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Elves are no large feat for us.”
The soldiers started stirring at Shade’s words. A few clutched their weapons or muttered something to their neighbours. It had been weeks since they had left their homeland, and even longer since they had engaged in a long, glorious battle; the thirst for blood was ripe in the air. Shade gazed triumphantly at the restless soldiers, and gave the Seer a gloating look.
“This old fool believes the Dragons will guide us to glory, but I ask you all – have any of you experienced anything holy, anything spiritual? Have any Dragons come to you whilst you are sleeping, and whispered to you about turning away from battle? It has been centuries since the beating of wings and the breath of Dragon-gods have aided us in battle. We have done this alone for years, and we will continue to do so. We are strong. We do not need the
Dragons! War is in our blood, Tyrans! The clash of axe against sword is the only thing in our destiny! Your old Tyran Seer still prays at the temple, and now claims, so close to victory, that the Dragons have said we must turn back! But where were our Dragons when we needed them most, my Tyran brothers?”
A loud cheer rang throughout the crowd of soldiers; several of the Tyran raised their weapons and shook them in the air, roaring in approval.
“Now is not the time for worship! Now is the time for action!” Shade roared. “The
E
lves are an old enemy, for they were slaves to our allies many years ago. They dislike us, and have no doubt been training for revenge. We must, therefore, be brutal, and attack their men, women and children until we have made our revenge perfectly clear, and established authority here. Surely, the might and the power of this great Tyran tribe can easily overthrow the
Elf scum that has so long plagued this earth!”
The Tyrans cheered again; several actually stamped their feet. Villid remained silent. The Seer, who was now standing beside Villid, frowned deeply as he watched Shade. “Brutal force,” the Seer muttered. “He is planning to perform genocide, and for what? Vengeance?”
“Genocide? This is mercy,” said Villid’s brother Swift, who was clapping along with the rest of the group of soldiers. “As you know, Seer, many years ago we Tyrans ruled over this land and enslaved the
Elves before we were overthrown. Death is surely more favourable than slavery. Besides,” he nudged Villid, half-laughing. “It has been a while since we engaged in a nice rough battle, isn’t it, brother?”
Villid did not smile. Between Shade and the Seer, Villid leant towards the latter in making decisions. The Seer often said that Shade was an arrogant and foolish leader. At that moment, Villid felt he agreed.
“The E
lves celebrate their annual festival of their own Dragon-gods on this night, and their defences are low,” Shade smirked. “This, however, does not mean we should be careless. The
Elven
village is small, and we have the advantage, but we must lose as few soldiers as possible. We must make sure we take them by surprise. When the
Elves are defeated we can start another base here, and gain the advantage over our enemies. We must regain power, or all hope is lost.”

Farther to the east, the forest ended and opened up to several huge, ripe wheat fields, where the blood-red sun cast a warm glow over the land. The fields stood in large, oblong rows, swaying gently in the evening breeze, remaining slightly damp from yesterday’s rain.
The day was getting old, it was barely an hour before sunset, and the usual fifty or so workers of the wheat fields had long since left for the village. Only two remained, quietly picking their way through the wheat plantations towards the trees.
Aya and Neecrid were two young E
lves. Neecrid was tall and pretty, her braided red hair decorated in ribbons made from the petals of colourful flowers. Aya was slightly smaller than Neecrid, her thick hair waist-length and black as coal, tied back with ribbon. Her eyes were bright green, and round her neck she wore a simple necklace made of polished stones. Each
Elf wore tunics with lace and strapped sandals, although Aya had taken hers off and put them in her basket – she preferred her feet to be bare, especially in the warm evening when she could feel the damp ground soothe her skin.
The E
lves heaved their baskets higher on their hips. They were half-full, although with each step, pieces of grain fell from Aya’s basket onto the cool earth, leaving a small trail as they walked. The rain was still present on the branches
above them, and the women were sprinkled by cold droplets as they walked. It was extremely comfortable.
“Aya, we should turn back,” said Neecrid finally, casting a glance at the crimson sky. “The sun will set soon, and we’re performing in the dance tonight.”
“You don’t have to remind me,” Aya smiled as they climbed over the branches and roots that stuck out unevenly in the ground. “We have plenty of time. Besides, I wanted to stay here a little while longer.”
“Why?” Neecrid replied, shooting a nervous look at the trees, which were so thick that they were swallowed up by darkness further in. “Harvesting time is over – we have enough to feed thousands tonight.”
“I wanted to walk. The village is so noisy right now.” Aya threw back her head and smiled, letting the wind caress her face and hair. She gazed mischievously at the trees on their right. “I have heard that rare berries grow in the wood,” she commented.
“The wood?” Neecrid said nervously, staring at her basket. “We’re not supposed to go in there, Aya. You know that.”
Aya turned to look at her. “You can turn back,” she said, half-mockingly. Neecrid stared back at her with wide, surprised eyes. When she realised that Aya wasn’t joking, she swallowed nervously.
“I don’t think you should go,” Neecrid said seriously. “I’ve... I’ve heard things…”
“Petty stories, no doubt,” Aya snorted, hoisting the basket farther up her hip.
