Chapter Two

Ellod

There was the sound of a horn, clear and loud over the land. The last time one was heard was nearly five years ago, and it did not bring good tidings with it. Ellod sat upright, feeling the sleep leave him as he glanced up to see Brae. She was already awake, looking out a narrow window to the world outside. When he walked over to her, he could see the faint line of men and horses approaching.

“I’m surprised they arrived so quickly.”

Brae nodded. “It is a long way from Caidon, but their ships and horses are swift."

Ellod looked towards the forest; in days past it was kept at bay who gathered ithil stone from the earth’s depths and farmers who tended the land to reap wheat and barley and rye. Now the farmers and miners were gone, and the forest’s reach had extended far, surrounding nearly all of Ithilia. If he looked long enough, Ellod swore that it had moved ever closer to their doorstep, as if the trees themselves were closing in around them.

Behind them, more Ithilians rose, going to the window where the early morning’s light catches upon the stretch of hill the Caedonians move across. As they drew closer, Ellod could see what they had brought with them to the West. They came with two one hundred horses, behind them carts being dragged by mules laden with goods. Men and women flanking their soldiers carried the banner of Caidon, a deep blue of the ocean woven with golden thread.

“They will be here soon,” Brae said.

Ellod looked at her. “And we shall be ready for them.”

When they did arrive, each Ithilian stood ready at the gate. Ellod stood with Brae and Baedren and Ildris, their hands ‘round their weapons, prepared if demons or the Caidonians themselves turned upon them. He glanced once and saw the pale eyes of Brae staring back at him, lips tight with wariness. She gave a small nod to him, and he gave one in return. All men and women present watched as the stone doors opened, and the Caidonians rode inside.

At the front of the legion were four riders; one was older, streaks of white and gray in his black hair and beard. He was dressed in fine silk robes, bits of his golden armor showing through. That was Lord Othalom of Caedon; another man was at his side, one who had the same dark locks as his father and silver eyes common of royalty in the East. To their left was a woman, her eyes the color of amethysts, hair in long braids behind her head. The cloak on her shoulders showed she was a soldier, and a high ranking one at that. The man at her side had golden eyes and held a spear in his hand, the blade curved into a cruel smile of steel.

The entire legion came to a sudden stop. Lord Lionel went past his people and raised his hand in greeting. Lord Othalom dismounted and walked towards him. While on in years, he still stood tall as an oak, his skin the gold of those blessed by the sun. Lord Lionel was pale as milk, cloak wrapped tightly around him as if from a chill. Yet when he looked upon Lord Othalom, a smile grew upon his face, one of old friends meeting each other after many years passed.

“Arunae*, Ne Veken,” Lord Lionel said.

“Drosto ve*, me Veken,” Lord Othalom answered.

They laughed, and then embraced each other tightly. Ithilians and Caedonians looked at them and each other, surprised at this display of friendship. When they pulled apart, Lord Othalom spoke for the first time:

*Hello, My friend

*I thank you, my friend

“Ithilians, I am honored to be with you here, in one of the oldest kingdoms of Arnos. Before you stand my finest soldiers, trained to fight and defend Caidon. Haidara Amnell, Valharad A’ros and Roland Othalom, my son, are their leaders. They will fight and help to defend your land. May this be the first step of an alliance between Ithilians and Caidonians alike,

“Which of course,” Lord Othalom added. “will be strengthened by the union of my son to Lord Lionel’s daughter, Brae.”

Ellod looked to Brae, who only stared at Lord Lionel, saying nothing in return. Neither Caedonians nor Ithilians spoke out in approval. Lord Othalom must have sensed the unease, and so he gestured a hand towards his people.

“We have brought you many gifts: food, good wine, fine armor and weapons made personally by the goldsmiths of Caidon. Let us go and celebrate inside!”

The rest of the soldiers dismounted, leading their horses into the stables. The wagons were unloaded, each Ithilian taking as much of the goods as they could carry. To evade his daughter’s words, Lord Lionel kept close to Lord Othalom, talking silently amongst each other. Ellod walked to Brae, who had her back turned to him towards her father. He looked down and saw how tightly her hand was clenched around her sword, knuckles turned pinched and white.

“Brae…” he began.

She straightened herself, then turned to face him; her expression was blank, save for those pale blue eyes that blazed with anger. For a moment she looked down and slowly eased her fingers off the blade’s hilt. Without answering him she walked off, moving past the crowd and towards her father and Lord Othalom. Ellod sighed, then followed, making sure to keep her in sight.

