Nineteenth of Harvest

Belkai was shocked at how strong the Blackwings truly were, despite their seemingly scrawny forms. They carried her through the air for a full half hour by her estimation before dropping her back to the ground. Her guess about their being led by instinct had been wrong – the Recluse must have directed their attack to capture her. Belkai cried out in pain as she hit the ground, then lifted her head as a half dozen elves surrounded her. They were her height, fair skinned and variously armed with bows and swords. They wore white armour that seemed like some sort of leather that she didn’t recognise. So, not wiped out. But why do you serve the one who destroyed your home? She slowly rose to her feet, ignoring the blood leaking from the claw marks in her shoulders.

“You are the mage Mishtar seeks,” one of the elves said, stepping forward and letting his sword hang by his side. “He bids you to join him.”

“Who is Mishtar?” Belkai chose to feign ignorance. Perhaps she’d survive longer.

The elf’s eyes narrowed. “The vile ones call him the Recluse. That name has no place here.”

Belkai nodded wordlessly and didn’t resist as another elf stepped forward to tie her hands in front of her with a solid rope. That done, he patted some sort of ointment onto her wounds. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the deep cuts burned like fire. Her eyes stayed locked on the lead elf, who seemed to be bursting with hate.

“Do you have a name?” Belkai asked, fighting to keep her voice steady through the pain. The elf didn’t answer, only gesturing for his comrades to move into the forest. The one who had put the ointment on her wounds shoved her forwards and she followed their trail. Not knowing their abilities, she held back from using her magic to study them. The less they understood her, the more surprise she could gain when the time came.

“How did you track Mishtar?” her captor asked quietly. In her mind, Belkai decided to call him Yola, after an elven villain from a childhood story. It was a rare moment of true hatred on her part.

“His trail is obvious to those with understanding,” she replied, knowing that her quiet voice was easily heard by the whole group. “It didn’t take much strength to follow it.”

Yola didn’t answer, but Belkai knew that he didn’t believe her. It didn’t matter. She had no intention of speaking to any but this Mishtar. He alone had the answers she needed.

After a few more long hours, their leader whispered an order. Yola grabbed Belkai by the arm and she froze in place. He had a finger over his lips, and pushed her down under a bush. The other elves had already melted away. After a few moments of confusion, Belkai heard something big crashing through the undergrowth. She closed her eyes and reached out, not thinking about hiding her abilities from her captors. Whatever was coming, it radiated contempt – not anger or hate, merely a disdain for anything in its way. The elves, at least, were concerned. That got Belkai’s attention. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t an ally, but perhaps she could put it to good use. She decided to try something new, and made her presence known to the creature. It was just a sensation it received, a hint that someone was nearby. She heard a distant grunt, then the crashing began to draw closer. Beside her, Yola silently drew a dagger and held it tight. He glanced over at her and grimaced. His racing heart told of the tension that he felt.

“Troll,” he whispered. Belkai could see it now, or at least part of it. A head came into view not too far away, a scarred face whose grey, weathered skin reminded Belkai of a sundried tomato. Its massive shoulders bulged with muscle. No wonder the elves are nervous. This thing could take a beating and probably not even notice. She reached out again, this time giving the troll a new sensation, drawing it away. It hesitated, sniffing the air as it caught the elves’ scent. Belkai strengthened the signal that she was sending, and the troll gave a loud grunt before stomping away.

Yola waited a few minutes before pulling Belkai to her feet. He put his dagger away and said, “Trolls are rare here, but are not to be trifled with. We need to move faster before it comes back.”

For her part, Belkai had to hide her smile. Whoever this Mishtar was, he has no idea what he was drawing into his home.

* * *

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Davos and Loranna had waited through the night before Ukari reached them. As the sun began to fall, they had debated whether or not to light a campfire. So long as Davos was keeping watch, they wouldn’t need it for visibility, and the night air wasn’t cold enough to require its warmth. Nonetheless, they chose to light one as a precaution; many animals shied away from fire, even if it attracted others. Davos had slept until a few hours before dawn and as he stood watch he listened to the distant chittering and screeches of Narandir’s creatures. None had shown themselves since Belkai was taken, and Davos had the haunting feeling that he and Loranna were worth very little in the Recluse’s eyes. Which means our lives are essentially forfeit, he thought as he made his circuit around their camp. As the sun began to finally rise, he began to put out their campfire, stopping when he heard a strange bird call. He responded in kind before shaking Loranna awake.