“Well...” Neecrid was blushing now; her cheeks pink on her usually pale face. “There must be a reason why the forest is forbidden.”
Aya turned her head so Neecrid wouldn’t see her roll her eyes impatiently. “’To protect us,’” she quoted dully. “Come on, Neecrid. No one will know,” she looked at her expectantly for a moment, then sighed.
“Neecrid,” she nudged her friend with her elbow. “What is it you’re afraid of?”
Neecrid fiddled with a bit of her red hair, as she often did when she felt uncomfortable. Aya had known her for a long time; they had studied together since they were children, had harvested in the same fields together and even had the same nightly responsibilities in the south tower in the village.
“There are beasts and bandits in the forest!” Neecrid burst out, her hand closing protectively round Aya’s wrist. “Hani said earlier that she heard voices in the trees! There could be humans, or worse, hunting the animals, chopping trees, maybe even burning the forests!”
“That is ridiculous,” Aya said. “Humans! What would humans want with
Elves?”
And she turned and pushed her way into the thicket of branches and the overgrown bushes that led into the forest.
“Aya, no!” Neecrid gasped, scrambling after her. “Please, let’s go back!”
Aya ignored Neecrid and went on. She was tired of always being told what to do. “I have had plenty of orders from my father, thank you,” she snapped. “Haven’t you ever wondered what’s beyond the city gates? What’s past these trees? You go back. I won’t take long.”
As she struggled through the thick branches, Aya felt a surge of insane excitement. She had never been into the forest before. No
Elves ever ventured into the forest beyond here – they had always been told it was forbidden to go further than the wheat fields, unless they were an Elder, or had special permission from them.
In a few hours’ time, the Festival of Talgi was to be held. It was a yearly celebration where the whole of the village gathered together in the square to sing, perform and worship the
E
lven Dragon goddess of earth, Talgi. Every year, it was said, the huge festival brought
Elves closer together in the harmony of worship and peace. This year, Aya was to be in the dance, at midnight. “A great honour,” her father, Dorran, had said proudly when he had heard. “You will be the most beautiful dancer, Aya. I am very proud of you.”
Aya had had no say in this. She had been encouraged to dance since she could walk, and she enjoyed it, but she had no desire to perform in front of the entire village. “As if it is the only thing I’m good for,” she protested to her father. “I’d much prefer to be a part of the performance of flying swords, or...”
“Such things are unsuitable for an Elf woman,” Dorran had scolded her. “Swords and knives, to be handled by a lady? Nonsense! But the elegant, mysterious, delicate art of dance! Elves will speak of this year for generations to come! You are a lucky woman, Aya.”
Aya growled to herself as she scrambled through the trees. “Talgi save us,” she murmured out loud.
“Aya!” Neecrid’s voice echoed behind Aya and she stopped, half-amused, half-irritated. Neecrid came to Aya’s side with difficulty; branches and leaves had caught in her hair and it was difficult to haul the basket of wheat along.
“We’ll be late for the festival if we delay much longer,” Neecrid panted. “What are you doing?”
“Just looking around, Neecrid,” Aya smiled. They had come to a forest clearing. Aya sighed in relief as they scrambled out of the thick bushes and into a fairly big clearance. The torrential rain from yesterday’s storm had collected in the trees, and was dropping loudly onto the splintered ground, creating an almost musical rhythm in the forest. Aya smiled in delight as the water fell on her face and neck. It felt deliciously cool.
“I see no berries anywhere,” sniffed Neecrid.
“Indeed,” Aya agreed. “One might wonder if there are berries here at all,”
Neecrid glared at her for a moment, and Aya stared mischievously back. Neecrid’s mouth twitched, and suddenly they were both laughing. “You are impossible,
Aya,” Neecrid commented, giggling nervously. “But…” she gave a shaky sigh. “We may get into trouble if we are found here. Please, let’s go home. We... what’s that?”
Neecrid’s eyes widened as she stared at the ground behind where Aya stood. Aya followed Neecrid’s gaze along the forest clearing, where wood and leaves had fallen under the oaks. There was an odd, red stain, a spatter of red. Aya moved nearer to it, and examined it closely. “It looks like blood,” she said quietly.
“Then the stories are true!” Neecrid squealed. “There are beasts here! Or humans! Or...”
“Shh!” Aya hissed. “Any beast will find us if you make a racket like that. Calm yourself, Neecrid. It isn’t
Elf blood.”
There was an odd trail of the red stain, leading into the bushes in large droplets. Aya approached the bush carefully, her heart thumping. For the first time, she felt a twinge of fear, an emotion that felt unfamiliar and very unpleasant.
“Aya, no!” Neecrid gasped, trying to grab her arm. Aya shook it off impatiently.
She lifted the leaves of the bush, and jumped back in astonishment. Neecrid gave a small scream, clapping her hand to her mouth and dropping her basket with a dull thump. The huge head of a warthog-like creature rolled out from the branches, its grotesque face contorted in pain and its mouth open, showing a thick pink tongue. The head was the size of a small boulder, its cold, blank eyes
staring unseeingly at the surprised Elves.
