Talla

It was over quickly.

Talla and the humans panicked for different seasons. They panicked because they were being attacked, she panicked because a Deathless Elf should not have been allowed to roam this far into the Stormlands. Thoughts of concern and whose doorstep the blame would be laid upon clouded her until the creature had been subdued with a heavy set of chains—but only after failed attempts at killing it. It took three thrusts through the heart and one through the skull until panic gave way to reason and they remembered: Deathless Elves cannot be killed.

Silence was king for a long while. None spoke, and the only sound was the rattling of the chains as the wounded undead struggled about in a mindless, furious attempt. They would have to stuff him in a chest soon.

“I can’t believe this,” muttered one of the guards. He was a tall man wearing a full set of armor aside from a helmet, which he carried beneath his armpit. Not their captain, but likely a veteran from the way others deferred to him. “Going to the Woodlands and get attacked by one of their undead fucks before we are even out of the Stormlands. Unbelievable.”

He shot a sad look at the coachman’s bloodied corpse, then turned his gaze back to the chained Deathless corpse with disgust. “Fucking useless elf.” With a sudden start he pulled his leg back and shot it forward, kicking the Deathless in the stomach and making it squirm on the ground. The other grounds approved of this, some laughing, others outright cheering. “Can’t even die right.” He kicked it again. More cheering, more laughter.

“Stop!” Talla cried out. The creature had been reduced to that state, but he was still her compatriot. She could not bear to witness that disgrace. “He may be a lost cause, but a prisoner should be treated with respect.”

“Prisoner? We don’t imprison monsters, milady.” Yet more laughs. The guard walked toward her and for the first time since coming to the Stormlands Talla felt a stark reminder—her kind wasn’t liked here. Or anywhere. More tolerated here, perhaps, but the resentment was still there. “If we can’t kill it, might as well bury it alive. Don’t think it can get out if we bury it deep enough.”

“Don’t you dare!” Talla cried out in horror. “Even if he lost his mind, making him suffer like that is—it’s beyond inhumane!”

“Good thing that ain’t human then, eh milady?” The guard laughed. It was almost—but not quite—a sneer.

Talla had heard of that horrifying practice of burying Deathless Elves to keep them from being an issue. It sent her chills down her spine to imagine that happening to her countrymen—to imagine that it could one day happen to her. To hear it suggested so casually among people she had laughed with only a few short hours before…One life is gone. That’s all it takes to make them act like this. Their friend is dead and they want revenge.

“That is not what we will do.” Von’s voice was quiet and commanding. He rose from beside the coachman’s corpse and his expression was colder than the snow around us. “We will take the Deathless Elf back to Bosque, where he belongs. It is our sworn duty to return lost citizens to their Princedom.”

The guard appeared somewhere between baffled and offended. “You can’t be serious, milord. Are you saying we should bring back that thing to Bosque with us? After he killed—”

“I am.” Von’s voice was firmer than Talla had ever heard it. “If we do not have him with us, the elders are likely to say our claim is without merit. Let us bring him so that they can provide compensation.”

The guard spat on the ground. “Compensation?” The notion of gold appeared to offend him. “Is coin supposed to bring ‘im back to life? Have the bloody tree-corpses started to fancy alchemy, eh? We need some fucking heads to roll, if you ask me.”

Von stepped forward and looked the guard in the eye. He was shorter than the armored man, and yet it was the guard who stepped back. “Will you tell that to Jonathan’s younger brother, a boy of thirteen, who will now have to provide for his sisters?” There was a fury in his voice now. “Bosque swore to keep the Deathless out of our lands. They failed, and they shall pay for it.”

“But honor—“

“Our friend’s corpse is yet warm and you speak of spilling more blood. Do not speak to me about honor when you show yourself lacking.” Von did not give the man permission to speak further. He whirled around and said in a commanding voice, “Captain Diego—send a raven to my brother. Write to him of our situation and my decision. Talla, when is the next storm?”

She was surprised to be addressed at all. “It’s—if what the Stargazers predicted before we left is accurate, in half-hour to an hour.”

Von nodded slowly. “Then we shall wait.” He paced back to stand beside Jonathan the coachman’s corpse. “Jonathan was a good man and he died doing his job. It is our job to deliver him back to the Storm Gods.”

Gone was the fervent hatred they had shown a moment before. The solemness said to belong to every winterman made its appearance then and one by one the guards nodded slowly. “Aye,” said the armored guard in a low voice, “it shall be done. To the Storm Gods. Jonathan deserves it.”