The crowd moved into the Feasting Room, two rough hewn tables at each side, with a smaller third one at the front. This was where Lord Lionel and Lord Othalom sat. Caidonians sat at the right end table, Ithilians on the left. Conversation flowed freely through both parties, but neither side tried to mingle with the other. Ellod sat down with Ildris and Baedren, who looked nervously at Brae, sitting by herself near the table’s end. Though he tried to catch her eye, she did not look anywhere but at her father, and her gaze was more venomous than a snake. Ildris spoke into his ear:

“Did she tell you she was betrothed?”

“I think Brae was as surprised as we are.” He said.

“Why doesn’t she speak with you?” Bhaedren asked, brows knitted with concern.

Ellod looked back at her. “I don’t think she’s in the mood for that.”

Ildris put a hand on his shoulder. “Better to wait, then; she’ll speak to you when she’s ready.”

Ellod looked again towards Brae; she met his gaze for the briefest moment, and in that moment he could see the pain within her face, and something else lingering there too-perhaps fear? He did not know, and in an instant she turned her attention back to her father, still in discussion with Lord Othalom. She glared, and Lord Lionel pretended not to notice.

At the door, Mella and a whole host of servants, Ithilian and Caedonian alike, brought out heaping platters of food; roasted ham and mutton, cured beef and salted fish, grapes and apples and red sweetfruit. Barrels of ale and wine were set onto the tables, men and women filling flagons. Baedren passed Ellod his own flagon of ale, and he took a long swig. It tasted rich and cold, so he had another drink. Baedren was already gnawing at a leg of ham while Ildris helped to pass more ale across the Ithilian side.

Suddenly, Lord Othalom rose, raising his glass along with him.

“A toast,” he said. “to my people, and to Ithilians. With regret, I must depart tomorrow, as my city is still in need of their Lord. Roland and Haidara will lead in my absence. I wish you all strength and valor in your fight.”

The Caidonians raised their glasses in honor of their Lord, and Ellod scoffed.

“Typical,” He said, drinking the last dredges of his ale.

“If you’re a Lord like ‘im,” Baedren said, speaking between a mouthful of food. “You don’t need to do the fightin’ yourself. ”

“If they should only be so kind,” Ildris said. “and for you not to speak until your mouth is empty.”

Baedren gulped down the rest of the food before giving his sister a grin. “Can’t help that I’m hungry.”

Ellod ate a bit of mutton, still looking at Brae. She ate slowly, drinking no ale or wine, but a small cup of water she raised to her lips. He knew better than anyone her disdain for any drink that clouded a man’s mind.

Ithilians feasted with vigor, and Caidonians sipped their wine and ale, picking delicately at their food, but made no move to sit among their hosts or start a friendly conversation.

So it is true. Ellod thought to himself. Caidonians are as wary of being outsiders as they are of us.

He looked and caught the gaze of Haidara, her eyes catching the light of the torches on the walls. She had high cheekbones and a soft smile that curled up when Ellod’s gaze lingered too long. He looked away, feeling heat rising to his face, and when he looked again, the boy to her right-Valharad was his name?-gave him a sharp look before turning his attention back to Haidara. Ellod looked left to Roland, who sipped his wine and took furtive glances towards his newly betrothed. She paid him no mind.

More mutton was passed along, Ellod taking his share onto his plate. The ale must have awakened a hunger within him, because he ate each bite with the fervor of a man starving. He could not remember the last time meat had filled his stomach. Ellod ate another bite and tasted spices he had never known existed, probably from some island in the East. If he had some coins and a ship, he would sail there himself and buy it for a good price.

All at once he heard the scream, one that silenced everyone present. There was a pause, and then the sound again, this time with a long growl following it. It was coming from somewhere outside of the Ithilden. Brae rose from her seat and ran towards the noise; Ellod followed close behind, bow and quiver at his hip. Ithilians ran with their weapons at hand, and Caidonians staring as they fled out of the room entirely. It took a full minute for them to muster their own forces and go towards whatever danger lay ahead.

