Wildling (9 page)

Chapter Twelve.

“Lady Sylfene.” Petran was nervous as he approached the ancient elf. But he had to. It was a matter of honour as well as justice. He could not allow another to suffer in his place. Especially not when that other had saved him from a short and brutal life of slavery.

He felt guilty for not having done this days before. But there had been no chance. He couldn't speak at first and by the time his voice had returned the Lady had already returned to her post. He hadn't been allowed to go to her as he'd wanted. Instead he and the others had been quickly led away by the wayfarers, shown to where they would be expected to make their camp and then instructed in what would be asked of them.

Perhaps required was a better word. And a lot was required. Particularly for the first two months while they were being assessed.

There were to be long periods of study as they were instructed in the correct use of their gifts. Hours of meditation every day as they focused their strength. Endless lessons in the history of the elves as they were taught of where the gift had come from and why it had been then taken from some and bestowed upon others. And then more lessons in the basics of life, reading, writing and mathematics. And that was for a full two months. After that they were told would come the assessments and then if they passed they would set about rebuilding some of the ancient cities of Terris Lee - the ancient home of the elves. And in time those towns and cities that they rebuilt would become the beginning of a new realm. And even before then they had to rebuild some place called the chamber of souls.

It was a lot of work they were being asked to do. It would consume lifetimes and take everything they had. Even the first part, the studying and the training would exhaust them.

And yet it was worth it for what they were being offered in return. As they were being taught things about their gifts that few had ever known. Already Petran was being shown so much that was possible for a hound like him that he kept wondering if it was all some dream.

He was a hound. He could already hunt a man across a realm, tracking him by the scent of his soul. And he already knew how to see the truth in his quarry's eyes. All hounds knew these things. It was instinct. But he'd never known that he could use his gift to sustain himself on the chase. To give himself greater vitality for the hunt. Nor had he realised he could use it to guide his arrows, in time making him a better marksman even with his eyes closed than he currently was with his eyes open.

The wayfarers had promised him and the other hounds that he would learn all of these things within a year if he stayed. And that when he had mastered them there would be still more of his gift to discover. And like everyone else with the gift, he wanted that knowledge. He yearned for it in a way he had never yearned for anything else in his life. On the other hand he wasn't so enamoured with being taught more advanced arithmetic.

Why this was happening, why they had all been called to learn, he didn't know. And he had even less understanding of why it was happening now. All they had been told was that the ancient elves had been asleep or away somewhere, and that they had only recently woken up or returned to the world. Returned to find a world far different and far poorer to the one they had left. And now they were mending it.

Meanwhile the wayfarers or sun elves as they called themselves, were acting as their agents in the world. Spreading their commands far and wide, teaching those who answered the call what they had been taught long ago, and beginning the task of reclaiming the ancient northern realm of Terris Lee for those they deemed worthy. What once had been the ancestral home of the ancient elves would become the new home of the wildlings.

It was an exciting time. It was a dream given form for him and for the others. And it was something he could not fully give himself to. Not when there was such a burden weighing on his soul. But every time he had tried to say something he had been stopped. The wayfarers had no time for him. Not when they already had two thousand wildlings to teach and provide for while thousands more were coming. And they absolutely would not allow one of their charges to speak with the four. So every time he asked they told him no. And as for the four he hardly ever saw them. Three were always in Terris Lee beginning the journey of awakening the ancient cities. And the fourth was always at the entrance to the valley, studying the new arrivals. He understood, there were more than the four he’d seen. Another seven of them were somewhere out in the world recruiting more wildlings.

This was the first time in days that Sylfene had been the one at the entrance to the valley, and he had had to shirk his studies and sneak around behind the wayfarers' backs to reach her. They would not be happy about that. Neither would she.

“Child, should you not be at your meditations?”

The glowing woman spoke to him as if he was a schoolchild and she his school mistress, and as it had that first time it annoyed him, even as she intimidated him. Her power was immense but it was not that that truly overwhelmed him. It was something to do with her very nature. He didn't understand it, he wasn't sure that anyone did though they all felt it, but in her presence he constantly felt like a little boy speaking to an adult.

“How can I meditate when there has been an injustice done to one to whom I owe my life?”

“
Injustice?” She turned her attention directly on him and it was as though the air all around him had suddenly become heavy, weighing him down, crushing him. He wanted to fall to the ground and beg for mercy. But he couldn't.

“
Dorn Lady. He is innocent.”