For the first time since Talla had seen him, there was nary a sign of hesitation upon the man. Von of Redgrave stood proud as the Lord of Stormkeep, his wintersheep skin wrapped around him and hiding both blade and arms from the outside world. He needed no weapon to make his words commanding, only his presence. He almost feels like a different person. Yet this was not what the Von of the Past behaved like either. This was something else.

“Talla, we will be out in the cold for a while. Wait inside the carriage, if you will.” This was a command and of that she had no doubt—but he called her by her name and made sure there was some warmth in his voice. She was surprised to even find the hint of a gentle smile there. He is worried about me as well…with the Deathless Elf situation. Even now.

“Aye, I will do as you command,” she replied, bowing formally. Then, as she walked past him, she whispered in his ear, “You are strong, Von.”

“Thank you,” he muttered back to her, and at that moment his voice seemed to be trembling. In his commanding voice once more, she heard him announce, “Get your thickest coats out and prepare a fire near the circle so there are no more corpses for the storms to bury. The night will be long and cold.”

Talla watched the process from the carriage’s window full of wonder. The Storm Gods…aside from the elves the Stormlands are the only ones who don’t accept the King of Princes’ religion. It was odd. The Ironlands were also a human princedom and much more populous than the Stormlands at that, yet it knew the correct gods, as did any human who lived among in any of the other lands.

Humans came to this land just a few hundred years ago. Most integrated with the others, but the Stormlands was the last princedom to bend the knee to the King of Princes. It had taken even longer for the King in the Storm to surrender his own title of king and accept ‘prince’ as a replacement. Sometimes I wonder…what did those humans see in the storm to make them the way they are?

They knelt down in a circle around the corpse, as if before a lord. All drew their swords and stabbed the ground beneath their feet. A few words were muttered, too distant for Talla to overhear. The window was fogged up now and it was hard to make out what was happening. Yet she was sure none of them moved for hours, even as heavy snow started to fall.

One by one, the soldiers left, with many minutes between their departures. They would bow one last time to the body then retreat to their warm tents, pausing only to place a hand on Von’s shoulder. One by one they did this, until only Von was left.

He remained out there for at least two hours.

“Here, you must be cold. ” Talla offered some warm tea when Von came into the cabin many hours later. “Will the guards be fine? You were standing in the cold for long.”

“Men of the storm are tough. Besides, we made a fire first…they will be warming up until morning.” Von did not look her in the eye, but she could see the haunted look on his face. “Storms in these lands are not like what you think, my fair—Talla. Jonathan’s body will be returned to the Storm Gods before the snow melts or an animal finds him.” He paused. “It was my first time leading a burial in the storms.”

“It seemed…difficult.” Talla wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t a part of their culture traveling bards talked about, and there was hardly much written about it in books. “Are you well?”

“I have been to one before.” There was something almost feverish about his tone. Being outside in the snow for that long couldn’t be good for anyone. “When my father executed my brother.”

This she had heard about, albeit only vaguely. Stories of a Redgrave heir who was executed by the honorable Ven Redgrave circled wildly, but the details eluded someone stuck in their ruined city for most of her life. “I am sorry. That must have been difficult.”

“Father—father said a lord should take responsibility for their title. That if you bear the name and live in Stormkeep you must be willing to make hard decisions and live through them. It scared me…after seeing my brother die.”

“It scared you,” Talla asked, as kindly as she could, “that you might be killed one day?”

Von shook his head. “That I might have to be the one doing the killing.” His breath became heavier and he covered his eyes with the back of his coat sleeves. “I did not want to make those decisions. There are times when there is no right call. When I was small, I used to daydream of being a kind lord. There is no such thing.”

“But you are,” Talla told him. “Someone who sheds tears over a servant’s death and blood over an accursed elf who claims guestright must have a kind heart.”

He laughed. “What of my intentions? Who cares if I want to be kind? Tell me this, what am I supposed to do about the Deathless Elf? Bosque is lacking in coin. Demanding payment over Jonathan’s death will mean taking away coin that could go somewhere else—somewhere like ensuring more Deathless Elves don’t escape. Maybe repairing your town. Maybe they don’t have the coin, but they will have to give it to us. Yet if I don’t demand it, it would dishonor Jonathan’s death. My men would grow furious. The fragile peace between the Six Princedoms is always at risk. Were I to do nothing, mayhap we would find ourselves competing with the dwarves to see who can knock at your gates faster. I do not want anyone to die. I do not want any fighting, except for duels—yet what can I accomplish there? Champion I might become, honor I might bring, but this will not feed your people, bring back the dead, or stop princedoms from warring each other. My blade can only bring about satisfaction, not solution."