They raced towards the upper battlements, where the walls gave shelter and a view of what lay below. Ellod stopped beside Brae, leaning forward to seek the source of the noise. Ithilians crowded ‘round the Eastern Wall, jostling each other to get a decent look. Caidonians stayed behind, already unsure of their new enemy. There was another scream, more piercing than the last. More sounds followed of an animal trapped and struggling to free itself, now from the Center Wall.

Ellod looked down upon the ground, and saw a small gap formed in the stone, enough for a smaller creature to pass through. A daemon was there, twisting and writhing, a limb caught in the space between two stones. He looked at Brae, who stared at him with wide eyes, the anger replaced by surprise and fear. Ellod reached into his quiver, drawing out a single arrow. He pulled it against his bowstring, aiming it towards the beast in question.

“Wait,” Brae said, raising her hand.

“What?”

“We need to know how it found that space, and if the other beasts know as well.”

“We need to kill the daemon now before it gets inside.” Ellod said.

“That will not give us answers, Ellod.”

“It will give us our lives, and I’ll be thankful enough for that.”

He moved his bow down and aimed; Brae pushed his bow to the right, making the arrow falter. It pinned down the daemon’s leg, and the beast screamed once more in pain. Caidonians flinched at the noise, and Ellod turned to Brae.

“You made me miss, woman!” he said.

“We need it alive." she said.

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Brae turned on her heel and went towards the tower of the Eastern Wall. Ellod cursed low under his breath, but followed all the same. Bhaedren and Ildris trailed behind him, the only Ithilians brave enough (or foolish enough) to pursue. Baedren seized a torch off the wall, as the light of the sun did not reach between the stones. Ellod notched another arrow into his bow, and together they went down to where their enemy lay in wait for them.

The stairs inside the tower were narrow and winding, near treacherous to walk at a fast pace. Ellod looked ahead to Brae, who seemed to have her anger back, given the stiffness of her shoulders and hand once again around the hilt of her sword. They all kept silent, waiting until they were but a few paces from the stone door.

They stopped there, waiting until they heard the noise. There was a low sound, and something struggling and twisting in its hold. For a moment it stopped, and there was the sound of a long breath as it sensed that humans were near. Brae crept towards the wall, and the daemon sniffed louder.

Brae looked back at Ellod, pointing one finger at his bow. He drew it taut and moved in front of her to strike.

Ellod walked forward and stood in front of where the demon lay trapped; all he saw was an empty space where the beast should have been. Ellod stepped back, and his glance went up to the wall. Had he not, he would not have seen the daemon which pounced on him, jaws snapping and hands clawing at him.

“Ellod!” Brae cried, running towards them. She used the pommel of her sword to knock the daemon off him. Ildris hoisted Ellod to his feet while Bhaedren swung the torch at the daemon, driving it back towards the space which it had crawled in.

The beast hissed and ducked the torch; Ellod saw where its hands had torn out the arrow from its leg, how it favored the left side of its body when moving. His bow and arrow still lay upon the floor, so he moved quickly.

The daemon saw it too and lurched forward, stopped again by Baedren’s torch. The fire touched its shoulder, and it recoiled back from the heat, clutching its skin and screaming that horrible sound which made even Ellod cover his ears. Growling, the beast knocked the torch from Baedren’s hand, the flame sputtering out on the damp stone floor.

“No!” Brae said, reaching for the torch, though it was useless.

The daemon clawed out at her, and she held out her sword to block its advance. Baedren, still calm, raised his left hand and drove his fist into the demon’s jaw. As it reeled from the punch, Ildris locked her arm around its neck and a hand around its wrists.

It took Ellod a moment to grasp his bow, fixing the arrow upon the string. He looked at his target, stood straight and loosed his bow.

The arrow sailed across the narrow space, landing one arrow in its leg, another in the center of the daemon’s chest. The beast fell back, the breath knocked from its body. When it lay still, the dark blood issuing from its skin, Ellod dropped his bow and went to the space where the demon had crawled in. There was still dried blood on the stones from when it had been pierced by his first arrow. Brae crouched down beside him, studying the marks where the daemon had entered. Her gaze flitted from the wall to the daemon behind him. When Brae finally stood, Ellod could see the anger returned to her face.

“That bloody hrounen!” she spat out, throwing her sword onto the ground. Ellod said nothing, only stared in silence as Brae paced like a trapped animal, going anywhere but near the daemon’s corpse.

“Brae-”Ildris said.

“Five years, five years we have held the line against these beasts, and now they come into our home?”

