The Shining Citadel: The Light Beyond the Storm Chronicles, #2

Prologue

Commander Hendrick of the Order of Witch-Hunters was alone, having dismissed his companions save for the unfortunate victims of his wrath and his greed. A blonde-haired elf knelt at his feet and the mage, her twin, hung in chains at the wall whimpering in pain. Blood stained the stone floor crimson from the whip coiled loosely at his side.

So, scholar, you will lead us to that Citadel of which your late companions were so keen to tell. All the lost riches of the Elfkind, he said. Gripping her hair, he pulled the elf close, his mouth to her ear. A pretty thing, are you not? Both you and your sister. Now if you are a good girl, she might get to keep those looks. The Baneshackle scars will not be so bad. She might yet live to see the sun rise over your Shimmering Forest.

Dragging the elven woman roughly so she could see her weeping and bloody twin, the Witch-Hunter continued in a voice which made her blood run cold, See what you have consented to? That she lives. It is simple enough, elf.

Th'alia fought back her tears, shame and degradation pricking her eyes and burning within her far stronger than her own physical pain, yet she summoned the courage and the pride to whisper, I have a name, my sister has a name. My name is Th'alia Er'lis. We are not property. I will seek the Citadel, but for her, not for you, Witch-Hunter.

Hendrick scrutinised the elf woman and, releasing her hair, laughed at her audacity. Is that what you believe? She is a mage, an elf witch, and thus she belongs to us, to me. However, I may be persuaded to look the other way. Lead the Magelord Archos of Tremellic and that slut who shares his bed to this Citadel, allow them to perform the ritual needed to enter, and I may ignore the fact of your sister's existence.

Motioning towards M'alia he removed the whip from his belt, letting the weight of it lie in his hands as though emphasising the point, for she had felt the bite of it and both elves knew he would not hesitate to use it once more.

I will arrange escort and the required paperwork, for you cannot wander the human lands alone. Mark this, however, you will be watched. If any harm befalls your escort, if you escape from him, if you fail or deceive him, the woman who hangs in chains yonder will die. Then I will inform the slavers of what stock resides in your settlement, for if they produce more as pretty as you, the slavers will indeed pay handsomely for the information. One way or the other, I will get my gold. Surely it is an easy enough choice, the lives of strangers for those of your sister and your town.

He looked into her eyes and saw compliance if not consent, a realisation that choice was not a luxury she could afford. Th'alia nodded slowly, and with an unpleasant grin and the thought of elven treasure shining in his eyes, Hendrick said, Good girl. Your sister will not be harmed or molested. She will be safe. You have my word on that.

Th'alia turned her tear-filled brown eyes to his face and replied quietly, What is the word of a Witch-Hunter to me?

Hendrick looked over to the chained mage. Running the whip through his fingers once more, he replied, It is the word of a man who has the power of life and death. Heed it well.

With that, Hendrick unchained the mage, and instead of letting her fall, he wrapped his cloak about her and gave orders she was to be healed and removed from the cell. Casting one final glance at Th'alia, he exited, locking the door until his plans were in place.

Chapter 1

Th’alia rode into Tremellic Valley as the golden sun began to set over green hills and autumnal trees, relieved to finally have arrived after her recent ordeal. She thought back to the days which seemed so long ago and sighed sadly. It appeared to be a lifetime ago when she had left her town, honoured and excited to have been chosen to find the Lady Dii’Athella, and the information which would bring so much which had been lost to the elves, a subjugated and broken people. Now she felt only shame and despair, not to mention great fear. Thinking of her sister M'alia, she caught her breath hoping the choice she had made would not be in vain.

The edges of the Shimmering Forest grew close as they ventured along the Valley Road. Trees, although not so thickly spread as her familiar part of the forest, were still abundant and the elf found this of some comfort. Unseen by her companion, a few tears had fallen and once or twice with her eyes closed she had imagined herself safe within the wooden embrace of the mother forest. The young elf knew she could not simply turn and flee from him. Marden could out-ride her and Th'alia knew that would certainly spell not only her own death but that of her sister. Marden reined his mount to a halt and pointing to the tavern dismounted, motioning her to do likewise.

This would be as good a place as any to make enquiries, Th'alia. Besides, you need rest, and I need ale, which I hope will be a good deal better than that last place we stopped.

Nodding and glad to be off the horse, Th'alia slid down, rubbing her sore backside. For a moment, she glared at the beast, remembering why she had chosen to be a scholar. Horses were rare in her part of the Shimmering Forest and the young woman was no horsewoman. It had taken her weeks of travel along unfamiliar and rather terrifying roads and tracks to arrive at a place where she and the horse had come to an understanding. She would try not to fall off, and the horse would not look smug when she landed on her backside in the dirt.

