Hermera
The 3rd of Skirophorion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
“Forgive me, Archousa, but a trade arrangement seems premature when your village has nothing to trade,” Lord Cypress said.
Lyssa leaned back in her chair. They’d been discussing agreements for the better part of two hours; a quick chat, by elf standards. To her right and left were Theodorous and Tess, both of whom were more adroit in commerce. Tess answered her father’s objection.
“It does not have to be specific as to the items and payment, Lord Cypress, but rather an agreement that states that our villages are open to trade and what effects, if any, are imposed on it.”
Cypress waved a hand in the air.
“You speak of taxes?”
“Yes, lord.”
“Dawnwood elves do not pay taxes.”
Tess let out a quiet, weary sigh.
“Then I’m sure we can find an arrangement that would suit both sides.”
“Perhaps,” Lyssa said. “In place of an agreement that spells out the particulars of taxes or the lack thereof, we start with the prospect of open trade between our peoples.”
“I am not about to allow foreigners into Dawnwood. If there is trade to be had, it will be done elsewhere.”
“Most reasonable, Lord Cypress,” Theodorous said. “Myriatos, of course, will welcome any Dawnwood elves who come in peace. The lack of common currency may provide an issue, however. It is my understanding that Dawnwood does not use money.”
“That is correct. My people work collaboratively to ensure all are taken care of.”
“Then perhaps we can barter, but outright trade will be difficult. I think, for the moment, we should restrict it to official trade between liaisons acting on behalf of our respective villages.”
Cypress tapped a finger against his leg as he thought.
“I find that acceptable, though I still doubt what commodities you would wish to trade.”
“Myriatos will not always be as it is,” Lyssa said. “With access to the leylines of Light and Fire, it is hard to see a future where magic is not involved. Perhaps the benefits we can offer then will be of interest.”
Cypress smiled.
“Then I look forward to seeing what comes. Let there be trade.”
A Trade Agreement has been activated between Dawnwood and Myriatos.
Trade is approved for designated members acting on behalf of each village.
Lyssa dismissed the notification.
“I think that concludes our business. Thank you, Lord Cypress.”
“Indeed. My people will prepare for our return journey.”
He stood, inclined his head toward Lyssa, then swept out of the Village Hall. When he was gone, Lyssa let out a sigh and rubbed her eyes.
“Why did I let Arche talk me into this?” she moaned.
“Because he would have burned down half the village in his first hour as archon,” Tess said. “Then burn down the rest trying to fix the first half.”
“I find it incredibly difficult to care about trade.”
“It seems tedious,” Theodorous admitted. “But it’s important. We lack many supplies, right now. Until the farms have grown, we’re going to have difficulty feeding everyone. A little bit of gaiamancy will help, but having food come in from other places, like Dawnwood and Ship’s Shape, will help more until we can become self-sustaining. It also allows us access to things that we might otherwise not be able to get for a long time, like specialized tools or valuable materials.”
“I understand why it’s important, Theo, I just find it difficult to care.” Lyssa got to her feet. “I’m going to take a walk.”
She left them behind and slipped out the door, feeling the morning sun warm her face. Almost at once, many of their old problems had come back in full swing. Overcrowding and natural differences led to arguments and scuffles, especially between those who had lived in Myriatos since its founding and the new arrivals. Her guards had already had to separate a half dozen different people for nearly coming to blows and it hadn’t even been a full day since they’d arrived.
In many ways, it felt like she was starting over from nothing. There were nearly three hundred people in Myriatos, now. More, if one counted the delegation from Dawnwood. She was glad they would be leaving. As wonderful as it was to see her father again, it was also a reminder of everything that was lost to her. One more source of pain, nestled among the many.
“You all right, there?”
Lyssa half-turned, suddenly alert. Arche stood nearby, his hands in his pockets. He was looking at her with a mix of nonchalance and legitimate concern. What was strangest of all, however, was that she hadn’t actually heard him approach. Normally, he was like a toddler stomping through a forest of dried leaves, all crunch and no tact.
“I should drag you into more meetings,” she said. “Then you would understand the pointlessness of that question.”
“You could, but then who would retain their childlike wonder of the world?”
“Helwan.”
“Damn, you got me there.”
He fell into step beside her.
“Our friend has declined the offer to stay underground,” Arche said. “Instead, she wishes to make a home in the Sylv.”
“Such is her choice. Do you still maintain she won’t cause problems for us?”
Arche’s mouth stretched into a grimace.
“Not directly, not so long as I uphold my end of the bargain. Dawnwood, on the other hand, might prove troubling. I was followed last night. Didn’t catch a good look of the bastard, but three guesses as to who.”
“Fig?”
“Nailed it in one. He saw me feeding her. Might cause problems.”
Lyssa snorted.
