War Of The Wildlands(62)

“We’ve gained a few friends,” he said with a grin.

As the army of elves came into view, Reylana’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ve got about twelve hundred friends here,” Reylin said. “How many did you bring again?” He chuckled and looked back over his shoulder at the Sycamore warriors. “Only about four or five hundred, I’m guessing. Looks like I win.”

“I didn’t know it was a contest,” she replied, still staring at the army. Never before had she seen such a gathering of elves. The elves of the Wildlands usually kept to their own clans and had no need for each other. It amazed her to see so many come together.

“I’m still hoping some clans across the river will join us. We haven’t heard anything from them yet.”

“I couldn’t convince the rune carver,” Reylana said, the disappointment clear in her voice.

“No worries,” he replied with a smile. “I’ve found one of those myself. The Mountain Clan has a rune carver, and he’s been very busy.” He held his head high with pride but couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

Shaking her head, Reylana said, “It’s good to see you again, Reylin.” She wrapped both arms around him and squeezed him tightly.





Chapter 37




In the thick forest, Mi’tal felt much colder than he had riding through Na’zora. He was grateful for the generous helping of ground pepper he had picked up in Duana’s marketplace. After sprinkling it inside his boots, he found his feet were much warmer.

The white banner with blue trim mounted to the back of his saddle floated lazily on the cold breeze. He could only hope the elves would recognize it as a symbol of peace when he encountered them in the Wildlands. Without knowing where the elves might be hiding, he took little comfort in the banner’s presence. Having the chance to speak before he was shot would be more helpful than the banner, but their archers were difficult to spot, even in the bare trees of winter.

High above in the trees, Sal watched intently as a single horse and rider approached. The man was still a good distance away, but he was clearly heading in Sal’s direction. A white banner streamed behind the rider, and he recognized it as a banner of peace. A single rider alone posed little threat, but he could be a distraction from the army that might be following him.

Sal climbed hurriedly down the tree and raced back to camp. He spotted Reylana first and asked, “Where is Reylin?”

“He’s scouting the southern edge of camp. Why?”

“There’s a rider approaching,” he replied.

“We better tell Essa,” she said, searching the camp with her eyes. Spotting Essa with a group of sword maidens, she sprinted to her side followed closely by Sal.

“This had better be important,” Essa said, glaring at Sal.

“It is, he replied. There’s a rider approaching the camp.”

“Is he a scout?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Sal answered, smoothing down his silver hair. “He’s alone and carries a white banner. Perhaps he has come to speak with us.”

“Or he’s a spy,” Reylana offered. “He may be attempting to locate our camp so he can return with an army. I don’t think we should trust him.”

Essa weighed Reylana’s opinion heavily. She was a trusted ally and quite skilled in battle. Her brother Reylin, however, was quick to distrust all humans, and he had probably influenced Reylana to the same way of thinking.

“If this man is alone, I will listen to what he has to say. If there is any hint he is spying for an army, I will kill him.”

Reylana started to argue, but a stern glance from Essa’s dark eyes stopped her.

“Should I escort him into the camp?” Sal asked.

“Yes, but don’t talk to him except to tell him you will bring him here. I don’t want him getting away with any information.”

With a nod, Sal turned and ran back to his post. The rider was much closer now, and Sal began to approach cautiously. He was close enough to see that the man was armed, so he readied his bow just in case. Knocking an arrow to the string, he called out to the rider. “Halt! Who are you, and what do you want?”

Mi’tal immediately stopped his horse and raised both hands in the air. Looking around, he failed to see the person who was speaking, but he was grateful to have been spoken to rather than shot. “I am Mi’tal of Na’zora, servant to Prince Aelryk. I come with a message of peace.”

Sal emerged from his hiding place in the thick forest, his bow still at the ready. “I will lead you to my camp.”

Mi’tal slowly dismounted his horse and took the reins in his hand. Never before had he seen a Wild Elf quite like Sal. He wanted to ask where he was from but thought better of it. With an arrow still pointed at his heart, he didn’t want to risk upsetting the elf.