Absently she rubbed her arm, a recent injury courtesy of the infernal beast. Marden had commented that he considered elves generally to be good with beasts. She replied that she was a scholar, not a hunter, farmer, nor herdswoman. In her anger and pain, she believed all humans to be overbearing and rude. Th’alia understood books and lore, they were easy, simple to deal with, and did not bite, kick or throw one into thorn bushes.

Marden had grinned, teasing her, wondering what he had got himself into escorting this elf woman. Then he asked if she was, in fact, trying to kill herself, reminding her of the bargain which had been struck. Marden could have forced her onwards, but they rested for a few days and he bound her arm to set the bone, which surprised her. This man did not treat her as harshly as Th’alia had feared and he did at least protect her on the roads. When they encountered the authorities and other such threats Marden had simply dealt with it. There had been an unpleasant encounter in a wayside tavern with an oafish human from which he extracted Th’alia unharmed.

The wound still pained her but she hoped no one would ask her about it and make her lie. Long sleeves covered the scars and she hoped they would not be permanent. Marden motioned her inside, and as she sat at the table, Th'alia fiddled with the silver locket she wore and waited whilst he made enquiries. Sitting alone at table, she was surprised to see she received no more than a passing glance, the sort a stranger would get but not the stares and comments she had received on the route there. Th'alia knew that no elf was free. They tended to attract comment, even hatred, and as an elf had no rights under law, they often became prey to the unscrupulous, or worse the ignorant, as she had found to her cost. Even the relatively free elves of the Shimmering Forest lived a precarious life at risk of attacks from slavers or the Order of Witch-Hunters, who did little to stop the trade of flesh and who had long past decreed elves as little better than property.

The young elf was more surprised to see a number of female elves sitting at table, mixing freely with the humans. These women did not act like servants or even whores. They made conversation as equals and were treated with respect, neither more nor less than the human women within the tavern. There was indeed an elven woman serving, but she seemed no more ill at ease than the young human girl bringing food from the kitchens. The tavern was crowded, it seemed the day's toil was done and this tavern provided a popular place to meet and be entertained, and the humans and elves were easy in one another’s company. Th'alia had never seen the like of it. She had not encountered many humans and those had not treated elves kindly.

Marden glanced around, also surprised at the number of elves. This was definitely the place, he thought. He wondered how much bribe had been paid to secure such liberties for these elves. It was not illegal for elves to live amongst humans in such a manner, so long as the necessary paperwork was in order, but it was very unusual. Elves were not citizens and he assumed these belonged to someone, probably the Lord Archos, in name at least. Not all the smaller habitations kept an Enclave, the set-apart ghetto which housed the elves and the very poor in the cities and large towns of Erana. He knew of men who would take an elven mistress or keep a concubine, or ‘Kept’ but even then such elves tended to be maintained at the whim of those whose patronage could be removed at any time. Marden was aware that Tremellic was largely left to itself, being rather remote from the plains and the mainland of Erana, and being circled by forest, river, hills or mountains.

Looking behind, Marden saw Th'alia nervously fiddling with her locket. He hoped she would be up to the task before them, for his sake as well as her own. Marden knew she did not like him a great deal, and he did not blame her for that. Yet she was obedient, at least most of the time, and he found the flashes of defiance rather intriguing. She was far more sensible than he would have been in her place. No, he thought, it was not him she disliked, it was the situation. Yet sometimes she even smiled at him and she suffered his presence with, if not good grace, at least a measure of resolution. They shared a bed. That had been part of the arrangement, initially with resentment on her part, and some initial awkwardness on his. But once they had both decided to enjoy such encounters for what they were, this had passed, at least for him. It was almost as though in those moments they were two different people.

I seek the lord of this land, barkeep, Marden said, bringing his attention back to the task in hand and ordering two tankards of ale and a plate of bread and cheese.

Erick deposited two ales on the bar and pointed to a man sitting at a table in conversation with an elven woman. A handsome woman, she appeared at ease with him and her surroundings. The small half-elven infant in her arms was sleeping, and every so often one or other would look at it and smile lovingly. That is Simon, Steward of these lands. He acts in the lord's name and he would be the man you wish to deal with.

Marden nodded his thanks, and settling next to Th'alia with the refreshment recounted, "It would seem we are to deal with the Steward, or so the barkeep has advised. It seems what we were told is true, there are many elves here. Perhaps this Lord Archos will be friendly to our cause.

You need refreshment, you are thin and you look ill. I do not want you dying on me. That would be awkward for both of us. Besides, I do actually care for your welfare. Here, please eat, Th'alia, whilst I go speak to this Steward. A brief look of concern crossed his face as he pushed the plate of food towards her.

Th'alia glared, I am not hungry. We need to speak with the human nobleman. The Steward will not help us.