Aya knew Neecrid would panic if she showed she was afraid. “Well, that’s disgusting,” she said lightly.
“Aya, it’s not funny!” Neecrid said tearfully. “Who would hunt the warthogs here? I’ll tell you! They are humans, or worse, Darkma...”
“Perhaps it’s the Knabi,” Aya suggested, rising to her feet. “They venture here often enough, and we let them.”
But she was not reassuring herself. The bird-people, the Knabi, did not eat warthogs, or any kind of meat. It certainly would not make sense for them to come so far north just to behead a creature.
Neecrid was shaking in fear, and picked up her basket with trembling hands. Aya felt a twinge of regret. “I’m sorry, Neecrid,” she said, and squeezed her shoulder gently. “Let’s go home now.”
They left the beast’s head on the ground of the forest clearing and ventured back into the dark trees. Neither
Elf uttered a word as they struggled through the thick branches, leaves and twigs getting caught in their hair, sticks sometimes brushing their skin and leaving small scratches. They battled for several minutes before they found the fields of wheat once again. The sun had nearly set, and the sky was darkening into twilight.
“Oh, quick, quick!” Neecrid squealed. “We might be late! We’re in trouble! Aya, let’s hurry!” she grabbed Aya’s hand and they stumbled through the fields, wheat flying out of
their baskets.
As they ran along the dirt path, Aya thought about what they had discovered in the forest. Neecrid was not the bravest of
E
lves, but she hadn’t been wrong to be afraid. The small
E
lven village was far to the east, miles from the Knabi, who dwelled in the south, and even further from the scattered human tribes around the land. In
Elf society, the children were taught about the “other races” of their world – the humans, dwelling in small groups and towns, made fine weapons and loved gold more than anything. The E
lves rarely saw humans, who came to the village now and then to trade supplies. Their stay was always brief, and they strictly only did business with the Elders. The village
Elves were always very cautious of visitors from outside the forest.
The Elf children also learned about the Knabi, the bird-people from the south, with whom the Elves had an understanding, and trusted the most. Peaceful creatures, they shared part of the land and sometimes aided each other in times of hardship such as famines. Aya had met some of them in a festival several years ago – they were beautiful creatures, slender and delicate-looking with enormous wings and sharp, handsome features. They spoke and acted politely and respectably, and Aya had been happy to spend time with them. They hadn’t visited the village in several years, however, and Aya wished they would.
The Vrana
dwelled in the north-east, lived underground in caverns, caves and in the deepest part of the mountains. Strong and secretive, they had never posed a threat to the
E
lves, and they liked to keep it that way. They disliked lands that were flat or bright, and Aya had never heard of them coming to the village, but had seen paintings of them in books. Aya knew there were other races from the mountains too – but although
Elven research was extensive, they didn’t know everything about the world.
The Elves were taught and warned about the Tyrans, the terrible tribes from the north, that thrived from destruction and were cold, merciless, emotionless people who had taken over most of the land two centuries ago, but had lost power since.
“Have you ever seen a Tyran, father?” Aya remembered asking once, years ago when she was a child.
“Once,” her father had replied darkly. “You were just a baby, Aya. It was in the forest not far from this village.” He had said nothing more, but Aya sensed that it had been a sensitive subject, and not pressed the matter further.
The E
lf scholars also taught the children about the Darkma, the monsters in the west that had been at war with the Tyrans for hundreds of years. “They’ve never come to this part of the world, and that is how it must stay,” an
E
lf Seer had said solemnly. “The war rages far away from us, and we are lucky for that. The Darkma and the Tyrans must be avoided if we can continue the peaceful life you know.
You, children, are the future of the village.”
It was easy to avoid them, Aya had mused. Elves barely left the forest land.
The warthog’s head in the woods had definitely troubled her. She toyed with the idea that, perhaps, it had died in a fight with another warthog, but that was impossible. Beasts did not behead each other, and the rest of its body had not been there. There could only be one explanation – someone had hunted it, quite successfully, it seemed.
They slowed to a walk when they came to the narrow dirt pathway that was a road to the main gate of the village. It was a small road, where the trees hung over like a green ceiling, slits of the evening sunlight escaping onto the path, beams of light touching the earth here and there.
For the past several days, Elf children had gathered to decorate the pathway, and lanterns and strips of ribbon hung from the branches, creating a colourful glow that surrounded them as they made their way along the path. Aya smiled at the lovely sight and glanced at Neecrid, who was wearing a worried expression, and apparently hadn’t noticed the decorations.
The path soon came out of the trees, and the road became wider, the wall of the village standing on their left. Aya softly ran her hand along the wall as she walked, which was an old habit of hers, and started humming tunelessly as they approached the large wooden gate, which was not locked or bolted. It needed little security, defending only
from stray animals from the woods.
Aya and Neecrid entered the gate and climbed the stone steps that led to the main square. The surrounding houses had been decorated with pale blue lanterns, ribbons of many different colours and small chiming bells that jingled pleasantly in the breeze. The houses had been fashioned from wood in the forest, branches entwined and twisted to form walls and roofs. Inside,