Somehow Petran managed to squeeze the words out, though it was beyond difficult. The meditations her people were teaching them were supposed to make them all stronger in some way, but not against the four of them. But then even the wayfarers were weak in their presence. Their gifts were honed in ways none of the others had ever thought possible, but still they were insignificant against the four glowing elves.

“Innocent? He confessed child.”

“
You gave him no choice Lady.” The sweat was pouring down his brow as he said it and his vest was already clinging to him. But then he felt as if he was accusing her of some terrible crime. “You should have asked and listened.” Petran braced himself for her response, fearing the worst. But she surprised him, not appearing in the least angry. Cool certainly, but not angry.

“
I listened to him confess.”

“
You listened to a man riddled with guilt forced to confess to that which he blames himself for. But not that which he is actually guilty of. And he is guilty of no crime save the courage to do what was necessary. He acted that day purely to save three of us from a dusky elf. A dusky elf who had beaten and enslaved us, and was set to send us south to his clan along with any others he could catch. A dusky elf who only days before had struck him down and almost killed him with his lightning.”

“
He should have walked away. He should have let us suffer and die. But he did not. He acted the only way he could. Dorn was weak and unable to attack him any other way save with his bow. And he had to strike first and without warning. Else he would have died in the battle. Been burnt alive by Rodan's lightning. Again.”

“You speak foolishness.
Dusky elves lost their gift long ago child. You know this.”

“
But they kidnap and ravish women with the blood and have children by them. Some of those children have the gift and they are raised as dusky elves. That is what Rodan was. Mostly human but with the soul of a dusky elf.”

Lady Sylfene stared at him for a long time after that, but said nothing. Perhaps she was considering his words. Maybe she was merely considering his presumption in telling her she was wrong. Either way it didn't matter. He had run out of words. His throat had locked up and despite all the strength he had tried to hold to him, he felt his head bowing to her. How he wondered, could her presence be so strong that it simply overpowered him like that? And was there any hope that all the lessons they were being taught by the wayfarers would ever give them the strength to stand up to them? He doubted it.

And then the wayfarers arrived and he knew his chance to say anything more had ended. The wayfarers were very protective of the ancient elves, and they were likely upset by what he'd done. Petran knew he would not get another chance to slip away from under their watchful gaze.

“
Petran my gratitude for bringing this knowledge to me. This is a strange world we find ourselves in and maybe that strangeness makes it difficult for your people to act as they should. To navigate the safe path between the treacherous waters of darkness.”

“
But still why would he confess? I sensed the death upon him from the start. I knew the guilt. It was plain for all to see. And especially troubling when he is one who lives in the house of the Mother.”

“
But I will think upon your words. And I will speak with your companions who witnessed the crime. Though he is surely not innocent, perhaps there is a chance for him to atone. Perhaps there is yet hope for your friend to join us. But for the moment there is work to be done.”

“
Harildo, Baritt please return Petran here to his studies.” It was a dismissal and Petran knew that there was nothing more he could say. Especially when his throat was no longer working and his knees were threatening to buckle. But had he done enough?

Only time he knew would answer that.

Chapter Thirteen.

Sena sat on the grass with her class, ready to begin their first lesson in the history of the world. The true history that only the sun elves knew. Not the myths and legends that were what passed for scholarly learning everywhere else in the world. Not the tall tales passed by the bards in the alehouses. And she knew as she looked at her students that many of them would not believe her. Why would they?

These were mostly wildlings from the southern realms. Most of them had had little in the way of formal education. Many of them probably couldn't read or write. And the only thing they knew of their history was what they had been raised with. Myths, half-truths, wishes, tall tales and legends. Not history.

But that was true of all the world. Of all the four races that called it home, only the sun elves knew how it had begun. Or rather where it had come from since none knew how it had happened. How the old world had ended and the new one begun. Not even the eleven.

And even among those who might accept her words, most she suspected wouldn't care. This was after all ancient history. They had more recent history on their minds. Like the troubles they had faced making the journey. The things they had suffered. Even the loved ones they had lost. The group in front of her had only arrived the day before, and they were tired. They had arrived exhausted and some of them were injured. Even now many were hungry and all were frightened for the future. What did they care for ancient history?

“
Friends.” It seemed the best way to speak with them. For they weren't students, not hers anyway, and not anyone else's yet.

“
I am Sena Erilis of the Golden Trail. I am a wayfarer and a sun elf. You may call me Sena.”