“We have company,” he whispered. “They’re friendly. Ukari.”

He stood as Ukari stepped over a dead Blackwing and into the clearing. Two army officers followed him in, one standing on either side behind him.

“It’s been a long walk, friend,” Ukari called out, and Davos took his wrist in greeting.

“It is good to hear a friendly voice,” Davos acknowledged. “I see you brought friends.”

Ukari introduced Ertas and Andiri. Davos instantly picked who was the frontline officer and who was sent to supervise him, though the latter still had the bearing of a combat veteran. That was a rare enough occurrence that he merited a second look from the scout.

“What interest does the king have in us?” Loranna asked as she joined the group. Ukari nodded a greeting, recognising her as a former student of Davos’.

“This is bigger than you may think,” Ukari told her. Loranna had to hide her amusement at Ukari’s own relative ignorance. “There have been attacks from the creatures in Narandir. Between these and the Aliri invasion, the king wants the Recluse dead. He needs the south secure so he can focus on the elves.”

“How many men do you have with you?” Davos asked.

“We entered the Forest with seventy,” Ertas told him. “There are forty of us left. If this Recluse has an army, we may not have much of a chance.”

“We have an advantage,” Davos said, giving Loranna a cautious glance. “The killer I was tracking, a woman, was taken from us. He has taken her as a hostage, but she may be the only one of us who can truly kill him.”

“You’re saying that you managed to infiltrate his camp?” Andiri asked.

“It wasn’t our plan,” Loranna admitted. “But Belkai knows how to turn things to her advantage.”

“Can you still track her?” Ukari asked, and Davos nodded.

“He’d know her scent anywhere,” Loranna answered with a smirk. Davos ignored her innuendo and simply said,

“We need to move fast. We can work out a plan when we find her.”

The two officers looked to Ukari, who nodded. “Davos is my superior. I follow him.”

Andiri looked hesitant, but Ertas nodded. “That’s good enough for me. Let’s get on with it.”

* * *

That same morning, the elves stopped again, this time for Yola to take a linen wrap and blindfold Belkai. We are getting close. She’d known that for the past few hours, had sensed Mishtar’s growing presence. Her deception had worked so far. They may have taken her sight, but she could follow the breeze, recognise the changing scents, and listen to the trees’ darkening whispers. She knew where she was, probably well enough to escape if the need arose. They took a winding route, clearly designed to disorient her. Belkai turned her mind off the journey and focused on what she could reach out and feel. The elves’ leader had clearly felt no pity towards her, but nor did he feel any hatred, Belkai realised. He simply had his part to play in this world and accepted it without remorse or question. She respected it but had no pity on him either. Had she not needed his escort to the Recluse, she would have killed them already – or gone down fighting. She wasn’t afraid of dying, though she dreaded what would come afterwards. Ashelath would give her no peace. Did Davos understand that? For that matter, did she? With every step they took towards the Recluse, doubt began to gnaw at her. Could her plan succeed? Did Ashelath already know about it?

“Creator, preserve me,” she found herself praying quietly, for the first time in many years. None of the elves reacted, though they must have heard her. She realised that they thought she feared the Recluse. Good for you, she thought. All the better that you don’t see me as a threat. They would learn to regret that.

After another hour or two, they stopped again, and Yola removed the blindfold. Belkai could see a green light shimmering in the trees ahead.

The lead elf turned to Belkai and smiled.

“Welcome to the real Narandir.”

He led them through the last of the trees and into a massive, open space. Beneath their feet was lush, green grass. Wooden towers rose above them, each big enough to home a hundred people, connected by leathery ramps and steps. They almost seemed organic, as if they had risen from the ground itself. A green glow came from moss and fungi growing over the buildings. Elves and humans, both light- and dark-skinned, milled about as they went about their lives, oblivious to the new arrivals. The city extended for several acres, and in the centre was the palace, a towering tree as wide as three houses, lines of gold implanted in the trunk, red script in an ancient language carved into the bark.

“The Kingdom of the Recluse,” the lead elf announced. “Or, in terms less vile, the Lord of the Forest.”