“I would hope he isn’t stupid enough to cause more trouble, considering the lengths he’s already gone to.”
“You see it as stupidity,” Arche said, continuing quickly as she raised an eyebrow at him. “I agree, but he might see it differently. He might see it as a chance to redeem himself in the eyes of your lord father. Accomplish the mission he was given while proving that he was right about us all along.”
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“Lord Cypress told him to return to Dawnwood. He would not risk his wrath by delaying.”
“Did he?” Arche raised an eyebrow back at her. “Or did he order him to leave Myriatos? The two are not the same.”
Lyssa thought back to that conversation, cut short by Theodorous arriving to tell her of the flying ship.
“Curse the land he was born on!” she snarled in elvish. “May the fruits of that effort wither and decay.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured. Oh, are your elf friends leaving?”
Lyssa followed Arche’s gaze toward the Dawnwood delegation. They were lining up next to one of the palisade gates, Lord Cypress at their head. Several people stood around the perimeter, watching them. One broke forward, approaching her father. Lyssa squinted at the interloper. It was an elf, though not one she had ever seen before. His skin was onyx black and caught the light, and his single visible eye was entirely colored purple. The man looked more statue than elf, but his smile was broad and his demeanor unthreatening. By his description, and from talks with Arche, it had to be the mysterious Captain Ryan Blackdog. As they approached, her keen ears were able to make out their conversation.
“Hail, Cypress of the Dawnwood.”
Her father turned to the elf, seeming to notice him for the first time.
“Ryan, is that you?”
“In the flesh. It is good to see you, my old friend. How long has it been?”
“Six hundred years if it’s been a day.”
The two embraced, pulling each other close. She could make out the captain’s lips moving, but their conversation had grown too quiet for even her ears to pick up.
“Do you reckon they know each other?” Arche asked, oblivious to their words.
“It would seem that way. What do you know of the captain?”
Arche shrugged.
“Not much. Seems a decent enough fellow, for a reformed pirate. He’s also not from Tartarus, though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. He didn’t tell me how he got in, but I imagine it was a very different method from mine. He commands an interesting crew and has the loyalty of every last one of them. He also has a weird fucking presence. It’ll hit you like a freight train, then be nonexistent the next moment.”
Lyssa frowned, another strange idiom.
“Freight train?”
Arche cursed under his breath, as if it would hide the swearing.
“Like a falling tree. Big one. Oak, maybe.”
Lyssa considered that for a moment.
“Is he an entity, like the others you’ve met? Hyperion also had a presence, as you call it.”
“I don’t think so, but I’m pretty sure he’s met some. He knows about the gods, at least, which is more than most. From what I’ve learned, it seems they took some care to erase most knowledge of themselves.”
“Strange. Why would they do that?”
“Not sure. I’ve got a feeling it’s to do with why they’re in Tartarus, but that’s a discussion for a different time. Do you know what kind of elf he is? I’ve never seen one with an eye like that.”
Lyssa shook her head.
“No. I am by no means an expert on all the variations of my kind.”
As they approached, the captain took a step back and made a flourishing bow in her direction.
“Archousa. I am delighted to make your acquaintance at last. I do so wish to talk with you. I imagine we have much to discuss.” He tapped a single finger against his temple on the side of his remaining eye, a smile flitting about his face. “I do not wish to intrude, however, on the farewells of you and your father. My ship will remain docked until Persepera. Farewell.”
And without waiting for a response, the captain stepped away. Lyssa was a little taken aback by the elf’s cavalier attitude. She had expected some of the solemnity that her father often exhibited, given how long they had apparently known each other. She could clearly see that he was many times over her senior, though she could only guess an approximate age. Given her father’s reaction, it was safe to say that Ryan was the oldest elf she had ever met.
Thoughts of the captain faded as her father stepped in front of her. He held out one hand, palm toward the sky, in a formal gesture. She placed her own hand in his, feeling his warm skin press against hers. It was the most he could give her under the attention of all the elves he’d brought with him. No matter her position or title, she would always be an exile to them.
She recognized the gesture for what it was, the closest thing to a hug that he could give her, and she loved him for it.
“I am glad that peace has been found between our people,” Cypress said. “May it grow strong, deep roots.”
“And may it blossom bright and frequent,” Lyssa finished.
At her signal, two guards opened the large, palisade gate, and the procession from Dawnwood walked out in orderly rows. The majority kept their eyes ahead, as if to say Myriatos held no interest to them. Cypress and Lyssa walked out together, with Arche trailing behind at a respectful distance.
Lyssa dreaded every step as they crossed the bridge over the river, knowing that it would take her father away. Their reunion had been brief, far too brief, despite her thinking not even a half hour prior that she would be glad to have them go. The pain of seeing him was only matched by the pain of knowing he was beyond her reach. She dared not even ask if she might send a delegation to Dawnwood. She knew the answer. Still, her father seemed to anticipate it.
