Nostra Turrem Circumstant
Et Norsti Agrem Destruunt
Falehiem contemplated the corpse before him and sighed deeply. Though it was only a dead and fallen tree he stared at, the implications were many and troublesome.
As an Aequendar who had lived for centuries, Falehiem had the wisdom of generations of men and his mind whirled as he considered dark thoughts from past to present. This tree had appeared healthy on the outside but, from within, it was rotted and infested by termites. A familiar scenario, he thought bitterly.
His face contorted with thought, his already narrow eyes slit further and his flat nose and cheeks paled as he gazed down at the rotted tree and walked along its fallen trunk. He brushed a strand of his long white hair behind his large, rounded ear, a piece that had escaped the ribbon that tied it into a top knot and stared hard at the trunk. It would have fallen naturally from its decay in time. It had not. Its base was jagged and cut before it had fallen and split open like a bloated corpse. Someone had cut it down.
Falehiem’s long cloak swirled about him. His shirt and breeches were simple wool, and his tabard a mixture of brown and green velvet to match the forest. He continued to follow the trail to more trees that had been felled. Soon, a whole clearing stood before him where half of the trees had been hewn down by axes, chopped up, and pulled away. Falehiem’s eyes flashed with anger and sadness as he studied the ancient trunks, existing since his youth, gone in a single day of violence and destruction. “They have gone too far.”
“Lord Falehiem.” The Aequendar captain of the guard approached from behind Falehiem, similar in features and clothing save for his more youthful, black hair. He bowed his head, placing his arm across his chest. “We have found the humans.”
“What have they done now?” he asked, resignation tingeing his voice. He knew the news wouldn’t be good.
“You need to see, my lord.”
It was not long before Falehiem crouched atop a hill, hidden amongst trees, as he stared down at the ruined town of Firbalt which belonged to the Elfin. Their homes, small and robustly built into the forest, were smoking and looted, the bodies of those who had not fled fast enough lying in contorted positions across their village. The humans below wore different clothes. Some were Aquillan soldiers in their scaled armor and with large shields. Others wore simple tunics and protective leather indicating they were workmen. All were looting the bodies and homes.
Falehiem stood slowly, seeming to care little if the men below saw him or not. The Aequendar who accompanied him stood beside him as well. “What are your orders?”
Falehiem closed his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to maintain control of his emotions. Nothing can cause harm except what you believe within. He opened his eyes, staring down at the Aquillans below with a measured gaze. “I believe that prudence is always key. But, in this case…give them the same opportunity they gave the Elfin. If they are fast enough to escape, they live.”
“Of course, my lord,” said the Guard captain, his face betraying no emotion at the announcement. At a gesture, figures began to emerge from the trees, seeming to appear from the forest itself in their green and brown clothing.
Falehiem nodded at the statement. Perhaps he was not being entirely fair. While a spry Elfin could escape a human, it was all but impossible for a human to escape an Aequendar.
The deed was carried out with precision and swift efficiency. The Aquillans never saw the Aequendar until it was too late. One of the workers removing a body made a half yell which turned into a gurgle as Falehiem’s slender blade slashed through his throat. Falehiem stared down at the dead human, eyes wide with surprise in his last moment of terror. Beside him was the body of an Elfin, appearing much like an Aequendar but smaller, barely three feet tall, stouter, and flatter-faced than he. The little Elfin’s innocent face was puzzled as if not quite understanding how death by sword worked, and he had struggled to figure out what his pain meant before he died. Falehiem lifted his gaze and continued forward.
Around him, the Aequendar drew bows, twirled long spears, and raised shields as they charged among the Aquillans with deadly proficiency. Their armor was simple leather, their tabards like Falehiem’s, a mixture of patchy colors to match the forest but fit tightly, allowing nothing to catch on the undergrowth. The Aquillan soldiers didn’t stand a chance as they were scattered about looting. They had not expected an attack from the forest and had dispersed, breaking the formation that made them the most effective soldiers in the world or so was their claim. Aequendar were trained to fight as a cohesive unit and as individuals. Long life and fitter bodies allowed them to perfect their fighting forces, no matter how small their numbers were.
The Aequendar whirled among the soldiers slashing, stabbing, and twirling as soldiers crumbled. Workers fled in all directions but could not escape the deadly accuracy of the archers on the cliff above who pinned them in their chests, abdomens, or necks. In just a few moments, the Aquillans were in full flight with the Aequendar pursuing them. Falehiem approached the commander who called on his men to stand but, seeing them flee, turned to face Falehiem with desperate anger. “Gods curse you,” he spat.
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“Tell them yourself,” was Falehiem’s response in Aquillan as he whirled his sword in a flurry of blows that detached the man’s grasp from his shield, sword, and head.