Th'alia, this is not an easy task for either of us. You must eat and rest, if only for her sake and mine. I know we need to speak to this lord, but if the Steward acts for him, he may not consent to see us otherwise. I know more about the ways of humans than you do. It is common for a provincial nobleman to have a Steward to manage everything. He looked around the tavern. No one seemed to be paying them a great deal of attention but he did not want too many awkward questions if it could be helped. Quietly, he continued, Despite what you think of me, I do not want to see you suffer. We must at least appear to be together. You know we can get along, but I know you are ill and afraid and I cannot blame you for that. Eat and rest, you will feel better and that clever and lively spirit that I know is in there might resurface.

He left her grudgingly eating and walked over to the man indicated. You would be Steward hereabouts? I am Marden Harlsen. There is my woman Th'alia. We seek a private audience with the Lord Archos.

Simon looked the newcomer up and down, a warrior if he knew one. Looking over to the table he saw a thin, pale elf-woman eating slowly. Her hair was the colour of honey, her clothes were not fine but hardly ragged, and as she ate she fiddled distractedly with a locket on a chain.

Really, and what would this business be? My lord is a private man and does not wish to be disturbed for trivialities.

Marden crossed his arms, rather annoyed at the dismissal. The business is private.

Simon grinned. Is that so? Well, he will not grant an audience without my request and even then it is not guaranteed. So, unless your private business is imparted, I may decide not to bother his lordship. You could try and ride to the manor yourself, but he would not give audience to an unannounced stranger.

The Steward was amused rather than offended at the manner of this man, who expected audience with his lord without divulging its nature or further information. Simon was not a fool nor did he wish to feel Archos' displeasure, but he was sure in his position and knew the whims and caprices of his master well.

Gis'Ellah wrapped the child in her shawl and leaving the men to their business hesitated as she passed the nervous elf. Speaking in Elvish, the Steward’s wife offered some comfort. My dear, do not be afraid here. You will not be mistreated.

Th'alia found it strange to see an elven woman at ease in this human place. She found the sound of her native tongue reassuring and the woman seemed sincere. Thank you. It has been a difficult journey. I am not a horsewoman, and I am sure my mount hates me. I am not used to so many humans.

The elven matron laughed, Oh yes I understand. Simon purchased a mount for myself and my daughter. I spent many weeks falling off and with a sore behind. But now I am a competent, if not especially confident horsewoman. Like most skills it comes with practice. The key is not to be afraid of the beast. Horses know, or so Simon tells me. We ride among the hills every evening now, just the two of us. Watch the sun set over the mountains yonder.  Not all humans treat elves badly, you know. My home was destroyed but we have found sanctuary and kindness here. These are good people. We have been made welcome. I hope you find what you seek.

Half listening to the interchange between the women, Marden was curious about what they were saying. When she spoke in Elvish it unsettled him, for a moment he suspected she would reveal their true purpose, cry for help, and all would be over. When no one responded and the older woman moved off, Marden relaxed. Realising he would get nowhere without imparting a measure of trust to this man, Marden replied, I apologise sir. My woman is not well and we have had a long journey here. We require assistance.

Assistance? Simon motioned to the vacant seat. What nature of assistance? Coin, work, sanctuary?

Marden shook his head. No, nothing of that nature. I have coin, at least enough not to go begging, and I have a good sword arm. I have worked as a mercenary. We do not need sanctuary and I have papers for her. All we want is to speak to the Lord Archos. She, both of us really, seek an elven item of some value—an heirloom. We were led to believe he is kind to elves and is informed about elven artefacts, Marden said, hoping to be believed.

I will speak to him on your behalf, but he is a busy man and newly married. There are many calls upon his time. The tavern has accommodation if you wish it and I am sure the barkeep will make you welcome. Your woman will be safe enough here. She has no need of fear in these lands.

With that Simon left to seek audience and Marden returned to the table. Well, the Steward will see his Lordship, beyond that I have no idea. This item you seek, you are sure of its whereabouts?

Th'alia nodded. Oh, yes. I am sure now. If I were able to travel without escort, do you not think I would? This ring is important, both to me and my kind. What happens if he simply refuses us? What then, Marden?

Marden leaned forward and he replied quietly, yet with some threat in his voice, Let us hope he does not. Do not worry, Th'alia, it suits us both to see this through. I am here to protect you, do not forget that. They are many worse than I. Would you wish to return to the dungeon, or be sent to the Enclave? Softening his tone a little, he continued, Perhaps we can get you some healing too. The Wit...his woman, is she not a mage?

Th'alia turned her brown eyes towards him and whispered, Protection? What choice do I have? Let us just hope this lord will see and assist us.

SIMON CONTEMPLATED the new arrivals as he rode to the manor. The woman looked thin and ill and the fellow he found rather sullen. Their request was a little odd, but Simon had consented to deliver their request for an audience and so he would. At the very least he could ask for some magical healing. The country was littered with ancient ruins from the times before the Plague. Many contained old magical items, not to mention those more easily tradable to the enterprising. Archos owned an impressive collection of artefacts and trinkets, and was ever eager to increase such items of Power, the essence of magic, as he could acquire. Would this eagerness would stand the visitors in good stead when Simon informed his lord of the missing elven item.