Talla was surprised. She had been certain someone was reluctant and sheltered as Von never thought of matters such as these. Yet he had been concerned about the same things she had been when the Deathless Elf attacked. No. More than that. He was concerned with her people as well as his. For someone who called himself a lazy, cowardly lord…Von thought a lot. Maybe too much.

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“Lord Father always told me—that a lord must bear the weight of their luxuries. I didn’t.” She noticed here he was sweating heavily. The time outside must have taken a toll on him. ”I stayed in my room. I didn’t want to deal with that. With the cold. With the decisions. I just stayed inside my room and read my books. No one told me otherwise. They called me weak. They called me for the shame of my family that I was. That much I could bear. I could not bear…”

He stopped talking and Talla moved toward his bench to sit beside him. Such was his state that he didn’t appear flustered when she wrapped a blanket around them both and pulled him close. He appeared conscious, but only just. Talla gently pulled him onto her chest, brushing his hair slightly and gesturing at him to pull his legs up onto the bench to lay against her. “It was a long night for you,” she whispered, “you did well. You were an excellent lord and bore the weight of your responsibilities. You can rest now.”

These words appeared to have an effect on him, and she could feel some tension leave his body as he fell asleep.

Von

A few days later they arrived at Bosque without issue. None of the guards created much of an issue and even issued an empty apology toward Talla for their behavior earlier. Empty, because they don’t regret their feelings, but they do regret directing it at her. It was almost funny. They were not fond of elves, but they did not dislike Talla. Mayhap if they met others...maybe after this trip, we could organize cultural trips between Stormhelm and Bosque for the red-blood folk.

Dream for a clear sky, that one.

Now they found themselves at Bosque’s gates. Mighty stone gates, those. Made by Balente the Dwarf, a thousand years before the first humans came to this world. A long time ago. Long enough that dwarves were friends with elves. Despite this, the mighty stone gates still appeared to hold strong. Cracks had appeared, edges had been chipped, yet the tall stone stood tall still. A gate that had lasted at least a thousand years and would last a thousand more.

He stood ahead of his entourage, leading it on horseback as it was customary for arrivals.

“Von of House Redgrave, Von of Vance, Second Lord of Stormkeep, Second Lord of the Storms, announces his arrival!” he thundered. My noble house, my noble brother who leads the house, my status as second in line for Stormkeep, my status as second in line for the title of Lord of the Storms, have I forgotten anything? He hadn’t. Yet it didn’t feel right. “First Disciple of Master Cycle, Seventh Place in Blade Valley! I demand audience with the Elders.”

The gates opened. They would have opened regardless of what he said, yet it felt right to witness those mighty gates creek open after the last proclamation. He rode forward, slowly, and took it all in.

Talla had not been exaggerating. It was evident that they tried to make the main entrance as presentable as possible, but even from there he could see the roughness lurking behind every corner. Wooden houses, most of them, and many abandoned—reclaimed back by nature, trees bursting out of rooftops and vines tangled around broken windows. It had been cleaned up as best as they could, but they could not hide the eerie quietness that came with it all. This city is larger than Stormhelm. So many complicated streets…yet I feel as though Stormhelm houses more people.

“This way, my lord,” said a young looking elf. Probably older than my grandfather would be. He gestured to his horse’s tack. “It is a complicated set of streets ahead. May I—?”

“Aye.” Von nodded. “Please.”

He tossed the horse’s reins to the elf on the ground and held on to the saddle. Streets ahead of them were similarly clean but there was hardly a living soul on them. I wonder how Talla is feeling right now from inside the carriage. This was a ghost town, hastily given the feeling of a fabricated life for the sake of impressing its visitors. The elf on the ground guided his horse so that Von would only see what they had managed to put together into a presentable route.

“The council waits for you, my lord.”

Von nodded and looked behind him. His guards dismounted and looked warily around themselves. They unloaded from the back of the carriage a shaking treasure chest—and Von hesitated. That is a matter for Von the Lord of Redgrave. And he was Lord of Redgrave wherever his brother was not present. For now, I must engage as Von the Swordsman—the Lord will come later. His guards nodded at him with the implicit promise not to cause trouble. Von waited a moment longer and walked up to the carriage, opening the door and extending his hand to its occupant. “My fair lady,” he began.

There was no response.

“My fair Talla,” he tried again.

