“You aren’t Linara.”

These were the first words Ferene heard the general say. She didn’t know what she expected, but the statement caught her completely off guard. Hesitating, she stared upwards, unsure how to respond.

“I’m Ferene.”

The massive Hatharen frowned, brow furrowing at this new information.

“Inside the tent.”

The two stepped into the tent, and Ferene’s eyes were immediately drawn to two fixtures. The first a massive suit of armor, black plates of metal standing in the shape of a person. The sleek curves gave it a different presence than the brighter, bulky, rounded armor of the soldiers outside. The second item was the sword hanging vertically, alone, on a rack. Like the armor, the blade was made of black metal, the one-sided blade offset from the hilt but curving upwards, with the back of it notched, a spike protruding. Both of these items felt wrong. They did not belong here, in the middle of the human lands.

The General sat down in a chair, the wooden frame creaking under the weight. Ferene turned, looking her host over properly. A plain white shirt hugged the General’s massive frame, revealing the muscles underneath. She was distracted as the massive woman grabbed a bag off the floor, pulling out a small book and flipping it open.

“The way Saral described you, I thought you were Linara. She’s the only half-human I know about. I don’t have anyone by the name of Ferene on my list. You are a half-human, aren’t you? Not just short?”

“Yes.” She replied, more confused now. “I-“

“Great. I’m Taradira Suladan - it was decided that someone of my position could not go around without a last name, so I was gifted one - General of Ettsgras, Hatharen Warden, Slayer of…” She suddenly frowned again, cutting herself off. “I forget what they ended up calling that thing. Wasn’t a great time. Regardless of my various titles, you can just call me Taradira. So, Ferene, what can I do for you? No, wait. Ferene, you have caused me a great deal of trouble. Except not really, but you need to think you have. I’ll take care of it, it doesn’t really sound like you made a lot of problems, you just need to be reminded not to break the rules. So, Ferene, don’t break the rules. Also since you aren’t in my book, I need to add you to it, so let me know what stronghold you came from and what your plans are while you are here.”

Ferene found her head spinning as she tried to keep up. “I-I just came from Yonthal.”

Taradira frowned again. “Yonthal rarely ever has contact with humans. What’s the story behind that?”

“I met Linara near Cefgras and she sent me that way. That was the first time I met a Hatharen.”

“Wait.” Taradira’s frown deepened, then she relaxed, looking thoughtful. “Let’s start over. Tell me your story, from the beginning.”

Ferene paused, remembering. It had been like this with Linara, but she hadn’t told her the whole story. She hadn’t told anyone the whole story. Even Rilya didn’t know - regret flooded her as she realized she couldn’t possibly tell Rilya all of it, and would have to rely on someone to translate for her. Shaking her head, she took a seat in a chair across from Taradira, and started to tell her story. All of it, from the beginning.

It was slow at first. Ferene stumbled, stopped, started all over again, only to falter and go back to the beginning, trying again. Taradira watched her, silently, red eyes widening at one detail, narrowing at another, her mouth twitching, often frowning. Ferene noticed that Taradira frowned a lot, but she never spoke, not during the story.

It slowly became easier. Ferene talked of her mother, then of the mine. She stumbled, hesitated, and quickly summarized her mother’s death. The woman got sick and died because nobody cared enough to fetch a doctor. Her body was dumped in the sediment-filled river that ran past the entrance to the mine. Even this short summary was difficult for Ferene to say.

She paused afterward, feeling guilty. She didn’t speak of how she begged the adults to save her, how she cried afterward, how she tried to fight the man that had carried the body out and been beaten in turn for doing so. She just gave the most basic explanation, then fell silent for a time. Her audience stayed equally silent, waiting, until finally she continued her story.

Ferene skipped other details of those times. It wasn’t important. She found an opportunity to kill the ringleader, and she ran away, leaving the followers to turn on themselves as they fought over who should take his place. She did not speak of her mistakes afterward, of how she failed to protect her only friend and watched his body swing from the gallows of the town closest to the mine. She talked of setting out on her own, with just her sword and her clothes. She talked of practicing swinging her sword for hours upon hours, until her muscles hurt, every day.

She talked about seeing a fight start in a tavern as one man accused another of picking his pockets, only to end up stabbed and dead on the floor. How she followed the killer afterwards, and killed him, taking his short sword and his armor for herself. How she immediately ran into his comrades and had to kill them as well. She did not tell Taradira how she felt doing that. How she wanted them all to die, how she wanted to die herself, how she hated everything. How that hate drove her. She talked of the years she spent doing the same things, but not of the feelings she held. That didn’t matter. Those were hers, and hers alone. For now.

