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Vailadriel

The dagger lay on the desk before me, its polished blade catching the gentle dance of the flames from the nearby hearth.

I had long since lost track of the hours I'd spent in this chamber, staring at the small weapon. Contemplating its use.

How quick would it be? Would I feel much pain?

Slowly, I closed my eyes, the sincere face of the gnoll taking form in my mind. He was the reason why I wanted to drive that blade through my heart. Why I almost threw myself from the balcony of my chamber. And why I couldn't do it.

How could I even contemplate insulting the ultimate gift he gave to me? The torment and hardship he suffered to see me safe, and I wanted to throw it all away.

The all too familiar sensation of moisture rolling down my cheek drew my eyes open. The blade was the first thing I saw.

Wicked in its beauty, the weapon was crafted by one of the master smiths of the palace.

I always thought it strange that even among the elves, a people who seek to celebrate life, a weapon of war would have so much intricate detail in its crafting. As if bringing about something's end was worthy of beauty.

I inhaled a deep, quivering breath, rising from the desk, turning away from the weapon.

Skempta believes he's still alive. How I wish that were true. I want to believe that. With everything, I need to believe that.

Yet, I couldn't wish for that. If Rekkdyr was alive, that would mean the unthinkable. That we had abandoned him in a world of torment and darkness.

I'd seen the fey-blooded orc in the palace library, always closely watched, yet typically allowed to roam freely.

She would curse, muttering something about “fairies and their damn writing," before placing a book aside and reaching for another.

What she sought, I did not know. Her search seemed futile. Lady Eava had spent the last two weeks with my mother researching all they could about the land of the dead. Everything they had found was disheartening.

The writings were scarce, and those to be found described a land completely void of sensation. Any poor soul that met such a fate would lose all knowledge of the physical. No land to walk, no water to drink.

No air to breath.

Ironically, it was a land without death in which you wished to die. At least, that's what the texts say.

I walked to the large window, gazing out to the valley below. The snows had not let up for nearly two weeks, and the world was cast in shades of blues and whites and greys.

In the Land of Shadow, the passing of time ignores the laws of our realm. My mother's voice echoed through my mind. There is no time, or there is too much. I wasn't certain how it worked, or was supposed to. Nothing about the texts were clear.

I turned away from the window, drawing the curtains closed.

The world was being cast into darkness. I could see it in my mother's face. Hear it in her words.

Fear seemed to grip the Lords and Ladies of Rainhaven. They scrambled to form alliances with any who believed their claim. As few had seen evidence of the sundering of the Silverfire Runes, allies were not many.

And amidst all of this, I found myself uncaring.

How pathetic had I grown, where I longed to return to the days of imprisonment, caged in a dark cell barely large enough for myself, let alone to be shared with a gnoll. At least back then, I had a shield that I knew would stand between me and the rising darkness. Back then, in perhaps one of the most dangerous moments in my life, I felt safe.

Now, all I felt was uncertainty.

A glint of silver on the desk caught my eye. At first I thought it was just the reflection off the dagger. The dagger was on the opposite edge of the desk.

On the far corner of the desk sat a large ring. One that would fit me like a bracelet.

My heart froze, my lungs threatening to suffocate me with their paralysis.

Finally, I forced my legs into action, carrying me across the room to the desk. I reached out, fingers hovering within inches of the piece of jewelry, though I was too afraid to touch it. Too afraid it wasn't really there.

I knew that ring well, for I was the one who made it.

With trembling hands, I picked up the ring that was on Rekkdyr's finger as he fell into darkness.

Sir Araed Kappis

The sun rose from behind the small guard shack, glaring off the snow through the window.

A mighty yawn escaped my lips, and I gripped the steaming acorn drink tightly, hoping to warm my numb fingers.

This morning found me in command of the northwestern gates of Mireshadow. Even just two moon cycles ago, it would have been the worst post to command. It was the furthest gate from town, and therefore furthest from aid in the event of an attack. It held little in the way of comforts, and no matter how hard one tried, the northern gusts from the Frostbogs seemed determined to smother the flames in the braziers outside.

Furthermore, it was the gate that happened to open nearest to the Frostbogs to the north, on the roadway that lead off into the west, towards the Freshwater Sea.

