch up.
“Which way?” He kept his voice low.
She pointed south along the street, her other hand covering her nose and mouth. Her spirit sank as she walked down the once bustling street, now in ruins. The buildings’ contents were strewn out onto the road. It was a nightmare come to life. How could they do this to such a peaceful town?
“This way,” she whispered and ducked into another alley, away from the elves.
The shortcuts she’d taken dozens of times before seemed foreign to her now. She swiftly crossed another street and jumped over a broken crate of rotten vegetables. She picked up her speed, anxious to find her mother’s tavern, her home. Was it still intact? She passed by the burned out shell of her favorite spice store and hoped Mrs. Tallum got out of town safely. The two elves struggled to keep up as she made her way through the twisting streets and back alleys.
She stopped abruptly when she reached the marketplace where the defense squadron fought so bravely that night. A pile of bodies lay in the center of the open plaza. Smoke rose from the bottom. Her breath caught in her throat, her body stiffened in place. Two large, rough looking centaurs stacked broken furniture and wreckage on top of the corpses. Smiles decorated their faces as they talked casually, their language as harsh as their appearance. The scene burned itself into her memory, sure to come back and haunt her dreams.
A hand covered her mouth then, while another slipped around her waist and pulled her back into the alley. She looked up and Farron put a finger to his lips to signal for her to keep quiet. He released her and she collapsed against a building and leaned her forehead against the brick wall. She took deep breaths to calm the nausea rising in her stomach.
Aeron appeared at the end of the alley and motioned to them.
“This place is crawling with ‘em,” Aeron said in a hushed voice as they approached. “We should leave.”
“Not yet,” Claire uttered her, voice breathy. “She might have left some sort of clue or note where she went.” She raised her chin, looking him in the eye. “I’m not leaving yet. We had a deal.”
“Fine,” he sighed. “Is there another way?”
“Yes.” She started down the street that ran parallel to the plaza.
“Hold it.” Farron grabbed her arm. “Stay between us this time.”
He crouched low and stepped lightly along the wall, stopped at the corner and looked both ways. Claire and Aeron followed. She whispered directions to him at each corner. The rough voices of the beasts echoed from the plaza through the streets. The scent of burnt flesh drifted through the air.
Her stomach wrenched as familiar faces flashed through her mind. She recognized the men in that pile; defense squad members that had died protecting the town. But she refused to believe her mother accompanied the miserable corpses. Claire took a deep breath. She had to remain strong; she couldn’t lose it now.
The once proud bustling tavern stood empty and lifeless. Glass shards still clung to the window frames. The sign that had once swung above the door lay on the ground, covered in dirt. The Blazing Stallion was her mother’s pride and joy, and the only tavern in town owned and operated by a woman. Curious travelers came to marvel at the tavern and the fiery woman who ran it. But not anymore.
She pushed against the heavy wooden door that led into the tavern, but it was locked. She hurried around the back and glanced in the windows. With no intruders in sight, she pushed open the door to the kitchen. Farron followed close behind, bow and arrow in hand while Aeron kept watch outside.
Broken dish shards and glass crunched under foot as she entered the small kitchen. Debris littered the counter tops, jars full of spices and herbs lay on the floor, their contents dusted across the room. Claire rushed up the stairs, her steps ringing loud through the empty house.
Her room was untouched. Perhaps the big brutes couldn’t fit up the narrow stairs. Her hands shook as she searched the room. Nothing. She ran across the hall to her mother’s. The modest room was neat and tidy, everything still in its place. Just the way Mother liked it.
Her shoulders slumped as the search yielded no results. She walked across the room to a dresser and ran her fingers across a delicate jewelry box, tracing the bumps and lines of the flower carved into the wood. Memories of when she was a child came flooding back. Mother would always scold her when she found her digging through her jewelry box, trying on the colorful baubles and dangling earrings. She’d always yearned to look like the fine ladies that came through town in their fancy carriages, but never owned any jewelry herself. Her wages usually went to more practical things.
The contents glittered in the light as she lifted the lid. Her fingers dug through the jumbled mess, half expecting her mother’s scolding to begin. The bracelet had always been her favorite, an exotic piece acquired on one of Mother’s many adventures before she opened the tavern— adventures she never liked to talk too much about. She pulled the familiar shape from the box. The bracelet’s chain was rounded and formed the shape of a snake; the silver worn with age and use. The head served as a clasp, swallowing its own tail. Its eyes sparked red with tiny rubies. The piece was as mysterious as its origin. But perhaps that was why she had always liked it.
“Anything?”
<
br /> She jumped, dropping the bracelet on the dresser.
“No.” Her voice was heavy with disappointment. She picked up the bracelet, put it around her left wrist and played with the clasp.
Farron walked over and set his bow on the dresser to help her fasten it. “We should get going then.” He glanced out the window.