Falehiem stared about at the bodies now strewn across the clearing that had once been a peaceful village of Elfin, living their innocent lives. He cleaned his sword on a corpse tunic, sheathed it, and bowed his head, a tear leaking out from his closed lid as he muttered under his breath.
A gasp of a man choking from the side drew his attention. The sound cut off as Falehiem turned to see a young man lying prone, desperately playing dead. His quickening pulse and flickering eyelids betrayed him almost instantly and the Aequendar lord approached him. The young man panicked and went for his sword but had his wrist stepped on by Falehiem. He groaned in pain as the Aequendar pressed down on it and leaned forward.
As he gazed into the eyes, filled with tears, he saw in the young soldier an innocence he hadn’t expected. This man was barely out of boyhood. This likely had been his first assignment. His worn and tired face might have had tears even before this unfortunate turn. Did men still weep over the death of others, even non-humans? Was this not just a woodcutting patrol that had been doing what they always did, cutting trees to support themselves, and had accidentally come upon an Elfin village? No doubt, one report to the commander of the nearby post had led the soldiers here and the commander, a man of cruel nature, had ordered the village sacked and destroyed along with its inhabitants...all for sport.
Falehiem had thoughts rushing through his head as the young man beneath his feet struggled to breathe through his sobbing but seemed adamant about refusing to beg for his life. Perhaps he didn’t think they could even speak his language. The fury and fire drained out of Falehiem and he sighed again, closing his eyes. They have gone too far. “It must end.”
The young man appeared startled that Falehiem had spoken though he couldn’t understand the Aequenda words himself. “W…w…what?”
Falehiem removed his foot from the man’s arm and put a hand down. “Come.”
The man appeared even more startled that Falehiem had spoken in his language and he shrank back. “I will not hurt you,” said Falehiem. “Now come. I have a task for you.”
The attack was over as quickly as it had begun. The Aequendar now sorted through the dead Aquillans, piling them up to burn their bodies. The young man was the only Aquillan still alive, sitting on a bench across from Falehiem and shivering as he alternated his gaze from the Aequendar guarding him, the bloodied bodies of his comrades being dragged off, and the lord sitting calmly across from him.
Falehiem scribbled with a quill and ink on the parchment he had taken from the ruins and wrote with calm precision. Upon completion, he read the words in a whisper, breathing upon the paper with each statement as his presence filled the words. The young man soon grew anxious to the point of weariness and Falehiem put out a hand. “Calm yourself. We will not hurt you. I have a request for you.”
“What do you mean? Please…I am only a simple man.”
“And a simple man is what I need,” said Falehiem. “Smart men would only complicate the matter. What is your name, simple man?”
“Fabianus.”
With a whispered breath, he folded the parchment, took the ribbon from his hair, letting his shoulder-length hair fall to either side of his neck, and tied it about the message to keep it shut. “Well, Fabianus, you are to deliver this before the senate yourself, in person.”
Fabianus’s eyes widened even further. “What?! I can’t go before the council. It would be forbidden for one of my station.”
“You will,” said Falehiem. “And when they choose the envoys to send, you will tell them to go to the Carxandrian docks. I will be waiting there with a ship.”
“I can’t…” said Fabianus, his whole body shaking. “I will never get into the Senate without an appointment. It would be a death sentence for me!”
Falehiem approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. “It will not rest assured. You will be protected.”
With a glance skyward and a deep breath, he breathed on the thumb of his right hand and pressed it against the petrified man’s forehead. He did not recoil at the touch but remained transfixed as if feeling something suffuse his body from the touch. He fell back as the thumb was removed from his forehead. “None shall harm you while you are marked,” said Falehiem. “Now go and do my bidding. I insist that influential young men from the greatest families come and be part of the delegation. Remind them of this when they read the letter so that they might send their finest.”
Fabianus nodded numbly. Falehiem stared at him a moment longer, his eyes sparkling with amusement at the dumbfounded look still on the man’s face. “Well…on your way. You have a long journey before you.”
As Fabianus nodded, the young man stumbled away, walking carefully past the Aequendar with care. As he reached the edge of the tree line, he looked back one last time at Falehiem who smiled and nodded at him, raising a hand in farewell. Fabianus returned it, confused, then picked up his pace into the trees.
The Aequendar behind Falehiem approached and said coldly, “We shall not see him again.”
“Not so,” responded Falehiem. “I have seen his heart and given him a blessing. He will do as I have asked.”
“Even so,” responded the Aequendar, “What makes you think the arrogant Aquillans will heed your letter and come to sign a treaty.”
“More than a treaty. I would see the youth of their country and see if there is any hope for their future. But this is not for them to know. All they must know is that I have offered them something they cannot resist.” He looked back at the retreating figure disappearing into the trees.
“I have offered them a taste of power and a peek into our world.”