This morning, however, I was actually relieved to be charged with such a command. As perhaps one of the more dangerous gates, many travelers would take the time to move south around the city to the southern gates, despite the main road coming directly through the northwestern one. This meant I was allowed a reprieve from the duties of watching the captives, and trying to keep them from tearing each other apart.

I took a sip of the hot acorn coffee, savoring its bitterness and warmth as it flowed down my throat.

Even though it had been nearly two years since the trolls of the Frostbogs last raided Mireshadow, memory of those days were still forefront in many travelers' minds. The city itself had built an outpost north of our gate, with horses and a rider on standby to warn the city of an imminent raid.

A frontier garrison like Mireshadow had many dangers of course, and trolls were just one of many. North of the Frostbogs lay the Avaltiss Reach, a large stretch of forest that ran east of the Sutvalds.

The forest was largely untraveled, due to its remoteness and the difficulty in travelling there. Because of this, there were many local legends about the types of beasts and ancient magics that the woods shrouded.

Even with everything I'd seen in the last few weeks, I was skeptical of such things. I'd heard of magic all my life, of the great wizards of the Academy in Akarshan, and of the various barbaric druid circles scattered randomly throughout the north, but never in my entire twenty years of life had I seen anything I could not explain.

Supposedly, it was not uncommon for courts and kings to employ magicians and mages for various purposes, and there was one such man in Eastwald, but he seemed to closely guard his “craft."

A small chuckle escaped my lips as I glanced out of the small guard hut. Large iron braziers could be seen from the window, casting a plume of smoke into the sky. The winds were not too terrible this morning.

Part of me wanted to go out and stand by the warmth of the flames with one of the militia. As the newest knight, I was still the “outsider." The Young man from Eastwald who didn't understand how dangerous it could be here.

That was one of the main reasons why I attempted to immerse myself so completely in their local myth and legend. To understand those I was to serve with.

Indeed, word had reached us that the roads were not quite as safe as they had been the last few years. Giant wolves seemed to be setting upon travelers from the Frostbogs, sometimes accompanied by trolls, sometimes acting alone.

The entire situation would normally be met by a patrol being dispatched to seek out and eliminate the threat, but because of the refugee prisoners from Manir, we were already stretched too thin.

“Sir, a rider approaches on the Northwest road." Auka, a young farmer turned guardsman informed.

“From the outpost?" I asked, turning to the young man, no older than sixteen.

“No, sir, looks like a lone woman." He replied.

It was dangerous for anyone to travel alone in these lands, so close to the Frostbogs, let alone for single maidens.

I rose from the desk, setting my acorn coffee down reluctantly. I glanced at the report I'd been reading one last time, the parting words of the Knight I had taken over for at the change of the guard.

Stepping out into the cold winter morning, I was relieved to see the sun was visible in the sky. Hopefully that would aid somewhat in combating the cold.

A glance down at the road saw a lone rider, much as Auka had described.

The woman rode upon a magnificent black steed, typically one used for war, though it only bore a regular rider's saddle and harness. From this distance, it was difficult to make out her details, though I could see her hair was light auburn.

She wore a thick hide cloak of red with white fur trimming over a well-tailored yet simple emerald green dress. Typically not something one chooses to take to the roads in.

I walked a short ways down the road as she approached, my hand resting non-threateningly on my sword hilt at my side.

As I opened my mouth to call out in greeting, I was immediately halted by her sheer beauty.

Her skin was smooth and fair, her eyes a green that matched her dress. Her auburn hair was braided in intricate patterns that disappeared beneath the thick red and white hood of her cloak. Her lips were scarlet, contrasting against her soft flesh.

I gazed upon the stranger for a moment, watching her as she slowly trotted up before me. She pulled on the reins of her horse, bringing it to a halt.

“Well met, sir, is this the city of Mireshadow?" her words were like a melody that threatened to melt me where I stood.

I realized I was standing there just staring into her eyes, and quickly recovered.

“Ah, yes, my lady. This is the frontier garrison of Mireshadow." I stuttered, trying to regain composure. “Might I ask what brings a lone maiden such as yourself to our gates here at the edge of the world?"

She gave a warm smile.