“Thank you,” Claire said. It was strange. Although he had been mostly quiet on their journey so far, something was different about him. He didn’t seem like the other elves in the forest— and not just because of his looks. But his whole demeanor was different, the way he talked, dressed, carried himself.
He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
She meant to thank him for not shooting her that night she had entered the forest and for agreeing to help her find her mother, but she didn’t exactly know how to thank someone for not killing her.
A loud howl broke through the silence.
“Time’s up,” Farron said, snatching up his bow and her arm, then pulled her toward the door.
They flew down the stairs and out the door into the alley where Aeron waited with an urgent look on his face. The three of them ran south, away from the thunder of hooves. Farron dragged Claire along, his hand gripping her wrist tightly, her feet barely able to keep up with his demanding pace.
One of the beasts appeared at the end of the alley they were halfway down, blocking their escape. He brandished a spear covered in dried blood, a sneer forming on his thick brow.
Farron stopped abruptly and Claire crashed into him. Aeron drew his bow and swiftly let off an arrow. It struck the centaur in the shoulder, but he stood his ground. He let out a deep laugh as he pulled the arrow from his shoulder and cast it aside. Blood streamed down his arm from the gaping wound.
A snort from behind drew Claire’s attention to the other end of the alley. A second centaur appeared, his face twisted into a snarl.
They were trapped.
Farron drew an arrow and aimed at the creature while Aeron focused on the other.
Claire stood in the middle of the two elves, her head snapping back and forth between the beasts. She was helpless. Without any training she would be useless in a fight. A sense of guilt mingled with her fear. She hoped that the elves didn’t get hurt or die. There was no reason anyone else should have to risk their lives to protect her.
The second beast charged toward them and drew a curved sword, the metal of the blade glinting in the sunlight.
Claire’s heart pounded in her chest. She drew her dagger with shaking hands and held it up before her in a vain attempt at defense.
Farron remained calm as he aimed, feet unmoving.
The centaur raised his blade high above his head ready to strike.
In one swift motion, the elf released the arrow. It struck the brute in the eye, sinking deep into his skull and the great beast tumbled in a lifeless heap at their feet.
“This way,” Farron shouted and grabbed Claire by the arm once again.
They leapt over the mass of muscle and flesh and sprinted back down the alleyway. The one at the other end howled as he charged after them. They turned the corner onto the street, Aeron lagging behind followed by the rumble of hooves on dirt.
Claire glanced back at the beast. His face was clear with rage as he drew the spear up above his shoulder.
“Look out!” she shrieked.
Farron quickly dodged to the right and the spear soared past them. The tip slammed into the dirt in front of them with a heavy thud. He let go of her arm and she stumbled to the ground. He drew two arrows at once as he spun around in one fluid motion, taking quick aim before shooting. The centaur doubled over as he gripped the arrows lodged into his chest. Dark blood flowed through his fingers and down his torso as he yelled after them in his harsh native tongue.
Farron grabbed Claire again, pulling her to her feet and down another backstreet. They ran south toward the crop fields, Claire’s feet barely touching the ground. Aeron trailed close behind, bow still in hand. Deep shouts followed them through the streets and narrow passages.
They crossed one of the wheat fields and plunged into the bordering forest. The forest grew thick, vines and brush scraped Claire’s legs as they hurtled their way through the trees. Her chest grew heavy with exertion, and the pain in her side spread, sending sharp spikes through her ribs.
“Wait!” she cried as she gasped for air.
Farron slowed his pace before releasing her arm. She hunched over as she tried to catch her breath and glanced up at the two elves who seemed barely winded. She rolled her eyes and sheathed her blade.
“Give me a break,” she muttered between gasps.
Her chest heaved furiously. A mixture of fear and excitement sent a slight tremble through her body. Of course, they would be in good shape. She cursed herself for not exercising more. The work at the tavern usually wore her out and kept her figure slim. But since running for her life seemed to be a rather common occurrence lately, she thought about practicing for it. Sprinting and running. She sighed heavily, her shoulders slumping. Just thinking about it wore her out even more.
“I could carry you, my lady.” Aeron offered with arms spread out wide, grinning.
“I’ll manage.” Claire stood up straight. She held onto her side as her breathing began to slow.
Shouts from the town faded into the distance as they continued deeper into the forest. This one was different from the forest to the north. Vegetation grew rampantly and small animals scurried away as they approached. It seemed full of life, unlike the eerie calm of the Elvin domain.
The trio remained quiet as they hiked through the trees for what seemed like hours. Her legs carried her forward tirelessly, as if they had a mind of their own, away from her home. Tears stung at her eyes, always on the verge of spilling over. Random thoughts played through her mind as she tried to keep from thinking about the ruined town and the faces of the dead. She couldn’t change what had happened, couldn’t even control her own fate.