“Now that we have established an accord between us, I will send one of mine to keep the line of communication open. One who is swift of foot and open of mind. Perhaps we will find a way to learn from each other after all.”
It was a clever offer. Not only was it clearly one of the few ways that Dawnwood would accept communication, but also a method by which they could keep a watchful eye on how Myriatos progressed. She couldn’t refuse without endangering the deals they had already made and, on the surface, there was no reason not to accept.
“I will look forward to meeting with your emissary. A month, perhaps, would be necessary to spare the resources to build comfortable lodging for them.”
A month would give her time to prepare. Time to work with Vik on how best a foreign diplomat might be handled. Dawnwood may be her old home and their new ally, but it would be foolish not to also consider it a threat. Especially since so many of the elves held humans, and her, in such high disregard.
“Of course,” Cypress said. “Next month marks the new year. A time for new beginnings and new friendships. An auspicious time to grow the connection between our homes. I think it will—”
Cypress stopped mid-sentence. Ahead of him, the Dawnwood elves had also stopped. Several were muttering to one another. Arche stepped up to Lyssa’s side, his spear and shield in hand.
Ahead of them, standing in the trench of two steep hills, was Figoritolos. He was shirtless, revealing long gashes and gouges across his torso, and was wielding two kopides, which he held at his sides.
“Lord Cypress,” Figoritolos called out. “I have found the vampire. She is under the protection of none other than the two life-traitors you walk beside.”
Cypress grew very still. Lyssa could see the muscles in his jaw clench and unclench as anger battled logic in his mind. At last, he turned his head toward Lyssa. In a low voice, he asked a single, horrible question.
“Is it true?”
The answer caught in Lyssa’s throat. If she lied, he would know, she had no doubt. She had never been good at lying. If she told the truth, it could put them on very dangerous ground with Dawnwood.
“The vampire is under my protection, Lord Cypress. Sworn to me by an Oath that she will not harm any sapient creature unless in her own defense. Any blame you must assign for that falls on me and me alone.”
Lyssa turned to see Arche holding the eye of her father. He spoke without hesitation, without fear.
“Consorting with the undead is a serious matter, human.” Her father’s voice was sharper than any blade. “Were you in my lands, you would be killed for this.”
“A wise elf once told me that a person should not be judged for what they are, but be given the opportunity to prove themselves through action.” Arche’s voice was calm and level, more confident than Lyssa had ever heard it.
Her father did not reply immediately. Figoritolos, however, did not appreciate being ignored for so long.
“I did battle with the monster inside the forest, Lord Cypress, though I regret to report she exists still. We traded wounds until I was forced to retreat into the light. Grant me four keen warriors and we shall hunt her until she plagues this land no further. Unless Myriatos wishes to continue the enabling of necromancy across the land, they should be thanking us for eliminating such evil.”
A shiver ran through Lyssa. She trusted Arche when he said the vampire wouldn’t hurt anyone, but was it truly right to let it live? It existed off the blood of others. It was a known necromancer, a practitioner of vile, debased arts. Its very existence was a threat. Wasn’t it better to remove such a threat to her people before anyone was injured or killed?
Arche shifted his weight beside her. She looked at him. His jaw was set, his eyes fixed on Fig. He was furious, but kept it contained – for the moment, at least. He was waiting for something. For her, perhaps, to give the word. But what word was she to give? He, himself, had shielded her—and, by extension, Myriatos—from hostility. By choosing now, she could either honor that by assenting to the destruction of the vampire or stand by him and endanger her people by demanding its continued existence, an existence she wasn’t certain she agreed with.
Curse it all. Curse them all.
“I’m honor-bound to protect her, Lord Cypress. I cannot, in good conscious, allow your man to go after her.”
Once again, Arche was trying to save her from having to make the difficult decision. Perhaps he would be excluded from her curses, but his efforts, no matter how well-intentioned, were not enough for her.
“Figoritolos is chasing the vampire on your order, is he not?” she asked her father.
“He is.”
Lyssa stole another glance at Arche. He met her eyes this time and, in them, she felt his trust.
“Arche is an extension of my authority and acts on behalf of Myriatos with my full consent,” she said. “If he is honor-bound to defend this creature, then he does so with my support.”
Her father’s face darkened into an unreadable mask. For several moments, he was quiet. When he spoke, his voice had the dead weight of someone who knew they had no choice.
“Dawnwood law on this matter is clear. Arche must submit to an honor-duel. If he refuses, Dawnwood will have no choice but to rescind all offer of friendship with Myriatos. War is the only foreseeable outcome of that.”
Her father spoke in elvish, so Lyssa whispered the translation to Arche. He met her father’s eyes and nodded.
“I accept.”