“I hail from the Kingdom of Duskshire, to the west. I am Lady Kala of the city of Foris. It would seem I have been separated from the rest of my company. Mireshadow was our agreed upon destination, should any become separated."

“Mireshadow is far from the lands of Duskshire, my lady. An odd place to gather for you and your kinsman." I commented.

“Well, sir, we are traveling the land, hoping to forge new bonds with our neighbors, be them elves, or men, or dwarves. Our mission is one of diplomacy. We were traveling to Jorn Kastel when we were set upon by highwaymen. I managed to escape, though I fear for the others." She replied.

“Perhaps, I could remain here a few days, and rest up? They may yet arrive, as I am a single rider, and capable of outpacing wagons laden with cargo."

I nodded at length, reaching for the black horses reins. I led her and the beast back towards the gates. Auka was there with some of the other guardsmen, and each watched her with that same awe that I still struggled to shake.

It wasn't often nobility came to Mireshadow.

Ivaylis

“What can we expect?" I asked as I walked beside the centaur druid.

He trotted beside me slowly, clearly much slower than he would have preferred. I was certain part of that was my fault.

“My kind don't typically take to outsiders very kindly. Our wars with Manir haven't done much to lessen my herds' suspicion, either. Couple that with the rise of the dead in the area, and I suspect you and your kin will be met with skepticism." Hestross replied.

I glanced back at Riddaris, who was walking beside his sister, Elska, the poor filly clearly slowed by her child-heavy stomach. Even looking at the poor thing brought a frown to my face.

My eyes met Riddaris, and he nodded. I smiled in return.

Accompanying myself and the three centaurs was the crew of the Sea Flame, the small war band that was sent to accompany me on a mission of diplomacy with the centaurs of Manir. Nearly two days prior, we had disembarked on the very same beach that I had on my first journey through Manir.

This time, however, we had a slightly larger company, consisting of nearly twenty elvish soldiers, twenty-one counting myself, and the three centaurs. A small contingent had been left behind at the Sea Flame to guard the beach and the ship docked there.

According to the centaurs, the very same valley that opened up to the northern beach was the forested vale that the centaurs called home. It was the furthest, and most open of the valleys in the Nordeik Mountains, making it the best suited to avoid patrols of Manir.

Therefore, when we reached the herds' camp on that first day to find it deserted, I felt a slight pang of fear for the centaurs. Already, the crimes of the royal family of Manir had sundered many lives, and I just couldn't bear to think about an entire people being wiped of the face of Ryze.

Hestross seemed unconcerned however, as he and his brother lead us through the forested vale to another pass leaving the mountains.

He explained that in times of trouble, the centaurs had found he need to seek out a secret home, a place the herd could retreat to.

This place was in a nearby valley, smaller and nearly forgotten by most of the inhabitants of the island.

“What of Lady Aklys' request?" I asked, turning back to Hestross. “Have you knowledge of where the Hall of Old Manir lies?"

“Some. The giant's control that valley, however. We have not always been on the friendliest of terms, despite our shared dislike of the humans of Manir.

“If the Bloodskin Grimoire was interred there, beside the seal, how could it have come by Prince Myr?"

The centaur shrugged in response.

The mountain pass had come to a small valley. Smoke rose in plumes from below, a good sign.

With only a few more hours of travel, we found ourselves coming upon the small village.

A large group of centaurs thundered forward, each gripping weapons of various types.

Each was as naked as the centaur brothers I'd grown accustomed to, with a similar leather harness used to mount weapons, shields, and various pouches and bags about them.

They calmed some when they laid eyes on Hestross and Riddaris.

A massive centaur galloped ahead of the group, returning a large axe to his flank as he came.

“Well met, Atga!" Riddaris called, galloping up beside me and his brother.

“Riddaris, Hestross." The centaur, Atga, spoke, nodding his head. “What is the meaning of this? Bringing outsiders here?"

His tone was calm, but his words held a certain tension to them.

“We have much to discuss, Atga. I need to speak with the circle immediately." Hestross said.

The centaur eyed me suspiciously, as I stood dwarfed between the two centaur brothers on either side of me.

“What of the elf?" he asked, eyes never leaving me.

“That is among what we must discuss." Riddaris replied.

“These elves are friends." Hestross said, taking a slight step closer to me.