Olek, ostensibly Archos’ manservant, greeted Simon warmly and informed him Archos was in the workshop, studying with his elven wife, the sorceress Dii'Athella. Bidding the Steward wait in the finely decorated parlour, Olek left him to the care of the housekeeper Marrissa, who had appeared with a tray containing a pitcher of spiced cider and her almost legendary honey cakes. Simon and Olek were firm friends. Archos trusted Olek implicitly and was deeply fond of the half-elf who often appeared easy-going and good-natured but was a ruthless assassin and talented thief.

Your wife and son fare well, Simon? Now, what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? Archos asked, motioning to a seat.

Simon bowed, settling in the offered seat. Yes, my lord, Gis'Ellah and little Marthis are well. The boy grows bigger every day and he eats well. I have never seen the like. This is not, however, a social call. There are some visitors from beyond the valley who have just arrived in Harkenen. A man who says he is, or was, a mercenary, and an elf woman. She seems ill and rather nervous. They are here requesting audience, something regarding a lost elven artefact, or so the fellow said.

An artefact? Archos took a slow sip of the brandy he favoured. You have no more details? I wonder what item this is. If they have travelled far to speak with me on this, it would appear they are in earnest. I will meet with them.

Of course, my lord. Your lady, she is well? Simon asked, knowing Dii’Athella had almost died at the hands of the Witch-Hunters. He liked the kind and gentle elf and knew Archos was devoted to her. Much had changed since she arrived, and Simon believed the whole of Tremellic had gained with the coming of the elves and Dii in particular.

Archos smiled warmly. My Dii grows in beauty and Power every day. Now I should return to her and our work. Bring this elf and her mercenary to the manor on the morrow.

THE ELVEN HUNTRESS and scout Ozena contemplated the limited information regarding this new elf and her companion. In her opinion, any elven item should indeed be returned to the elves. She had agreed to pay her visits to her friends and Gis'Ellah's baby whilst Olek went about his own business. Having brought her longbow, she also planned to train with those who had begun to show an aptitude for the weapon. Among their number was the young stepdaughter of the Steward and daughter of Gis’Ellah. Kaia was proving to be a formidable and spirited young woman, as her brave escape from the slavers a few months past had shown. Ozena liked the feisty Kaia and looked forward to their training and their shared happy memories of Amena, Ozena’s late sister, and of Szendro, their former habitation now in ruin. Olek trotted the horses over to the paddock behind the market square and as Ozena dismounted, she blew Olek a kiss before disappearing in amongst the gaggle of women in the marketplace.

Olek entered the tavern largely silent and unseen. Slipping into the shadows, he watched for a while, observing the elven woman, who did indeed look somewhat unwell, and the human who sat with her. He noted the sword in the man's belt, with cloth around the hilt for better grip. The scabbard and armour appeared of good quality and well maintained. If he was indeed a mercenary, he was a conscientious one, Olek thought. Both of them were decently dressed, at least better than those on the run from the Enclave or the Witch-Hunters. They did not appear particularly close. Although the human was attentive to the elf, there was a little tension. She was thin, and Olek noticed the fellow made sure she ate and was warm. Although they were not especially close, there did appear to be a little more than simply escort and elf between them, he decided.

Stepping out of the shadows, he sat down at the table. I hear you wish an audience with the lord of this land? I am his man, Olek. I will, if you wish, escort you to the manor. It is rather difficult to find for those unfamiliar with the route. Have you horses? If not we may walk. Mine will return himself in good time.

Marden looked over this half-elf, who was both confident and well-armed. The man did not behave much like any elven servant Marden had encountered before. The Witch-Hunter had noticed the respectful looks and familiar nods Olek received when he appeared. Marden thought, yes appeared was correct; he had not heard or seen the man actually enter. There was an air of watchfulness about this elf, like a cat or wolf and his movements flowed like water. The word which popped into Marden's mind was ‘thief’. For a moment, his eyes flickered to the twin scabbards this half-elf carried and he wondered exactly what this man did for his lord.

I am Marden Harlsen and this is my lady, Th'alia. We do indeed seek an audience with your master. I was afraid the Steward forgot about us. We have travelled far to seek this meeting.

Olek looked over to Th'alia, a brief glance yet he observed a good deal. Her eyes were dark brown, like the soil in these parts and her honey-coloured hair was simply pulled back over her shoulder. She seemed nervous, but that could be a result of being in unfamiliar territory, and fiddled with a silver locket. A book peeked out from the bag at her side. Not all elves could read. It certainly was not a common skill among the Enclave elves. Besides, books cost money and those in the Enclave had little enough of that. So this woman had at least enough money to both hire protection and purchase books. Although how she earned that money, Olek could not say.

