Demaria said, “The East Shore elves aren’t the only elves in the world, just the last elves to live near the Flatlands.”

Merek knew this. It’d been centuries since the war between elves and men, and for many, it was hard to remember--he supposed some of the more learned among the hoverstones would have kept better track of the past. But so far as he knew, it hadn’t been a war the elves could sustain. He didn’t know why. His best guess had been that the elves came to the continent from somewhere else and met with heavy resistance.

But the Flatlands were old, as were the Highlands, and the Hoverstones were even older. History becomes lost with time, people mis-remember--on purpose or otherwise--and happenings to into legends, legends into myths, and even myths fade away to a jotted note beneath slim paragraphs no one is likely to read. Merek wondered if there was another history that no one knew, regarding the elves. Demaria didn’t know when he asked.

“The East Shore elves have been on the East Shore for as long as I’ve lived. There has never been talk of leaving, but there has never been talk of expanding; I don’t know if we’ve done either before.”

“All you know is that there was a war.”

“A costly one. And it was before we knew how to make these.” She held up the pendant around her neck, a funny little thing that seemed to make her impervious to weaponry. How effective was that, anyway? And more importantly, where the hell can I get one?

“So, what I’ll find on the East Shore is an old community of elves, who know some of their past, but what exactly will happen?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“You’ll be our guest.”

“You say that like I’ll be a prisoner. Not a guest.”

“You’ll be our guest.” She shifted on her horse, the two riding along a small path through a golden-green Flatland meadow. “We don’t take prisoners. That’s not our way...”

Don’t take prisoners, as in everyone’s welcome, or don’t take prisoners, as in we show no mercy....

“Okay, so I’ll be your guest. Then what?”

“Then we will all talk about what must be done with the egg. It will be a difficult conversation for all.”

“Why?”

“Eggs hold powerful creatures within, Merek. Dragons. And other beings, some unknown. To release them is to bond them to you, and to have a creature bonded to you brings about immense power. Yet--”

“You can’t destroy them.”

She blinked. “Yes...how did you--”

“Because that also is not your way; how can you destroy a being so rare as to be nearly myth? How can you deny it life? I would guess then that your point would be to make sure its not bonded to the person who found the egg?”

“Or at least, not the wrong kind of person.”

“And why can’t the elves just take it?”

“As I have said, the being inside the egg comes with immense power. And we elves have our own power, too. Some of us can do magic. Some of us can read minds. Some of us can even control weather, to a limited degree. To put, say, a dragon in our possession, in any one of the elves hands, could be especially dangerous.”

“You speak as though this has happened before.”

“There is one...”

But she would speak no more of it.

The two rode for the East Shore, and for a very long time, they did so in silence.