She spoke of the soldiers in the crossing, of being captured, of meeting Linara. She spoke of them working together, and being told to go north, but also the warnings that she should not go there. She spoke of the Direag - that made Taradira’s eyes go wide - and meeting the Hatharen that would very shortly become her family. Her fight with Ilraghen, the first few days in the stronghold, the skirmish to the north, the return. She talked about Tahrean and Relgren, and being brought before the council, and having to leave. In her memory, it felt like so much time, but talking about it now, it was so short. Those few weeks involved more emotion than she had experienced in entire years, but she did not tell Taradira that.

Finally, she talked of meeting Velan, coming here, and killing the man outside the brothel. How she ended up in this very tent. That was all of it, the whole story, from the beginning, with all the details left out. Ferene tried to imagine that it was Rilya she was talking to, and thought that it would be so easy to say all the things she didn’t, to cry as she exposed herself. Taradira was not Rilya, so Ferene found herself unable to say any of those things. She did not lie in her story, but she never once told the full truth. She knew that Taradira knew.

“I need to see your dagger.”

At the end of all of it, those were Taradira’s words. Ferene found herself unsure how to respond, but pulled the requested item out from her jacket and handed it over.

Unsheathing the blade, Taradira held the black metal up to the light from the lantern hanging from a tent pole. “You don’t know this, but each of these is custom made, specifically for the one who carries it. They serve as both proof of who you are, and where you come from, but also tell a part of your life’s story.”

“What does mine say?” Ferene watched Taradira flip the blade over, inspecting both sides. She had not seen anything like that on it, but didn’t look too closely.

“It tells me that what you just told me and what you told the people of Yonthal is the same story. You were raised by humans in the human lands and were taken in by them. I’m going to add you to my book with that information.”

That was the second time the General had mentioned the book. “What is the book?”

“A list of details on all the Hatharen living in human lands. As the Warden, it’s my duty to keep track of them all. That’s why I thought you were Linara when my men described you. Anyone staying in the human lands is supposed to report to me, so if anyone comes looking for them, I know where they can be found.”

Ferene’s eyes locked onto the small book. The information she needed was there. The reason she came here - not because of Velan, but because of her father.

“Do you want to see it?”

Ferene shook her head. “I can’t read. Human or Hatharen. But I need to find someone. Selveren, from Treventhal.”

“This is the one that might be your father?” Taradira flipped a page. “I do have information on Selveren here.” She said after a moment of reading.

“Where is he?”

Closing the book, Taradira frowned, then smiled. “It is a long journey, and the two of us have only just met. I’d like to get to know you better. It is not often that I get guests like yourself. If you do some work for me, I’ll give you the information you want.”

After a long silence, emotions rolling through her, Ferene nodded. Taradira smiled in response, her face lighting up. “Excellent! I’ll get you a place to sleep, and get you to work tomorrow.”

Ferene spent the night in an army tent, with an army bedroll. While she couldn’t call it nice, it felt right. Nowhere close to the unfamiliar softness of the beds at the inns, and harder than the bed she shared with Rilya back in Yonthal, the sack was filled with straw and felt like sleeping on straw. She liked it.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Waking up to a cacophony of noise, Ferene got dressed and stepped out of her small tent into a rush of life. The entire camp was awake, soldiers walking this way and that, setting up breakfast, running in groups, even some already sparring with each other, the clashing of metal on metal adding to the noise of everything else. Weaving her way through it all, she went back to the center, finding Taradira towering over a massive wooden table, bigger than the tent she slept in, surrounded by older men. Ferene saw them pointing at various things on overlapping maps spread across the surface.

Eventually, Taradira noticed her, stepping away from the group. “There you are. Ready to help out?”

“Yes.” Ferene didn’t feel ready, but went along with it anyway. Something about Taradira made it hard not to.

“Perfect.” She slapped Ferene on the shoulder, then called back to the group around the table. “Alref, get over here.”

One of the older humans also stepped away, approaching the two Hatharen. He frowned at the two of them, his gray eyebrows pulling together. “Yes, General?”

“I’m giving you this one to help with that farmer problem you mentioned the other day. An outsider should help clear things up. Go get it taken care of.” Patting her on the shoulder again, Taradira strode back to the table, leaving Ferene alone with Alref. The gray-haired man glared up at her.