You seem unwell, miss. Perhaps we can provide you with some healing? My mistress is a healer, Olek said to her in Elvish, thinking it would be comforting to the frightened girl.

Oh, no, it is an old injury, just slow to heal and I am fatigued from our journey. I am sure I will be well enough in a day or so, Th'alia replied cautiously as she observed him watching her intently.

Olek held her gaze for slightly too long, then shrugged. The woman could make her own choice. Turning on his heel, the half-elf bid them, Come then, Lord Archos awaits you.

Chapter 2

Th'alia sat awkwardly in the parlour of the manor, for she was not used to such luxury. Although highborn, even within a fair-sized settlement like Ilthendra, she was not familiar with dwellings on such a scale. Although many elves liked fine objects, most had neither the time nor the wealth to collect such items. Those which did exist were heirlooms such as the Key of Knowledge she sought, passed down through many generations from a time when the elves had both wealth and power, or items looted from the ruins of elven towns and temples. Looking around, Th’alia saw there were a good number of fine items there, including elven, human and what she guessed were trollish. Items she knew would fetch quite a price to those who could afford them, but Th’alia knew many humans collected such in order to have dominion over elves, taking pleasure in the fallen civilisation. Yet to the scholar it did not seem the case here. It seemed this man prized fine and rare objects no matter their origin.

Curiosity overcame her. Rising, she began to examine the trinkets, statues and books which rested on an ornate set of shelves carved from a deep red wood. Feeling a tingle of delight as she often did around books, Th'alia opened one to discover Elvish script within. Forgetting herself, she stroked the cover reverently. The book was old, a book of legends and myths from a time long past, yet it was both well cared for and appeared to be well-read. The walls held domes of coloured glass, soft yellow and warm orange, in which sat glowglobes now dim in the light streaming through the large, diamond-paned windows. A vase of black jasper filled with blue and purple aster blooms stood upon the table from the gardens Th’alia could see through the window.

Th'alia saw the Magelord she had been told about as he entered, relaxed, assured, and knowing he was master in this place. The fellow was handsome for a human, she thought. His long blonde and grey-peppered hair was braided back to reveal rounded ears with a slight point and pierced with many rings of silver and jet. She had known somewhere in his ancestry he must carry elven blood, for all human mages were Passers with enough elven blood to grant the magic but looking more human than elven. However, she was surprised how human he appeared. The well-trimmed goatee creased when he gave her an almost laughing smile full of mystery. Eyes of a deep, strange silver-grey watched her, eyes which saw a great deal more than most and held a goodly Power.

I am Lord Archos. Welcome to my lands and my home. My Steward informs me you seek audience in the matter of a lost elven artefact, he said, noting the book in her hands which Th’alia was hastily trying to replace.

The Archmage settled easily in a comfortable armchair strewn with cushions, over which a homespun wool throw had been tossed. A bright feminine item Th’alia decided, with its colourful red and yellow stripes. He motioned them to sit on the fine crimson-upholstered furniture.

Marden glanced to her and replied, for the both of them. I am Marden Harlsen, my lord. This is my woman, Th'alia. It is she who seeks this item, I merely provide her escort and support in these lands. I am sure you know the risks for an elf, especially a woman moving about unescorted.

The lady of the house, Dii’Athella or Dii as she was usually known, entered carrying a tray of refreshments. Wishing to see the guests, she had chosen to bring a jug of lemonade and a plate of cheese and fruit from the orchards. Th'alia looked at her, the one she sought, with the Ring of Light glowing faintly on a chain around her neck.

Dii watched Th’alia curiously intrigued that someone would travel so far to seek an audience. Carefully she laid out the refreshment, her dark blue eyes meeting Th’alia’s and smiling as she said softly, Please help yourselves. The lemonade is fresh, pressed from the lemons in the glasshouses and is most refreshing.

Archos rose as she set the tray down. May I present my wife Dii’Athella, Lady of Tremellic. He waited for her to settle before retaking his seat as the others did the same. For a moment, the scholar was flustered, but she quickly suppressed the feeling, hoping no one else had noticed. Archos raised an eyebrow but said nothing, thinking perhaps the young woman was unused to elves holding such titles. Th’alia was again rather nervous, but trying to assess the young woman who sat before them, she took a goblet of the offered refreshment and drank gratefully.

Marden found himself staring at the woman who had just entered. She was enchanting, with hair of bright red barely tamed by the ribbons which held the curls back from her unnervingly pretty face. The odd red tattoo she wore striking against the alabaster paleness of her skin, and another tattoo of black and red crept tantalisingly from the edges of the shoulderless cream blouse hinting at the promise of more below. This woman was very attractive and mysterious and he found himself held by her allure. The man in him overrode the Witch-Hunter in thinking Lord Archos was a very lucky man.