“We still do not know how it was able to get the stone loose, let alone get inside.”

Baedren and Ellod went over to the small space, examining where the demon had been trapped by the hand. There were claw marks and blood on the stone, a small finger left when the daemon wrested itself free. Ellod went back to the beast in question; he saw more marks on its skin, likely from its earlier struggle. The daemon was slight, just able to twist and turn itself inside the wall. He could see marks on its skin from the effort, a finger on its left hand missing.

“It has been a long time since the daemons have been able to reach us here. We didn’t expect it, because we haven’t needed to-”

“Of course we haven’t,” Brae sighed. “We have become careless.”

“We have been keeping the daemons as far away from our walls as possible. You know that, Brae.”

Her mouth turned down, as if she had tasted something bitter.

“I have not tried hard enough, and my people nearly suffered for it.”

Tears stood at the corners of her eyes, and Ellod went to her, putting both hands on her shoulders.

“You are the fiercest fighter I know, and you would never put our people in harm’s way.”

Brae looked up and gave him a small smile, more for his assurance than hers.

“For all of our sakes, I hope I have not.”

All at once the door to the Central Wall was opened; Ellod saw Haidara run down the steps, sword in hand. Her eyes looked from them to the demon upon the floor, and they widened with fear. Valharad appeared at her side, spear glinting, ready to fight if necessary.

“Is that...one of them?” she said, retaining her composure.

“Aye, My Lady, ” Brae said, sheathing her sword. “and there will be more demons, should you choose to fight them.”

At her words, Valharad bristled. “Haidara Amnell is the finest soldier in Caidon, and she does not hide from an enemy.”

Brae walked over to them. “You will not be able to, once you are out in the forest. Now we will go tell the others of what happened, and they will seal this tower off before any other beasts come inside.”

“What of this one?” Baedren asked, tipping his head towards the fresh corpse.

“Will sealing it off guarantee our safety?” Haidara said.

Ellod looked her in the eye. “With beasts like this, we cannot guarantee the safety of our people, or yours.”

“It is still better than doing nothing at all.” Ildris replied.

“We were not told of this by Lord Othalom, or Lord Raedmond,” Valharad said, looking at Haedara. “have we been led into slaughter?”

Ellod smiled then. “You need only remember one thing when you are fighting against one of those daemons, My Lady.”

“And what is that?” Haedara asked.

“Don’t get caught; now, help us send the daemon back out the way it came.”

She and Valharad exchanged glances, but went to the corpse and lifted it by the legs, while Brae and Ellod carried it on their shoulders. The space was narrow, so they knelt down and pushed the daemon through. It was there that they could see the rough hide of its skin, the jaw where the teeth stood like jagged rocks in its maw. Brae and Ellod paid it no mind, though Haedara and Valharad grimaced at the sight, trying to draw their gazes away but pulled back all the same.

They had managed to put it through by the waist when it caught, not budging an inch.

“It’s stuck.” Brae said, pushing the body to no avail.

“Can you push it more on your side?” Ellod said, looking at Haidara.

“We’re trying.” she replied, both straining with the effort. “The thing won’t budge."

Brae looked up. “A little help then, Baedren?”

He walked over; Haidara’s and Valharad’s eyes widened at the sheer size of him, how his arms grasped the daemon as if it was light as a feather. He angled the corpse to the right, then pushed it forward. It slid out from the stone like a snake, falling onto the ground. Brae reached her hand through and pulled the stone through; it was cleaved in two, rough scratches carved onto the surface like scars.

“How could a daemon have split this in two?” she asked.

Baedren leaned down, inspecting the damage.

“Perhaps the stone was already weak; we haven’t inspected the walls in weeks.”

Brae shook her head. “Ithil stone is stronger than steel, and more than sturdy enough to keep any monster outside of it. There is no way it could have breached the wall, let alone split a stone in two.”

“And yet it did,” Ellod said. “So even stone is not as strong as we thought.”

“No; these walls have kept out armies, and it still could now.”

“It could not keep out a daemon, Brae.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” she snapped.

Everyone fell silent, while Haidara and Valharad looked from Brae to each other.

She sighed and leaned back against the wall.

“We need to know how this daemon got in, and how we can stop them before more of them try to break into our walls and slaughter us in our sleep.”

“We will, as soon as we block off this passage.”

“And how will we do that?” Haedara asked.

“With able bodied hands and stone.”

