Charomera

The 15th of Thargelion

The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals

“What about Callias Buteo?”

Lyssa’s blood flowed like ice through her veins. Callias was a poor example of humanity, reminiscent of those that had led to the isolation of Dawnwood, but for Vik to bring him up now, something had to be dreadfully wrong.

“I followed him, naturally.”

They faced each other under the moonslight. The night had not stopped during their hunt and it would soon be morning. Myriatos would start its day and their absence—or hers, at least—would be noticed. With the stark reminder of her duties, the night hunt seemed ridiculous. A frivolous risk, the kind that she would have chastised anyone else making.

“What did you find out?”

“He was starved and half-dead when I found him. It took two weeks to catch up with him. I don’t come near your skill when it comes to tracking in the woods, but he took little care to hide his passing.”

“Is he dead?” Lyssa asked.

Vik tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Did you want me to kill him?”

He was gauging her reaction, he had to be. When the village had elected her to lead it, she’d said Callias should be exiled for his negligence, not killed. She hadn’t wanted to start a new chapter of the village drenched in the blood of the former leader, especially not when she had little confidence in her own abilities. Now, with the mention of him once again, she was beginning to feel that she’d made a mistake.

“No. I only wanted him gone. If the Sylv killed him, it is not my concern.”

Vik nodded, as though confirming something to himself.

“Then you should know that he lives still. He was met by something I…do not know how to describe. It took great care to hide itself from sight, but it had a presence that could not be stifled. I was able to glimpse it, if only just, before it disappeared.”

“And what of Callias?”

“He was gone as well. They spoke, but I was unable to hear their words. The situation was…unsettling.”

“What did the entity look like?”

“I’m not entirely sure. I saw a lot of red. Do you have any idea what it was?”

Lyssa frowned and turned away, wondering how much was safe to share.

“Not with so few details. It sounds like trouble. Trouble we’re not presently equipped to handle.”

“Agreed. I’ve traveled far across Tartarus, but I’ve only ever felt power like that once before.”

Lyssa turned back to Vik with wide eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“Far across the ocean, much farther than most vessels can safely cross, we came to a land we believed had never been inhabited before.”

“What were you doing out there?” Lyssa interrupted.

“Exploring. Captain’s orders. Regardless, we were there, traipsing over a new land, when we found a hovel. The Captain brought me with him as he investigated. I’m not entirely sure why, but I suspect he thought there might have been an Oath to be made. The Blackdog is clever about such things. Inside the hovel was a most curious person. He looked human, but he wasn’t. Of that, I am certain. There was nothing inside the hovel, no furniture or food stores or any other signs that it was anything more than a shelter from the elements. He greeted us as though he expected our arrival. When we spoke with him, he was jovial, but unhinged, as I imagine anyone living in such isolation would become. We traded stories and his were unlike any I had ever heard, though their details slipped away from me as soon as we departed. As we left the hovel, I felt an intense press of power and magic, and when we turned back to look, it was gone. Completely vanished. The Captain told me to stay quiet about the situation and I did, but the power that I felt in that moment still makes me shiver on a hot summer’s night.”

Stolen novel; please report.

“But that being was friendly to you.”

Vik gave a short laugh devoid of any mirth.

“Every rabbit knows to fear the hungry wolf. Even if the wolf ignores a careless rabbit that crosses its path in one moment, there is no guarantee that it will not strike the next. In that moment, I felt the glimpse of something far beyond my comprehension. In the woods, finding Callias, I felt it again. These things, these entities, they are not for us to understand. They are for us to fear that they ever take our notice.”

“We have a people to look after,” Lyssa said, trying to inject as much steel into her voice as she could. “We do not have the luxury to turn away from the horrors in this world. We must face them to protect our people from their brunt.”

“Against such things? Were I as young and hopeful as you, perhaps I could believe such fantasies.”

Lyssa scowled at him.

“I gave into despair once before. I was shown, in the middle of my defeat, another way. I will not make the mistake of despair twice. If there is an enemy, we will face it. If victory is possible, we will secure it. That is our responsibility. If Callias returns, we will deal with him. Whoever this benefactor is, we will deal with them. All things in their own time. We will prepare, we will be ready. There is no other choice.”

Lyssa straightened her back and looked to the sky, which grew pink with the first dustings of morning.

“We have idled enough here. There is much to do back home. Can I continue to count on you?”

Vik bit his lip, his brow drawn tight. Lyssa had never seen him look more uncertain.

“That power outweighs understanding or resistance, but you have a point. It is better to die on one’s feet than on one’s knees. Yes, you have my services, Archousa. I will fight to protect Myriatos, pointless though the struggle may be.”

His words, and face, lacked conviction, but Lyssa would take what she could get.

“If such power exists, then power can be cultivated against it. Long has it been that the elves grow slowly, working incrementally toward perfection with life immortal to hone craft. Such is our gift and hubris. We must work faster to grow our power. Push ourselves as the rest do. Take their risks and reap their rewards. Perhaps we two can bridge the gap.”

Vik was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“Such a way means death. Risk must be managed, else our peoples would be extinct.”

“Haven’t you been listening, Vik? Progress must be seized, not waited upon. If Myriatos faces a threat, then we must rise to meet it. Our enemies will not afford us the luxury of time. That tradition risks all we have now.”

Vik held her gaze for a long time, his face twisted in wistful sorrow.

“I will mourn your death, young one.”

“Enough of this.” Lyssa threw up her hand to stop further comment. “If you will not be convinced by words, then watch my actions in the days to come. Ambition is not only for the mortals. We can show them why elves once ruled.”

Without waiting for a response, Lyssa turned toward Myriatos and began to run. The pace was faster than necessary, but the exertion for Vik to keep up was enough to keep any further conversation at bay. The sun crested over the trees by the time Myriatos came into sight. Their return was heralded by a pair of scouts that watched over the western side of the valley. As Lyssa approached, they both threw up a salute, the right fist raised to the heart. One of them sported a grimace.

“Elpida’s been looking for you, Archousa. She’s rather upset.”

Lyssa nodded at the guard and kept moving. She didn’t turn, assuming Vik would attend to his own matters once back in the village, and was mildly surprised when he fell into step beside her. The sound of raised voices came from the front of the village hall. Lyssa rounded the corner and found Elpida shouting at the door guard who, upon spotting Lyssa, pointed a finger in her direction. Elpida turned mid-tirade, anger hot on her face. Her eyes locked with Lyssa’s for a brief moment, then flicked to Vik. Elpida’s face lost all emotion, schooled into impassivity with more precision than an elven woodsinger. The guardswoman brought her right arm up in a quick salute.

“Archousa.” The words were painfully cold and disinterested, as though she might have been commenting on an askew painting or pointing out a weed in a bed of peonies. “I’m glad to see you’re alright.”

“My apologies, Captain. I did not mean to worry you,” Lyssa said, opting for Elpida’s formal title. “In fact, I have a matter we should discuss.”

“Respectfully, there is another matter which I must attend to.” Elpida’s voice did not change in tone or inflection, each syllable flat and unyielding. “Can it wait?”

Lyssa considered her for a moment, more than a little taken aback.

“Very well.”

Elpida rendered another salute before she turned and walked away.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll speak to her,” Vik reassured before heading after her.

Lyssa watched them go, mouth slightly open. She was left with the bemused door guard, her only reassurance that she wasn’t the only person hopelessly confused.