“Come here then.” He said sharply, turning and walking away. Ferene followed. “Farmland surrounding the city belongs to the king, and the farmers rent it. Bit further out, it’s owned independently. We want to buy out the land to the west of the capitol to prepare for war, but one family doesn’t want to leave.”

Ferene found herself frowning, trying to understand. “What’s the problem?”

“King tells the General to get the land. General tells me to take care of it. I send an offer. Farmers say no. Need them to say yes. Go talk to them. Find out how to deal with it. You have two days to get it done.” The man seemed annoyed with her. “Follow this river all the way down to the bend, about a half day’s walk. Third farm there is the one you want. Deal with it. General’s orders. Not sure how a non-human is going to convince them of anything that we can’t but she trusts you and everyone trusts her, for some reason.”

Ferene nodded and started walking, wanting to get away from the man. After she was sure she wasn’t being watched, she broke into a run. Ferene specialized in running, and wasn’t going to stick to the estimation of a half-day’s walk, especially when she hadn’t eaten. Maybe the farmers would have something for her to eat.

Gentle hills topped with neat rows of crops rolled passed her as she followed the river through a valley that wove between them. A far cry from the rough, flat plains of the Independent Lands, the vibrant green crops spoke to fertile land, the small farmsteads dotting the view looking peaceful. She found it hard to think that this land was on the verge of war.

Rather than half a day, Ferene arrived at a drastic bend in the river after a few hours of running, the sun still shining from the east. The land flattened out as the river widened as it sharply turned south. Slowing her pace, Ferene leisurely walked down the riverbank, keeping an eye on the farmsteads she walked past.

The third one after the bend was quite a ways down the river, a large house situated in the middle of a large field. Nobody called out to Ferene as she approached, walking through the gaps in the fields right up to the stairs on the front porch. Before she could step up, she heard a giggle from the other side of the house.

Walking around the building, she arrived behind the house to the sound of more giggling, finding a young man and woman running through lines of hanging clothes. The woman was waving a blue piece of cloth over her head as she ran, giggling madly as the man, shirtless, ran after her. Ferene watched them for a few seconds before banging her fist against the side of the house, drawing their attention.

The young woman stopped running, and the man immediately grabbed his shirt back, quickly tossing it on as they turned to look at Ferene. “Ello, miss. Can we help ya?”

“I’m…doing a favor for a friend. I think.” She tried to smile. At the very least, she avoided scowling at them. “I’m told that the king wants to buy your land. Or…something like that. I’m not entirely sure.” After telling Taradira everything last night, speaking to these two should be easy.

Their smiles faded as they looked at each other. “Let’s talk inside.” The woman said.

Despite the size, the house was sparsely furnished. The main room had a single table pushed to the side, and a chest-high cabinet filled with small trinkets. The fireplace’s mantle was bare, and a lot of open floor and wall space made the place look sad and empty. Ferene got the sense that at one time, more than just these two lived here, but those times were long behind the building.

“You’re here to try to convince us to leave, then?” The woman asked, sitting down in a plain chair at the table, gesturing for Ferene to sit across from her.

“I was told that I need to get you to say yes to the offer. I don’t know what the offer is.” Ferene wasn’t sure how she was supposed to accomplish her goal like this. “Maybe you can explain the entire situation to me.”

The woman looked up at her friend - her husband? - and got a shrug in return. Nodding, she turned back to Ferene. “My name is Ameila Lilian. This land was gifted to my great grandfather many years ago, by a previous king. It is my land. The current king wants it back. I’m not much more than an educated farmer, but I’m not giving it up. If he takes it by force he will alienate his more wealthy subjects, and that is not something he can afford right now.”

“Why does he want it?” Ferene asked.

“Needs all the land around the river for something. He can do whatever he wants with the rest of it, but this gifted land is different. Can’t take it away the way he can with the other subjects.”

“What did he offer you in exchange?”

Ameila laughed. Unlike her giggles from before, there was a harshness to her laughter. An anger. “The offer was one of two choices. A house in the city, or money.” She looked up at the man again, as he stood leaning against the near wall. “My family built this house. I want to fill it again. With children and friends. This is my family’s land and I’m not giving it up.”

Ferene nodded. She didn’t understand any of that. “So your answer is no.”

“That’s right. The three of us aren’t going anywhere.”

“Three?” Ferene asked.