Some of their eyes widened a little as she introduced herself as a sun elf. They'd never heard of a sun elf. In fact the only elves they knew of were the dusky elves who looked nothing like her. Nothing like humans either. In fact they all thought wayfarers were humans, just with white blonde hair. Unfortunately there was a reason for that. A reason they would learn today and probably soon forget.

“You have come a long way to be here today. Suffered many hardships. And as yet you don't know why. You only know that some people who glow called you, placed a hex upon you, and forced you to come. Today, here and now I will start to tell you of why you were called here. And what it is that will be asked of you in time.”

“
But first I will begin by telling you this one truth. There are four races that call this world home. The sun elves, the dusky elves, the wood elves and the humans. This you know. But what you don't know is that three thousand years ago there was only one race. The race that built this temple and so many other ancient cities and monoliths.”

“
You know them as the ancients. We know them by their true name. The elves. And we all – you and me and everyone else – came from them. You too are elves. Stone elves.” She let that sink in for a little bit. Trying to see what impact her words had on them. If they understood. If they accepted it. If they wanted to reject her words as lies. Or if they even gave a damn. Unfortunately she didn't see much that suggested anything at all from them. They just sat there, listening, but as far as she could tell, not caring. And yet what she had just told them was probably one of the most important facts any person could know. Where he or she had come from.

She had to wonder if they would care any more about the rest of it. About the true history of the world and their place within it. Still, she would tell them what they needed to know of it – just the crudest sketch – and hope that they listened.

This land Deri ti Millen – or “the wastes” as they were now known – had once been the homeland of the elves, together with Terris Lee just a few leagues north of them and Tellur el Ve, four hundred leagues to the south. That was why there were ancient shrines and temples scattered throughout them. That was why Balen Rale itself had been built. The temple had been built at the heart of the ancient world. The greatest temple the world had ever known. The temple whose spire now towered over them, casting an impossible shadow. A finger of darkness that touched even the distant foot hills of the valley.

But three thousand years ago something had happened. No one knew what, not even the eleven. All that they did know was that the elves had been broken into four peoples. And each of those people was only a part of what the original elves had been. A fraction.

When Sena saw that they had heard her words and mostly seemed to understand them, she knew it was time to tell them the rest. Even if they didn't believe her – and she saw doubt in the eyes of many – they had to understand what had happened. Why there were four races in the world. Why they had been called to this place. And why they were all dying.

“
Somehow, and we don't know how, the ancient world was destroyed. Broken. Cities were shattered, raised to the ground. The lands were torn asunder. Mountains rose and valleys fell. In places new lands arose from the sea and elsewhere other lands sank into it. But that was only a part of the damage that was done. As the world was torn apart so too were the people. The elves. In that same cataclysm the ancients were split into four separate races. Transformed in some way.”

That was another mystery to be answered. How the people had changed. But they had no true information about the days and years immediately following the cataclysm. Only a few reports written long after by the survivors. And what they spoke of was not an instantaneous transformation of the people, but a slow one that had taken years. And that from what they could tell, had continued for millennia. But the only thing they knew for sure was that it had begun with the cataclysm.

“Each of those races is but an echo of the ancients. And like an echo each of those four races is incomplete. All have some of what it was that made the elves the people they were. That made them great. But also all four races lack something of it. And that makes us all less than we should be. It's slowly killing us.”

“
Each race reflects one of the ancients' traditions. For they divided their world into four impulses. Four vocations. Four ways of life. They fell into four classes; scholars, builders, warriors and guardians.”

“
The first people I will speak of are the sun elves. These are my people and we are often thought of as the scholars. We are of the sun because we value the light of knowledge. Taller and stronger than many we show the most obvious signs of our common heritage in our white blonde hair. Once all elves had hair that was a mixture of white and colours, but the other races have lost the white and we have lost the other colours.”

“
At first the sun elves made their home in Terris Lee after the event. Just a few leagues north of this temple. It was once the realm where the largest city of the elves stood. The capital of the ancient world. Arrol der Terris. Home to millions. And many others of the greatest cities stood there with it.”

“
My ancestors had thought that it was there in the ancient cities that had once been the pride of the elven world that they would find the answer to what had happened. In the institutions of learning and discovery. But the answers weren't there. Not in all the centuries that they lived there and searched did they find the answer to what had happened. Worse, as the centuries and aeons had passed their numbers waned. They simply weren't as blessed with children as the ancient elves had been.”

“
Some of my ancestors became wanderers in time, searching the world for clues as to what had happened, and in time their descendants became the wayfarers as you know us today. But you have known little of us save that we travel the world in our wagons and are people of peace.”