Atga searched the druids gaze for something, considering him intently for a moment. Finally, he nodded.

“Come, we shall gather the elders." He said, turning.

The entire band of warriors circled about our company, escorting us into the heart of the small village.

I wasn't sure what to expect from a village of centaurs. As a people that originated from the plainlands, I didn't know what sort of dwellings or structures they would have.

What I saw made sense, I suppose. Strange, hard framed structures with soft animal hide coverings surrounded me. Round in structure, they were large enough for a centaur to move about standing erect. Their ease of construction made it seem possible to break down and move quickly if needed. A dwelling fit for a nomadic people.

Centaur youth quickly fell in with the warriors, each eager to see the strange group of outsiders. Riddaris and Hestross would nod to various centaurs as we moved.

Finally, we came to an ancient looking centaur woman. If the centaur warrior was a symbol of physical strength, she seemed to lack any semblance to that. Her frail form seemed unsteady on her horse legs, and her eyes were a milky white, telling of her obvious blindness.

“Vissa." Hestross bowed his forelegs, the centaur version of taking a knee. I followed suit, offering the old woman whatever honor she was due.

“Hestross. Riddaris. You have returned. With little Elska, I see." She said, gazing past us to the small centaur filly. I followed her distant gaze to the girl, shocked.

“H-how?" I began, but Hestross put his hand up.

“Vissa, we have much to discuss, but Elska is weary. She has been through a great ordeal, and that is beyond the journey to return home." Riddaris told the woman.

“She is with child. Unknown is the father. Though he was no centaur." The ancient woman spoke.

Hestross nodded.

“Atga. Fetch Gildris. Tell her to prepare a birthing tent. We haven't much time to prepare for the new child." Atga nodded, galloping away quickly.

“Hestross. Tell me everything."

Tokala

The human knight, this Sir Araed Kappis, lead Fyrsil by the reins. It was almost too difficult to keep from laughing as I sat on the shapeshifted phooka's back.

He brought us up to a large stable set beside a small inn.

“You can put your horse up here for the time being. Unfortunately, we've had to commandeer these poor folks stables, as ours our currently being repurposed at the moment." He explained, glancing at me from his periphery.

I stifled a chuckle, noting his reluctance to look directly at me. Whoever my fey parent was, I would have to thank them for blessing me with such a handy charm.

I smiled. Fyrsil was gonna hate being left behind in a stable. He gave a horse like snort beneath me.

“Thank you, sir. I truly appreciate your hospitality." I grinned, my usual voice sounding from my fox muzzle. What he heard, and saw, however, was the illusion of a beautiful human woman adorned in a fine nobles dress.

He reached an arm up to assist me in dismounting the large black horse.

“What a gentleman." I smiled, taking his hand with my fox paw-like hands. He didn't notice the fur, nor the small claws that ended each finger.

Sliding off the massive horse, I gracefully landed beside him.

I glanced up at the man, easily towering over me. Again, my short stature somehow went unnoticed, enamored as he was with my fey-like charms. The magical glamour may have helped. A little.

“I sent word ahead, my lady. We should have a warm meal waiting for you when you reach the barracks. Captain Illska wishes to meet with you." He said, guiding me up the road away from the stables. I glanced back with a grin to Fyrsil, who was being led by the reins. He gave a whinny in protest.

“Now Fyrsil, behave. I won't be gone long." I told him with a grin. Everyone was too enamored with me to notice the glare on the horses face.

“He is in good hands, Lady Kala." My knightly escort assured.

I let him lead me away from the stables, up towards the large barracks.

I could see the walled off portion of the prisoner compound, and the new shift of guardsmen moving about the gateway. A large commotion could be heard on the other side, though that seemed typical when prisoners were loosely combined in a free roaming yard.

“What is that?" I asked Araed, already knowing the answer.

“Refugees from Manir. It seems the island kingdom has been having some difficulties in the last few weeks. Word travels slowly, I'm afraid." He replied, before leading me inside the barracks courtyard. We entered a doorway, coming into a small hall, built with all of the finesse and comforts befitting a frontier soldier. So not much at all.

Rough oaken tables lined the hall, clearly used for meetings of some sort. On one of the larger tables was laid out a small feast, complete with poultry and various forms of breads and cheeses.