“We will rest here for the night,” Aeron declared as they entered a small clearing.
The sun had begun to set and dusk crept through the trees, accompanied by a chill breeze. Claire collapsed in the center of the clearing onto soft grass. Her body felt sore. So much abuse in such a short time took its toll.
“I will patrol the area. Farron, you get some rest as well.” Aeron set his pack near Claire before he disappeared into the trees.
Claire’s eyelids grew heavy, fast. She gave up trying to fend away the horrifying memories and visions and they came crashing down on her, flooding her mind. She turned over on the grass, curled into a ball and wrapped her arms around her knees. The weight of the memories was suffocating. Tears slid down her cheek as she began to weep quietly. Exhaustion eventually swept through her, pulling her down into the comforting dark depths of sleep.
Soft voices interrupted her dreams. Warm heat caressed her back. She listened to the muttered conversation for a moment before she opened her eyes. The two elves were talking in that pretty language of theirs. She sat up and an itchy woolen blanket that covered her fell to her lap. The elves stopped their conversation and looked at her from across a little campfire. She wondered what they were talking about as she rubbed her eyes, sore and swollen from crying.
“Good evening, my lady,” Aeron said. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for some sort of reply.
Claire felt numb. Her body and spirit were tired, crushed. Visions of the earlier events had plagued her dreams. She’d tried to keep them away, but they leaked in whenever she let down her guard. It was exhausting.
She stared into the fire, the wool blanket wrapped around her. The orange glow was mesmerizing. She refused to believe that her mother was still in that town. She couldn’t be. She had to remain strong, to have hope. But, what would she do if she never found her mother? The few friends that she had most likely fled with the rest of the townspeople. Or at least she hoped they had. The town was lost now, seized by the savages. T
here was no going back. Not to the way things were before. The thought made her stomach sink as it finally dawned on her. She would have to start a new life, find a new home and a way to survive. Nausea swept through her, the stress twisting her stomach into knots. All this time she had thought that she could return to her old life as if nothing had ever happened, but that was foolish. To be suddenly thrust out of her normal life into an unfamiliar world all alone was too much for her to handle. Perhaps she was too sheltered.
“I’m sure she got out.”
Farron’s voice stirred her from her thoughts. She looked across the fire at him. He sat atop a log and inspected an arrow closely. Aeron sat across from him, his hands busy with a knife as he carved at a stick.
“I’m sure she did too.” Her voice was soft. “It’s just—” She struggled to find the words that explained how she felt. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I’ve lost my home, my only family, my friends, my job. I don’t know where I should go. I can’t go back to Stockton and I can’t go to where my mother is because I don’t know where she is. I have this weird mark on my hand and you two won’t tell me where we’re going or what you want from me. I’m stressed, I’m tired and I’m scared.”
She took a deep breath, feeling a little better after getting some of her thoughts off her chest. The two elves remained silent, looking a little uncomfortable. She hadn’t meant to take it out on them. After all, they had saved her life and treated her well ever since she’d entered the forest, although that could have something to do with the strange mark.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m not blaming you. I should be thanking you two.”
“Do not worry about it, mon lainí,” Aeron said. “Here, eat this.” He tossed a small wrapped object to her across the fire. “We will set out for Lendon in the morning. It is a human city. They might have fled there for shelter.”
She’d heard of Lendon before, seen it on maps a couple times. Travelers and merchants would usually rest in Stockton before or after their stop there. It was, she’d heard, a city and a kingdom unto itself. Slowly its reach would expand as small villages and towns came under its rule, joining of their own volition. An offer the citizens of Stockton have refused many times over the years. Though the ruler, King Harold was thought of as being just and peaceful, the people of Stockton had their own way of doing things, and were not so willing to give up their freedoms so easily.
She unwrapped the object that Aeron tossed to her. It was a loaf of bread.
She had never been out of her hometown before and the thought of seeing a foreign place lifted her spirits some. Aeron was right. There could be some survivors in Lendon. If anything, it was a ray of hope and a much needed distraction from her own mind.
“Try not to worry too much. What happened is in the past. Take one step at a time or else you will feel overwhelmed. We will make sure that nothing happens to you,” Aeron said.
She thought about Aeron’s words. He was right. There was no point in worrying about the past. She had to move forward, to come up with a plan. For now, she would go along with the elves and worry about where to go after they were done with their mission. She closed her eyes and summoned her mother’s strength. She didn’t have time to sit around and mope. Mother had taught her better than that. She should make the best out of the situation, put the past aside for now and look forward. It was a good opportunity to see the world and discover new places. A dim flame lit inside of her, giving her a much-needed surge of confidence. She couldn’t forget what had happened to her, but she could channel her sorrow into something more productive than sulking.