“
We have retained the magic of the ancient elves and much of their knowledge. But some of the scholars claimed that we have lost their ability to fight. That we have lost their will to survive. That that is why our people's fertility failed. They say that we are peaceful not because it is the right and proper thing to be, but because we no longer contain within us the will to struggle. And that a people without that will must die away in time.”

Was that true though? She didn't know. She didn't feel as though she were weak in any way. She didn't feel that if the need arose she could not defend herself. But in truth she had never been pushed to the test. Few if any of her people ever had. They avoided conflict wherever they came across it. They ran away. And as to their fertility she often wondered if that was truly a matter of fertility as much as it was one of a lack of desire. So many of their people never had children because they never found partners. And they never found partners because they never sought them out. It was as though that part of their lives had never mattered as much to them as it did for others. As it should.

“The second people born of that event were the wood elves. The guardians of the natural world. Most of you know little of them, and for good reason. There are few of them left.”

“
They are shorter than us, brown of hair and skin and finely built, and they no longer live in these parts. After the event they slowly migrated to the fertile lands of the south, and began building their great forest home, Tellur el Ve. They have only retained a little of the magic that had once belonged to the elves, a little of the knowledge and a little of the will.”

“
But the part that they have retained is precious indeed. It is best described as the soul of the elven people. For the elves have always been of the land and the forest, and that is the heart of the wood elves.”

“
That was their saving grace and their failure both. They cannot see past the living world. They live for it and only for it. Unlike my people they are at least a fertile race; however, they could never build a city or achieve greatness. They have lost the will to set their knowledge down in books. They have become a simple race. Lost in the beauty of the forests and the purity of the water. It is a noble calling, but it is not enough.” And of course it was worse for them. Small and weak and without the will to fight, they suffered under the yoke of the dusky elves more than any other race.

“
The dusky elves were the third race to have arisen from our ancestors. The warriors. We call them dusky for the shadow that grips their souls. The shadow of war. They are fast and strong, quick with weapons and anger, but slow with understanding. Immediately after the event they made Deri ti Millen – the wastes – their home. They gathered together in tribes near where the heart of the old world had been and planned to reclaim what had been. To seize it for themselves.”

“
But they could not. They are warriors, but that is a weakness as well as a strength. Unfortunately they are only warriors. They retained the fighting spirit of the ancient elves, but neither the wisdom nor the compassion. They have become followers of the ancient god Talos, God of War. That is not a god to let rule your life.”

“
Over the millennia they have descended into barbarism. They have fought and slaughtered one another without mercy, and as the years passed they have slowly changed. Their forms have withered. Twisted. Our scholars say that they have lost a part of their soul perhaps and their flesh has responded to that loss. Their bodies have become deformed. Their teeth have become daggers, their ears have grown strange points and stick out at strange angles. They have become thinner and yet somehow also faster and stronger. It is as though the only part of the ancient elves that remained in them was the warrior spirit, and it is not enough to sustain a soul let alone the flesh.”

“
In time their wars became so terrible that they gradually began to drive themselves to the end of their days. They had killed so many that those who remained were too few. To add to their troubles they had also lost their magic but remembered always that they had once had it. They felt that loss keenly and it has made them bitter.”

Even today they spoke of Firelis, the last of the great lords of the ancients. The one who had presided over all the world at the time of the fall. And one who had been a true warrior. They blamed him for what had happened to them as though he had somehow betrayed them. They cursed his name, though they had no evidence that he was responsible. Only the tales handed down from one generation to the next over three thousand years.

“But no matter the cost, they always knew the need to fight. They had to destroy their enemies and claim the remains as their prize. And so without the ancient magic or knowledge they turned to other means to win their endless wars. Every means they could think of. In desperation they started breeding many of the terrible beasts that now roam the lands. Manticores, griffins, furies, hippogriffs and so many others. They were all just war beasts. But without magic the dusky elves soon lost control of them.”

“
The war beasts escaped naturally enough and eventually made the wastes their home. Some of them died out but many thrived to become plagues upon the world. And eventually the wastes became too dangerous for the dusky elves to live in. For anyone to live in.” Which made it somewhat ironic that as they the warriors had fled the death that they had brought upon the land, the humans – the builders – had slowly started reclaiming them.

“
They had also run out of food because they had driven out the farmers. In their soul they could never raise food or build houses. Always and ever they have to be warriors. They had no healers for the same reason and so fell victim to illness. They learned to live on their horses because there was no knowledge left to them of how to build a home. And in any case a home was always a target.”