A sense of relief filled Th’alia. The Ring of Light was more than a myth. It had reacted to this young mage, the heir whom she had suffered so much to find. Although as she glanced around at the luxury and the happiness there, Th’alia feared whether the young mage would not wish to leave, for Th'alia suspected she was unaware of her heritage. Yet it was surely her duty to assist her people. She would see that. The scholar felt a stab within her from the task she had to do, but then remembered the choice she had made and why. Closing her eyes for a moment, nervous, unsure, she steeled herself, and recounted in her mind what she was to say as her fingers absently toyed with the silver locket.

Plucking up her courage, the young scholar spoke, I...my name is Th'alia Er’lis. I come to beg assistance to find an item lost to my family. I am a scholar, a Keeper of History in the forest community of Ilthendra, as were my mother and grandfather. It is his artefact I seek, an old ring called the Key of Knowledge.

A Key of Knowledge? Now you have my interest. This item − it was stolen from you? Archos asked; keen to discover more about this matter.

Oh no, it was not stolen, sir, but lost, or rather forgotten. My grandfather was an old man, and resided some time ago in a small village in the Marshes of Esherly, as you call them, far in the northeast. Many elves fled there after the Plague.

She hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, but ventured onwards. "The village suffered a number of misfortunes, a sickness fell and the survivors were forced to leave. Grandfather was old, age and malady had robbed him of his sight, and in the hurry to leave, this item, a few scrolls, a map and a journal of his life, were forgotten. I would love to have the journal for it recounts his life and his lore, although much he retained in his head. There would be much information if his papers could be found, at least I hope so.

The Key of Knowledge was a ring, but on a cord which could be hung about his neck, similar to the way your lady wears hers, and his fingers were bent with age. Perhaps in the rush to leave, the cord was broken. The ring is, I believe, still within the village and I promised a blind and dying old man I would seek it and return it to our family and to our community. He was ancient when he died, perhaps the last survivor of that time. He never forgave himself for leaving it behind. It was his honour and his pride.

Archos leaned back, The Marshes of Esherly are a good distance from here. In fact, many days’ journey, and populated by a number of unpleasant creatures. I can see why you may need assistance.

Th'alia looked at him in earnest. My lord, I was informed you are kind to elves and a renowned scholar in the matter of artefacts and where to find them. Humans who are sympathetic to elves are known among my people but such are rare. I have travelled far to ask aid in this. I am no warrior, nor have I had experience in finding such items. Although Marden protects me, we know not what lies ahead. Would you not wish for an item of such influence and renown to be returned to my people, your wife’s people?

May we help her? Perhaps after we may travel, as you suggested? Perhaps also we may find other items of note for your research, Dii whispered, kind and generous as she was.

Indeed, I would see it returned! They are items of legend, the keys to the Great Libraries within the Citadels of the elves. Most of the knowledge was lost when the elves fell, Archos said.

Th'alia smiled and for a moment she flushed, brown eyes shining with pride, My ancestors were among the Keepers of Knowledge in one of the Citadels, sir, in generations past, serving the families who ruled.

We will leave in a week. That should give us long enough to make preparations and collect supplies. I suspect there will not be many taverns or places for accommodation in the Marshes of Esherly and the swamps beyond. Archos raised Dii's hand to his lips and kissed it softly, feeling her excitement. Turning his look to Marden he continued, What is your interest in this? For it seems a good distance to travel for such an item.

Well sir, it is simple enough. Th'alia could not travel alone across these lands and I found myself in need of coin and amusement. When she appeared alone in the tavern, I simply offered my services. Since then, I have become quite fond of her. Besides, there may be other items of note to trade or sell. I am a mercenary, but such work can often be hard to find. I earn my coin where I can. One cannot be choosy about who pays the bills in my line of work. She has the necessary papers, although she would still be unable to travel freely, of course.

Archos nodded slightly, knowing the risks facing a young elven woman travelling alone and feeling this heirloom must indeed have great value for her to take such risks.

Dii smiled at Th'alia, I am informed you have received an injury. I have knowledge of herbs and healing, I would be happy to offer you some comfort.

No, my lady, it is nothing. I am not a good horsewoman, my mount bucked and I was thrown. My arm was broken I think. It was bound but it is mending. Rubbing her arm, Th’alia felt awkward at the fuss, rather nervous of the kindness being shown her under the circumstances. I have just been rather fatigued by the journey, travelling across the human lands, you understand. Marden did what he could but we could not spare much time to rest. I do not like to make a fuss.

Dii looked at her with concern, A broken arm is hardly nothing. It is a serious injury. If it has not set properly you may be left with some permanent pain and weakness. It is nothing to be ashamed of, accidents occur. Please let me help you. Besides, if we are to travel, we all need to be well and whole. To start such a long and potentially risky journey in such a state is foolhardy.

Noting the apprehension, Dii continued softly, I have a good balm in the stores which should help you. At least let me bind it for you and provide some comfort.