Ameila frowned. “I hired a helper not too long ago. He’s off fixing a fence on the north side this morning. Should be back soon. It’s my decision though. This is my home and these two strays are under my protection.”

“Don’ call me a stray.” The man mumbled.

Ferene sighed. “Sounds like this isn’t as easy as I was told it would be.”

Amelia looked at her. “So, what’s with the ears? You really one of those?”

“My father is. My mother wasn’t.”

“So, if working for the king doesn’t pan out for you, want a job here on the farm?”

“No.” Ferene shook her head. This woman was strange. “I’m not working for the king. Someone else is, and I’m doing them a favor. Just passing through.”

Ameila’s reply was cut off by the sound of the door opening. “Garvin, you told me the fence needed to be repaired, you didn’t say it was leaning over sideways. I can’t fix it without the proper tools. Did my best, but I’ll have to back out there.” A loud voice carried into the room.

“Fixin a fence is fixin a fence.” The man by the wall hollered back towards the entrance.

Ameila rolled her eyes. “Come in here! We have a guest. Introduce yourself properly.”

Ferene turned at the sound of footsteps and suddenly froze, her eyes going wide. The man standing in the door frame was equally transfixed, his eyes locked onto hers.

“Ferene?” Tullund said, finally stepping into the room. “What are you doing here?”

“You know this one? Good. She’s got caught up with the king and is here to tell us to take the money.”

Ferene couldn’t speak. She knew it had only been a few months, but with everything that happened, it felt like so much longer, but Tullund looked almost no different from when they had parted ways. She never expected to see him again.

“She’s the one I told you about. The one that helped me.”

Garvin suddenly stood straight up. “The one that killed all them bandits? Her? The one that slit their throats?”

“Yeah, that one.”

Ameila’s lips pressed together as she looked from Tullund to Ferene. Ferene looked at her, then down at the table.

“Well, forget about all of that. Ferene, how about joining us here on the farm? I know you didn’t like-“

“The king sent a murderer here, Tullund, you giant idiot!” Ameila cut him off, raising to her feet.

Ferene suddenly felt the lack of any weapons aside from the dagger in her jacket.

“No, Ferene isn’t like that. This has to be a misunderstanding. Ferene, tell her it’s all a misunderstanding.”

“I never met the king.” Ferene said, keeping her voice level. “The General wants the issue resolved. I’m doing this for her. If she wanted to kill you, there’s thousands of soldiers camped outside the capital.”

That seemed to calm Ameila down slightly. Tullund stepped towards her, smiling reassuringly. “Let me talk to her alone. I’ll figure this out.”

She met his eyes, holding his gaze for a moment while she bit her lower lip. “Fine.” She finally relented. Tullund gestured for Ferene to follow him and walked into a second room. Following him in, Ferene found it to be similar to the main one, just smaller. Sparsely decorated, a long, low couch in front of a bare table, with two large armchairs on the other side. Neither of them sat down.

“How’d you end up here?” Tullund asked.

Pressing her lips together, Ferene took a moment to think. “I met the Hatharen people.” She exhaled after several moments.

“Oh.” Tullund smiled, then frowned. “Did you like them?”

Ferene shrugged back. “Some of them are fine. I had to leave. They told me to come here, and I found another. The King’s General. She knows where a person who might be my father is. But she wanted me to help her solve this problem first.”

It took him a short time to absorb that information. “I’m not sure how you can get what you want. Ameila won’t give up the property.”

“Tell me about her.” Ferene asked. She didn’t know where to start, but that seemed like the best place.

“She’s young but smart. She has responsibilities that put pressure on her and she handles it well. She likes stories, I’ve seen her reading a lot. She likes to laugh. She forces herself to be serious and sometimes overdoes it.”

“And the other one? Garvin?”

“Hired hand, just like me.”

“They get along well.”

Tullund let out a small laugh. “Ameila wants a storybook life. She wants to be the rich lady that takes in a poor farmer and they fall in love.”

Ferene looked away from Tullund, remembering a dream she had, months ago. “Both of you?”

She didn’t see his reaction. “I…do my best to play along.”

The two fell into silence. Tullund drew a loud breath. “Why don’t you help us out here for a bit? Show Ameila that you aren’t here to threaten us. Maybe you can go back and convince your General that there can be other solutions. You know how to do basic chores, right?”

“I do.” Ferene nodded. It seemed like a good plan. Anything seemed like a better plan than her complete lack of ideas.