He went off to the stairs, opening the door to a crowd of Ithilians and Caidonians alike. Some Ithilians had managed to draw their weapons, while Caidonians searched anxiously for their fellow soldiers. Ellod moved past the four leaders to the passage inside. Haedara and Valharad had emerged as well, their people yelling and clamoring for answers.

“Ilede, Soldiers.”

Ellod heard her words, remembering once he had heard that word, meaning please in the Caidonian’s mother tongue of Cailan. Still they persisted, yelling over themselves for answers. All at once a whistle rang out, sharp and clear across each person’s head; Valharad pointed his hand towards Haidara.

“Let her speak!” he said.

As they fell silent, Haedara spoke:

“Please, my people, do not panic. We have come here to help the Ithilians, not to hide in fear. I have seen how brave Ithilians are; Lady Brae and her friends fought valiantly against the monster in the wall. Now the monster is dead, but its kind still lives beyond these walls. Ithilians have fought and defended this land with strength and honor; I ask only to find courage within you, and raise your swords with each soldier here to fight.”

There was a moment’s pause, and then one woman raised her sword, the metal catching even upon the dim light. The rest followed, raising axes and spears and bows. Ithilians looked on, and Ellod felt what he had not truly experienced in a long time; hope, one which became clear with every person who pledged their sword and their lives to the cause.

He glanced at Brae, Baedren and Ildris, who could not draw their gazes away. The Caidonians lowered their swords, sheathing them in their scabbards. Some went forward to raise their hands to Ithilians, who returned the gesture. Others turned to Haedara, who raised her own hand in honor of the old gesture, though Ellod could see the furrowing of her brow, not knowing if she had made a grave mistake. Baedren and Yldris smiled while Brae stood in the doorway, silent but her gaze hopeful for the first time in years.

“Now, let us seal off this wall before more daemons emerge.”

With those words, Ithilians were spurred into action; a dozen of them went across the hall, going down the steps to a room where a sizable supply of stone existed, kept safe against intruders and monsters. Calls for hammers were called out, two of them going into the hands of Baedren and Ildris. Each one tested the swing of them, seeing how hard they could hit against stone.

A dozen more Ithilians opened the narrow passage, taking the steps down to where the demon had crawled in through the stone. There was only the mark of its blood, dark as nightfall, and the stone split in two. Ithilians made space for Baedren to walk, Ildris at his side. They went to the mark of blood, standing on either side of it. Ellod had walked down to the last step when they raised their arms and swung forward.

When Baedren struck the stone, it was with all the power of the spirit Hefsen, the force splitting the stone in one blow. His sister followed, raising her hammer high above her head. A few Caidonians had wandered down to see the spectacle, and all were rendered silent as Ithilians did their work. It was what they had done for thousands of years, working to build the kingdom that lay at their feet.

Ellod watched as they worked, their faces growing ruddy with the effort. The hammers swung and broke the stone in sharp thuds and crack. Soft earth broke, revealing the stone foundation beneath. Baedren and Ildris stood up, huffing and sweating, pink skin turned red. A flask was given to them, which they drank in long gulps.

“What shall we do now?” a Caidonian said.

“The only thing we can do,” Baedren answered. “build back up the stone.”

A dozen hands placed down rocks, setting the end pieces at an angle to the larger wall around it. Each stone was packed tightly, what little space that existed between them filled with smaller stones. Caidonians and Ithilians alike carried stone, straining against their weight before placing them down. They were not light stones, and they were twice as strong. Ellod felt sweat build beneath his jerkin and atop his brow, but continued on with his work.

Aside from them, a young lad carried a stone in his hands, bending down to fit it inside the space the demon left behind. He pushed it in carefully, making sure it would not disrupt the stones beside it. When it was secure he stepped back, studying his handiwork.

Piece by piece, the wall grew in size until it reached the ankle, then the knee, growing until it sat at Baedren’s waist. All present were silent, focused on the task at hand. Bhaedren himself stood up, taking another swig of water before staring at the work of his people.

Ellod smiled before he felt a pang of hunger in his stomach, and looked back to the Feasting Room. Platters of food stood there, his own plate still filled with mutton. Hunger overtook him enough to take steps towards the door above. He would have done so, if a hand had not stopped him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Brae asked.

“To have the rest of my meal.”

“A bloody daemon tried to invade our walls, and all you can think about is your stomach?”

