War Of The Wildlands(10)

“Reylana,” he called, motioning for his sister to come closer.

She approached him and stood silently, waiting to see what he had to say.

“You’re not going to scold me like Essa did, are you?”

“No, I’m not. I don’t agree with what you did, but I understand your reasons.” She swallowed, looked away, and added, “I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

“It is this way, Sis,” he said. “Our only chance is to join forces with all of the remaining clans on this side of the river. We’re all in danger, and we should work together.”

“Agreed,” she replied.

“Well?” he asked.

“Well what?” she said, puzzled.

“You have a big mouth. You could go and talk to the other clans.” He took a sip of ale and grinned at her.

“Why don’t you go? If they say no, you can beat them into submission.”

“If only it were that easy,” he replied with a mock sigh. “Seriously, I’m needed here. These guys need a leader who isn’t afraid to make hard decisions. You’re prettier and more persuasive than me. You should go.”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she said.

“Just tell them we should all join up and see what they say. Obviously it’s a good idea. If they say no, they’re traitors to our entire race.” His voice became more and more angry as he spoke.

Reylana stared at him for a second. “I guess I could try. Essa’s pretty pissed, so I probably won’t be going into any battles for a while anyway.”

“No battles under her command,” Reylin pointed out. “She isn’t your boss, and this is a war. We do what we have to, which includes putting new leaders in place. You can lead the sword maidens when you return.”

“Thanks, but no,” she replied, shaking her head. The last thing she wanted was a command. It was too much pressure, and she didn’t like screaming orders at people who were only half listening. Wild Elves are free spirits and do not follow orders in the same fashion as humans. Human soldiers are highly disciplined and do not think for themselves. A Wild Elf fighting in the forest has to use his own wits, even if it means disobeying his commander.

“You don’t have to go at once,” Reylin said. “We barely have enough people to defend the village as it is. After today, we can expect Domren and his goons to come after us.”





Chapter 7




Mi’tal waited patiently at the inn for the prince to arrive. Frequently, the prince would meet him here for lunch rather than eating at the palace with his father. His father only talked about military strategy, but Aelryk preferred the relaxed nature of the inn. Mi’tal admired the prince’s desire to be near regular people, even though his father preferred to stay as far as possible from the common man.

Mi’tal himself could fit in anywhere. He was a nobleman, but he lacked the arrogance that often came along with a title. He was taller than most other men and had a hefty warrior’s build which gave him the appearance of a soldier rather than a noble. The inn suited him just fine.

As Aelryk entered the inn, few people took notice. He was tall and handsome with dark hair and eyes, and the ladies rarely ignored him. Today, however, only Mi’tal seemed to be interested in his arrival. He raised his mug and nodded as the prince took a seat across from him.

“An ale, please,” Aelryk said to the young serving girl who was passing by. She abruptly stopped in her tracks and turned to obey the prince’s command.

“There was an attack on a farming village in the south,” Aelryk began. “Father wants swift, immediate retaliation.” His ale arrived, and he handed the girl a silver coin. She stared at him a little longer than would be considered polite, and her face began to blush. He gave her a broad smile before she went back to her work.

“Do you know which clan was responsible?” Mi’tal asked.

“Does it matter?” Aelryk replied. “He wants them all killed, and he doesn’t care who we attack in response to the massacre. None of those citizens were armed.”

“Personally, I’d prefer to find the ones responsible,” Mi’tal commented. “I don’t like senseless killing. Surely we can live beside some of those clans in peace.”

“I agree,” the prince said, sipping at his ale. “I spoke with one of the lieutenants who was at the scene shortly after the attack. They had runed arrows that set fire to the homes there. That would suggest the Sycamore Clan, but we can’t be sure. They could have crafted the arrows for any other clan.”

“Which clan lives closest to the site of the attack?” Mi’tal asked.