She gave him her hand and accepted his help to jump down the tall carriage. Talla smiled encouragingly at him before letting go. More worried about me than herself when entering her city. She worries too much. Then, Talla nodded at the once Great Tree, now hollowed out into the Green Hall of Bosque and grimaced. “It is rather unfair that a human gets to see the inside of the green hall before me. No offense.”

“None taken.” He frowned. “You have not seen its insides?”

“Our kind is rather traditional about certain roles. I…am not allowed in there.”

Von nodded slowly. “Do you want to be?”

“Frankly, yes, but not because I care much about the place—only because they say I’m not allowed there.”

Von nodded again, this time appearing more pleased. “Very well. Come in with me.” He tapped the side of her shoulder and started walking toward the door. “Let us not keep them waiting.”

“My—my lord!” the guide elf cried. “She is not allowed in there. Only the elders and the men bearing business with them—“

“Talla of Bosque claimed guestright in Stormkeep. She still now wears our wool, this morning ate our break, and yesterday drank our wine. And my guest is allowed to accompany me anywhere I please.” Von looked the elf in the eye. “Do you dispute that?”

“No,” he replied in a defeated tone. “No, my lord.”

The Lord of Redgrave turned around and resumed his walk, with Talla quickly catching up to him. “I would have preferred to get in on my own but…thanks. I appreciate it.” She paused. “You can be mighty commanding when you want to be.”

“When I have to,” Von muttered, shaking his head. “I do not like speaking like that. So I make sure I only have to do it once, and quickly.”

His father had taught him about responsibilities. Master Cycle had taught him that if you must do something you don’t enjoy, you do it as well as you possibly can so you can get back to doing what you actually want moments later. Just a few short weeks practicing with him and it already feels like a lifetime, Von thought fondly. I can’t wait to see him again after all of this and tell him all about it…I will hold him to the promise he made.

The pair went through the entrance and was met with a moment of darkness before the glowing moss guided them in the right path. Von smiled to see that Talla was looking around in confusion the same way he was. Until now one of them had always been aware of their surroundings and acted as a guide. It was fun to adventure into the unknown with her. Until Kai of Bosque showed up, of course.

“Talla,” he muttered, “it is good to see you.” His voice had a sort of ghastly quality to it, a sort of raspy, loud whisper as if it belonged to an old man. His scarred face almost fooled Von into mistaking him for an old man, but behind the scars and missing limb there was some measure of the smooth skin of a young man there. The man was missing his left leg below the knee, as well as his right arm, and held himself up with a wooden cane. “You were gone for a while. I was starting to think you wouldn’t come back.”

“Don’t be silly,” Talla replied warmly. “I wrote back to you. It just took a while until we were ready to leave Stormkeep.”

“It is my fault, my…”

‘My lord’ had been what Von wanted to say but he wasn’t sure if the title was correct. Elves did not use the word ‘lord’ and while he could get away with calling Talla ‘lady’ he did not think the man before him would accept a misuse of the term. “Forgive me, I do not know what title you prefer.”

Kai looked at Von disdainfully for a moment and said nothing. Then, ignoring him, he turned back to Talla. “Just a few weeks away and you come back wearing the clothes of a pavement walker.” He gestured with his head at Talla’s grey winter-sheepskin. The wool looked rather natural on her. “And breaking our sacred traditions to enter the Green Hall.” He shook his head. “It’s good you came back before you were poisoned further.”

“Poisoned?” Talla cried out. Then she shook her head and refocused. “Do not call him a pavement—Von of Redgrave has nobly agreed to aid us, as you yourself suggested!”

Von smiled to defuse the situation. “Call me what you will. It it is true my kind prefers paved stone to the snow.” He knew the real reason. This man looks like this after losing to Vandyr…Talla told me all about it. If I had lost to him, mayhap he would not be in this state he is in. Even if he thought Von was their best chance at salvation, there is no way he didn’t hate him. Bear the weight of being a lord, Von told himself. It wasn’t a nice feeling to be hated and much less for something he couldn’t remember. Even worse, he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. But he still understood it. “It is good to see you in good spirits after our last match.”

Kai spat on the ground. “Don’t patronize me. You don’t even remember me, human,” he snarled bitterly. “Insults hidden within—“

“Kai!” Talla cried out. “What is wrong with you? Bringing Von here was your—“

“VON OF REDGRAVE!” a new voice called out. “We accept your audience.”

Talla let out a hesitant sound, then walked up beside Kai and nodded at Von. “The Elders are waiting for you. We will come up behind you.”