“I killed that bloody daemon, and I’ll go up those steps now so I can eat my fill before I kill again.”

Her lips twisted, and he freed himself from her grip, racing up the stairs and back inside to the Feasting Room. Lord Othalom and Lord Raedmond were there, muttering and whispering amongst themselves. Lord Raedmond took generous sips from his goblet of wine; Ellod could see his hand was trembling. They took no notice as he sat down in his chair once more, picking up his fork to spear a morsel of meat upon it. The flavors of the spices returned to him, and he took another bite. On a platter in front of him were dates; he plucked one with his hand and into his mouth, savoring the taste, warm and sweet as the sun.

If the Caidonians stay here, we’ll eat like kings each night. Ellod smiled and took a salted fish into his hand, stripping the white meat from the bone. He would have taken another if it was not plucked -from his fingers. Brae sat in the chair beside him, a scowl on her face.

“You do know while you eat, men and women help build the wall to keep the daemons out of your home?”

At those words, Lord Raedmond paled, taking a long gulp of wine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brae’s lips curl up into a smirk. Ellod suspected she said the words for that effect.

“You ran off here then, boy?”

A large trunk of an arm reached past him towards a plate of sausage. Baedren bit into one without bothering to carve it up with a knife. Ildris seized a pitcher of water, pouring a glass before downing the contents in a single gulp. Brae stole another fish from Ellod’s plate, chewing thoughtfully as she did.

“We need to see if there are other weak spots,” Ellod said, pouring wine into his cup. “that cannot be the only one.”

“I told you, the stone is too strong,” Brae stopped his hand. “don’t drink too much of that wine; I need you to be clear headed.”

“She’s right,” Baedren snatched the cup from his hands. “Best leave drinking to the men.”

“Ay,” Ellod reached for the cup, which Bhaedren held just out of reach. “I am man enough for good wine.”

Brae leaned back against her chair. “What I don’t know is why it chose that moment to attack; if the daemons knew we had Caidonians in our midst, why not send more out to meet them?”

“Perhaps they knew the Caidonians were well-armed. Even the most desperate animal wouldn’t charge at them full-tilt.”

With that said, Ellod seized the cup from Baedren’s hand, taking a long swig. Brae frowned, though her attention was distracted elsewhere at that moment when Caidonians and Ithilians walked into the Feasting Room together, taking their places once more at the table. Ellod saw Haidara and Valharad together, walking to his seat when they saw him at his seat. Ellod could see the sweat upon their brows and fear hiding behind their faces.

Valharad and Haidara took their seats beside Ellod and Brae. When Baedren offered her wine, she took it with a soft thanks, staring more than once at the broad trunk of Baedren’s arm. She then turned her attention back towards Brae.

“It seems our people have found common ground after all.”

Brae nodded. “Good; we need more able-bodied men and women to fight.”

“That is what I wanted to discuss,” she leaned in closer so that she was in front of Ellod. He could smell the scent of lamdell blossoms on her skin, soft and cloying as a summer wind. Valharad leaned in as well, placing a hand on Haidara’s shoulder. Ellod took another gulp of wine and ignored the scent altogether.

“These are no ordinary beasts you will be fighting. The demon you saw was only one of them.” Brae said.

“How many are there?”

She looked Haidara in the eye. “We estimate a hundred in the inner region of the forest, and two hundred more in the middle and outer regions. Though their numbers may have grown in the past two years.”

“How?” Valharad said. “Do they breed?”

“Not that we know of.” Ellod looked at his furrowed brow, more suspicious of him than of the demons.

“The best we can do is keep them away from the edges of the forest, and drive them back into the shadows.

“Do we even have the numbers to fight them?”

“We do now.” Baedren said, gesturing towards the Caidonians, eating and talking softly with each other and Ithilians alike.

Haidara looked at him, her face grave with worry.

“I did not travel this far so my people could die.”

“Are you afraid of them?” Brae said.

“Do you take us for cowards?” Valharad answered.

“You would be a fool not to be frightened of them.”

“We have fought against soldiers of the Centurion and pirates in Ga' ead; what do we have to fear?”

“Only how quick you are with that spear.”

Brae pointed her chin to the weapon, the curved blade glinting in the light.

“I am.” he said.

“I would think nothing less of a Caidonian.”

“And when do we start?” Haidara asked.

Ellod smiled then. “You’ve already begun.”