Reylana stared at him dumbfounded. “Did you become Overseer through cowardice?”
“Careful, Sister,” he said. “Your list of friends here is short. You may stay as long as you need, and our healer will be happy to tend to your injury. Darin has already agreed to assist you, and I hope you will consider that enough for the time being.”
As quickly as it had begun, the meeting came to an end. The elves dispersed and went about their business. Nat approached Reylana once the crowd was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There are some of us who would gladly join you in battle. I will speak to them and see if the Overseer would object to a small group of us coming with you. We have enough warriors to protect the village if only half of us join the war.”
“Thank you, Nat,” she said, tears spilling from her eyes. She had come all this way and failed. Her brother had trusted her with one important task, and she had been unable to complete it. The runed weapons would certainly help, but who would be left to wield them? Too many of her kinsmen had already died, and she wanted no more of the war. She wished she could be complacent like the members of the Sycamore Clan. If only she could pretend that the war was not her problem, then she could live on in peace and ignorance.
Unfortunately, she could not dismiss the facts and pretend there was no war. Once she was healed, she would return to her clan and continue to fight. To do anything less would be unimaginable. She was still a warrior, and she would continue the fight, even if it meant her death and the deaths of those she loved.
Chapter 20
“We’ll be at Al’marr by midday,” Atti said as he and Yori continued along the road. “One time I took a ship out of Al’marr and went all the way to the Sunswept Isles. Beautiful place, that is. Those elves aren’t friendly though. They hate everybody who isn’t them, and I bet they hate each other too.”
“What did you do there?” Yori asked curiously. He had heard very little of the Sunswept Isles, and he had never met anyone who had been there.
“Well, they have this big college there where they teach magic. They need all kinds of supplies, and I thought I’d make a fortune by selling gems over there. They use them in their magic, and supposedly they’re highly prized.”
“Let me guess,” Yori said. “You didn’t make a fortune.” He grinned at the old man.
Atti laughed and said, “No, I didn’t. Those elves act like nothing a human merchant brings is ever good enough. They nitpick and try to cheat you on the prices. I didn’t bother trying to sell them any other goods since they buy most everything else from Ral’nassa. That place is full of more uppity elves, but I guess they like them better than us humans.”
“Do you know what they do with the gems?”
“Not really. I’ve heard they have lots of different uses in magic. I’ve seen swords that have special gems set in them that supposedly contain magical powers. I’ve never met a smith in Na’zora or Al’marr that could do such a thing. I suppose you have to go to the Sunswept Isles or Ral’nassa for that. Assuming you can stand those uppity bastards long enough to learn anything. I got out of there after only two days, and I don’t plan to ever visit Ral’nassa. I can’t imagine those elves being any more welcoming.”
Yori wondered how the Enlightened Elves of the islands could be so different from the Wild Elves. If the old legends were correct, they all came from the same place originally. The First Ones, or Westerling Elves as they were now referred to, had given rise to both the Woodland Elves and the Island Elves. The two groups had followed different paths: one worshiping nature, and the other lusting for magical power.
The two continued along the road as the early winter sun tried its best to warm the sky. The chill in the air showed no signs of bending to the sun’s will and continued to steal the heat from every warm body it encountered. The wind joined in the game, multiplying the chill as it danced across the road.
Finally, a border town came into sight. Yori could hear voices shouting in the distance, and the smell of freshly roasted meat wafted on the breeze.
“That’s the biggest market town on the northern border of Al’marr,” Atti said. “They call it Marrel. Don’t confuse that with the port city in the south called Marron. I wonder whose silly idea it was to name them so close to the same thing.”
“Is Marron where you took the ship to the islands?”
“Yes it was,” he replied. “You thinking about going there?”
“Maybe someday,” Yori said, shrugging.