Th'alia nodded, not wishing to be rude, and as her arm still pained her she was grateful, if embarrassed, by the attention. Dii gently led her to the kitchen and the strong smell of the herbs hanging in bunches from the rafters and walls filled the air. The room was warm, served as it was by the large fire in a well-used hearth. Large copper pots and kettles hung above both the hearth and a large stone sink equipped with a rune providing running water. Marrissa, the elderly housekeeper, nodded respectfully and moved to assist when Dii explained what was needed.

Sitting Th’alia close to the fire, Dii rolled up Th’alia’s long sleeve, and unwound the bandages. A deep wound lay below, healing slowly but showing signs of infection. Dii could see some form of poultice had been applied by someone with at least a basic knowledge of healing, and the bone had been set, although it was not well-knit. The injury must have caused significant discomfort, and the young woman must have been determined indeed to find her heirloom in light of such pain. Injuries like this could indeed cause a lasting disablement if not treated correctly. As Th’alia winced, Dii’s keen eyes saw the thin, faint crisscross scars, which so much resembled her own. Wondering about them, Dii decided not to mention them to the nervous elf. Her touch was tender as the wound was cleaned and a strong-smelling poultice applied. The concoction warmed and soothed, and Dii gently manipulated the arm, discretely letting healing magic flow from her fingers, mixing with the healing herbs and boosting them. Chatting to the young scholar, asking her about her town and her family, Dii both provided comfort and removed attention from the soft blue glow of her magic. Dii smiled, although she took the pain into her own arm, feeling the sharpness of the wound and again marvelling the young elf could have travelled so far.

Th’alia tried to guess what was in the balm with its pungent odour but was no herbalist. She knew of course Dii was a mage, but being polite and not wanting to startle the young woman, she mentioned nothing about the healing magic, for they both knew magic was illegal. The tingling warmth crept along the wound lessening the pain, and Th’alia was much relieved as Dii carefully bound her arm once more.

Is that not better? You have been travelling with this for some while and there is a little infection. You are lucky it was not a good deal worse, but I see you did what you could. The bone has mended badly. What I have done should ease it a little, but do try and rest it and keep it bound stiffly until the bone settles. Looking around the shelves and opening sealed boxes until she found what she needed, Dii held out a small greenish bottle. This contains a tonic, to be taken with tea or hot water. It should boost your immunity. Such a wound can be a shock to the system.

Thank you, my lady. I do not deserve your kindness. The arm has been troubling me for some time, truth be told, Th'alia confessed.

Dii patted her shoulder, You are welcome. I will make some more for our journey. I would imagine a swamp is not the healthiest of places, and it is best to be prepared. Do you not agree?

Archos smiled as the women returned to their seats, pleased to see the young scholar looking a little better. You will, of course, be our guests whilst we make arrangements?

Marden looked surprised, Sir that is indeed generous. We have some items still at the tavern which will need fetching. Whilst we are here, I would like to see in which area we will be traversing, if that is possible. That region is not familiar to me.

The Magelord merely replied, Well, as we are to be travelling together, it would seem sensible would it not? At this time of the year, we will need suitable attire. The large market comes in a day or so. That should suit our needs. Olek will ride back with you. The path can be difficult to those who do not know it.

OLEK ESCORTED THEM to the edge of the village before collecting Ozena from the afternoon’s archery training session. She had grown in confidence greatly and was now surer in her position within the community, so he stood and watched with a grin at the petite elf giving orders and instruction to villagers larger than she. He could not contain a laugh as he saw Ozena move to show the blacksmith, Stefan, the art of archery; the large, powerful man with a long bow nearly as tall as Ozena, being given a good-natured scolding for his mistakes. Olek, with a couple of others, provided training in the art of swordplay, suggesting to Archos that a village in which the citizens could defend themselves was its own best defence.

After the attack on the nearby elven village of Szendro—which had all but been destroyed by both slavers and the harsh and corrupt Order of Witch-Hunters—and considering the other influential men they had recently upset in their attempts to rescue the stolen elves, Archos decided to increase the defences. He knew the slavers would sometimes take humans as well as elves, filling the slave markets in Erana and beyond, and the Witch-Hunters caused a good deal of inconvenience with their rare visits, though of course there was the real possibility the visits would become less rare. Olek knew the level of bribes Archos paid, the influences he had, which meant the Witch-Hunters often ignored them, at least until such time as it suited them to turn their gaze that way. They both knew the Witch-Hunters would not ignore the Tremellic Valley forever, so a perimeter stockade had appeared, at least around Harkenen, and the bandits watched the roads. Yet such defences and training would take time and the residents were primarily farmers, traders and craftspeople, not archers or warriors of much experience, although some showed promise.

Marden wrote a simple note, mentioning no more than that he was due to leave in a few days, and was well enough. The tavern to which he directed it had no allegiance to either the Witch-Hunters or their enemies, and the way-point rider who would collect it would merely pass it on to a contact. On the chance it was intercepted, it looked innocuous enough.