Von nodded at the two and made an effort to smile politely at Kai as he shot him a disdained look. Pretend you haven’t noticed. Be polite. He walked forward toward the council and it felt as though walking toward a judgemental courtroom—the pathway led him to the middle of a circular table, surrounded on all sides by a set of four identically robed figures.

“Greetings—Elders of Bosque,” Von said. “Von of Redgrave comes here for our discussion.”

The First Elder spoke up. “You do not kneel before you speak?”

Steady my nerves. Be calm. “I am Second Lord of Stormkeep. My knees bend but to my brother and the King of Princes.”

In most other princedoms, being second in line meant not having a title at all. In the Stormlands, it meant you possessed the title except when the primary heir was around or had contrasting conflicts. Not every second son inherited the title of Second Lord, due to the history of wars this system had caused—it was a dormant system of an age long past. Yet Lord Ven of Redgrave had ordered it before his passing. “I come here in response to the request issued by Bosque. You wish for me to champion your cause and I accept.”

“For a heavy price,” said the Second Elder bitterly. “You ask for much coin, boy.”

This would not do. Von did not mind personal lack of respect, but here he represented his noble house. “I would do it for half,” Von said calmly. “I would do it for a quarter. I would do it for nothing aside from the honor of defending those who cannot defend themselves.” He let the implication of their incompetence hang in the air for the moment and hoped Talla would not take offense to this. “Yet those offers standing, you will refuse them in fear that I might ask the King of Princes for claim of your lands after saving them from disaster…and that he might agree to it. Do not lay the blame at my feet—it is your pride that costs you coin, not my steel.”

“Easy now, easy now,” the Third Elder started. He appeared like the most relaxed of the group. “We will not object to the price and we thank you for your service. Nonetheless, there is a small issue…that we hope you will be able to address.”

“Name it.”

“We have a new champion,” the Third Elder stated jovially. “If he is stronger than you now, there is no point in emptying our coffers for a foreign champion, is there?”

Talla smashed her fist against a wall. “You named a new champion?” she cried out. “That—that was going to be my title! I was next after Kai!”

Kai sighed. “It could never be yours, Talla.” He lifted his cane off the ground and placed his hand on her shoulder, as if to both reassure her and use her for support. “You are too gentle. We all have our place in nature, there is somewhere that better befits your kindness—“

She shook off his hand and nearly knocked the man over. Furiously, she stepped into the circle and stared at the Third Elder. “This is a bloody sham,” she cried out accusingly. Talla was breathing heavily, her fury punctuating every motion. “There needs to be a tournament to determine the new champion!”

“We held one,” the Third Elder replied, tilting his head to the side and smiling. “Just two weeks ago.”

Talla’s voice dropped but not her fury. When she spoke, her quiet tone betrayed an anger deeper than loudness. “You bastards,” she muttered. “You…you sent me to Stormkeep not just to get Von, but to get me out of Bosque.So you could hold your tournament and award the title of champion to—“

“Do not worry,” Von muttered, “they will relinquish the title soon.”

They all turned to look at him. “They can hardly allow their champion to keep their title after losing to a human after all, eh?” More inquisitive glances, and he smiled. Normally this would disquiet him, but he had prepared for this situation since before they left. “I figured this would happen. You want me to duel your champion to prove I’m a wise investment, eh?”

Master Cycle had warned him of this before he left.

“Von, do not trust the Elders,” Master Cycle said. “Trust Talla. Trust Elves. Do not trust the Elders. Corrupt, stuck in tradition shitheads. Chances are they will have changed their minds in the time it takes for you to get there. They probably heard about your condition and figure they will want to back out on the deal. I have it on good authority they will try that. Probably got a new champion too.”

“What do I do then?” Von asked. “Do I just…go along with it?”

“Yes. Do you know why?” Master Cycle leaned forward and grinned. “There is nothing more satisfying than falling into a trap on purpose, destroying it from the inside, and watching your enemy fucking hate their lives afterward.”

Still, Von hesitated. “Even so, the thought of having to duel someone again so soon is…”

“If you best their new champion,” Master Cycle offered, “I will tell you one thing.”

“Tell me what?”

“I will tell you what first made you want to become the world’s strongest swordsman.”

His friend Talla needed help. His duty as a lord would not have him step down now. His personal curiosity ached at the idea of knowing what originally drove him. Even if his opponent was mighty, he had no reason to fear them. “Bring on your new champion,” Von thundered, “and thank them for keeping the title warm for Talla.”