It was difficult to hide my disgust. There were creatures out in the courtyard even now starving, and here they had a small feast laid out for me.

“Is everything alright, my lady?" Sir Araed asked, this time eyes meeting mine. That was a mistake on his behalf.

I gave an alluring smile which seemed to melt the human where he stood. He quickly lowered his gaze.

“Of course, I was just surprised to see such a meal. I've grown accustomed to travelers' stew, so this is certainly a nice change." I lied.

“Please, sit." He offered, taking my nonexistent cloak from my shoulders. I'm sure he felt the weight of its fur as he hung nothing on a nearby chair.

He slid another out for me, the true gentleman. I wonder how shocked the poor man would be when he found out I wasn't even female, let alone human.

The illusionary woman I was dressed as probably appeared much more graceful as she sat in the offered seat than the actual three and a half foot tall fox man that had to hop into the chair.

Araed paid no attention as he slid my chair into the table.

“Please, begin," he said, gesturing toward the meal before turning to one of the guardsmen that accompanied us from the stables, “go inform Captain Illska that our guest has arrived."

The young man nodded, quickly running from the room.

I suppressed another grin, remembering back to my conversation with Fyrsil about armies of the fey. It's probably a good thing they had no armies. I couldn't even imagine a world so regimented and ruled by orders and command structures. My true nightmare, really.

“Now, my lady, I must return to my post at the gate. Please, make yourself comfortable, and enjoy your meal. Captain Illska will tend to your concerns from here." He bowed low.

“Thank you, Sir Araed. You have been too kind."

He bowed again, before turning on his heel and exiting the door we entered through.

I reached for the horn goblet placed beside the wooden platter of food before me. My keen fox nose told me that it was mead. I grinned, taking a healthy drink, draining the entirety of the goblet in one go, before placing it gently down on the table.

The guardsmen all watched me with wide eyes, having just witnessed a delicate human maiden guzzle down an entire goblet of honey wine without so much as a swoon.

I smiled at one who caught my gaze. He quickly looked away.

If they thought this cheap mead was anything, they clearly never tasted of the stuff made by satyrs.

The door opposite the one I had entered swung open, and a middle aged man entered. He was dressed in a fine tunic of embroidered leather, an arming sword hanging at his side from a matching leather baldric.

“Captain?" I asked, moving to rise for a curtsy.

“Please, there is no need to rise on my account, my lady." He said with a bow.

I was somewhat relieved. While my illusion would have hidden my struggle to climb out of and into the chair, it was still an inconvenience.

He took a seat opposite me at the table, a strange smile on his face. His eyes met mine, and I was instantly stricken with a sense of unease.

I mean, clearly he was enthralled by my fey charms, but I suspected this man had intentions other than honorable. How surprised would he be if he tried to bury his prick between my legs only to find a fox cock staring him in the face.

The very thought brought a smile to my lips I couldn't suppress.

“What's so funny?" he asked, matching my smile, as if he were in on my joke.

“It's nothing. I'm just marveling at the complete reversal of my fortune today. I'd gone from travelling dangerous roads alone to feasting with a handsome Knight Captain."

This caused his grin to widen quite a bit, and not in a good way. Definitely had intentions less than honorable. Well, so did I.

“Well, My lady. Unfortunately, we are stretched rather thin at the moment, so I will be unable to send out riders to search for the rest of your company and render aid if so needed. I will send word to Foris, however, that you have arrived safely, and that we will host you until either your company turns up, or an escort can be sent to ensure safe passage home." He explained.

How hilarious will that be when the messenger arrives in Foris to learn that there is no Lady Kala of Foris.

“I understand. Again, I thank you for your hospitality."

He grinned. “I'm sorry, our accommodations may not be up to the standards of a Lady, but comforts along the frontier are not common. You will of course be taking my chambers, and I will stay in the barracks for the duration."

“Again, you're too kind."

With that, he excused himself from the room, muttering something about official business. I finished the meal, before allowing myself to be escorted from the room.

Fyrsil and I had gained a bit of a notoriety as practical jokesters amongst the fey. Infamy amongst a people infamous for being pranksters. These poor humans had no idea what had just befallen them.