Leading Th’alia upstairs, he said quietly, You did well, scholar. I am glad you have been healed. I am not such a terrible person that I like to see you in pain. Now rest, eat, and gather your strength. The plan moves forward as we require.

I...I cannot do this! They are kind, how can you stand to do this? Th’alia replied desperately.

Grabbing her arm, he snapped, Remember the reason girl—your sister’s life. I do not like this either. If the plan is discovered, do you think I will be allowed to live? If I return unsuccessfully, do you think I will go unpunished? The Order does not like failure. Remember what I am, Th’alia!

Seeing the fear and the shame in her, Marden softened a little. You are a strong woman, Th’alia, and clever. You must be to have survived the dungeon, to have chosen what you have. Look, this is a bad situation for both of us, let us try and make the best of it we can.

Th’alia simply walked away from him, pulling away from his grasp. She picked up her few belongings, replying in a quiet voice, I know what I must do. Believe me, Marden, I know it.

Chapter 3

Absently, Th'alia twisted the locket around her neck as she thought of her twin, praying to the elven gods to watch over her sister and to give her the strength to do what she must. The silver locket brought her comfort, as the only link she now had to M’alia and her home. She hoped M’alia was still alive and had indeed been moved somewhere better, but every time she closed her eyes she saw her twin hanging in chains and bloody, the pleading look in her eyes. A small thought in her head piped up, pleading with Th'alia not to accept her task, to let M'alia die, to let them both die rather than to betray herself, her people, and her new friends. Another voice shooed it away. This voice told her, You can save her, your twin, the other half of you, or at least buy her some time. Perhaps you can think of a plan.

Lying back on the large, luxurious bed, she rubbed her arm thinking the wound certainly felt a good deal better. She was grateful, such wounds had been known to cause permanent impairment. The young scholar knew why she had consented to this, no that was not the correct term, been coerced into agreeing to lead the Lady of the Light and her human husband to the Citadel, assuming of course they were able to find the Key of Knowledge. She hoped she would be able to persuade them to continue on the journey once they had further information.

Her grandfather had told her many tales of the Citadel and the Great Library, and even now when she thought of all the knowledge there, Th’alia got a warm feeling, a little flutter of excitement. Suddenly she asked herself if it even still existed, and if they would be able to find it, and the flutter in her belly turned to fear. If the ring that held the Key of Knowledge was lost, had already been plundered or was simply a myth, then she would fail. Th’alia did not want to think about what would happen if she failed.

Th’alia let the tears flow, and then pulling herself together, sought distraction from her worries. She would need to speak with her host, she decided, to discuss what arrangements should be made. She was seeking aid and would not leave it all to him. Despite everything, Th’alia had some pride in her skills and her occupation. She would see to it that she could offer them what knowledge she held when the time was right and do her duty, such as it could be. She thought darkly she would have to try to make the best of the situation, and with a grimace, she realised that was what Marden had said. Rising, she went to find the Lady Dii’Athella, to seek her wisdom and company, suddenly not wanting to be alone with her thoughts in this strange house.

My lady, the Lord Archos has allowed me to use the library. I would very much like to see it, but do not know where it lies. I would like also to thank you for the healing. I did not mean to appear ungrateful. I was rather tired and far from home, you understand. It has not been an easy journey through the human lands.

Yes, yes, I understand. It can be very daunting to be an elf travelling in these lands, but at least you have escort. You have been ill. A few days of rest should do you much good, and the library is wonderful, Dii replied, sympathetic and kind.

Taking her hand, Dii led Th'alia to the library, and as she opened the door to the large, well-stocked and impressive room, Th'alia gasped and ran inside, full of excitement. Truly it is wonderful, you are so lucky! There is so much knowledge!

That is how I responded when first I set eyes upon it. I had never seen the like. My husband likes books and knowledge, and he likes to collect and preserve such items, as you can see. I spend a good deal of time in this place, I adore it. I do not think I will ever learn all there is in here if I live a thousand years, Dii laughed, eyes shining with joy.

Leading a spellbound Th’alia through the shelves, she gestured to the rear. There are books in Elvish, Trollish and even some in languages I have never heard of. We have maps and scrolls from all over Erana, places I have never seen, and there is even a map of the stars. Please feel free to browse, but just replace the books where you find them. I will fetch us some refreshment.

Oh yes, please, my lady. I feel my appetite returning. May I ask a question? why is it you choose to fetch the refreshment when I have seen a serving woman about? the scholar asked.

You are our guests. Why should I not entertain you? The housekeeper is elderly and I do not like to put her to more trouble with something I can do easily myself. The house is large and she has many calls on her time. Dii replied, with a shrug.

Th’alia nodded, although she was not entirely sure she agreed on the appropriateness of such behaviour, but did not wish to appear rude and she didn’t know whether the humans usually had such customs. Deciding not to comment, and still rather over-awed and nervous, she asked another question that