The Solitary Arrow Ch. 18

Ealina, a young elven lass, not even yet of age, nodded. "Yes, Warleader." She stroked her own blonde hair and blinked a few times at the illusion.

"There is a problem?" Hyandai asked, her voice sounding terse.

"It is simply," the young elf said, "my home lies among those." She said, her eyes tearing up a little. "I will do as ordered, Lady Hyandai."

Hyandai's expression softened a little. "After the war, we will build you new homes, in the trees, where you deserve to live." She said.

Ealina smiled gratefully. "Yes, Warleader." She said.

"They need to be down by midday." Hyandai said. "If you wish to wake the people so they can get a head start on packing their goods, please do so, I will exempt them from duty tomorrow."

The girl dipped her head again and left the room, even as two more aides came in, better dressed but less timely in their arrival.

"Move more quickly next I call." Hyandai said negligently as they bowed their heads.

"Yes, Lady Hyandai." They said, almost in unison. They were two young lads, the same age as Ealina, or nearly so. Hyandai at merely fifty-nine regretted the necessity of putting even younger elves into harm's way the way she was going to. But there was nothing for it. They were nearly outnumbered two to one, even with the younger people in their ranks.

"Amtharlian, you are to pass word to the captains that I want four scouts sent out from each company immediately." Hyandai issued the terse commands. "They are to scour all about the town and try to get word of the enemy."

Amtharlian nodded and took off at a jog to do as she ordered without a word.

"Inlashe, you were charged with bringing in people from outlying homes last day." She said, looking down at the map. "Report."

"We recovered fifteen, Warleader." He said. "We found two homes empty and ransacked."

She looked at him. "Those people are being kept separate from the main troops?" She asked. She suspected some might be Isolationist spies, planted to get inside information from within Embalis.

"Per your orders, Lady Hyandai." Inlashe said. "Where should they be stationed?"

She looked at the map again. "Put them upon the wall, as arrow carriers and to assist with the wounded." Hyandai said. "They are not to have weapons issued. Place some spears near to them. If they are overrun, they can flee to those. Here and Here." She said this last while jabbing her slender finger at two points near a proposed palisade wall.

He nodded and fled the room. She glowered at the model village again. The sun was just barely hiding behind the horizon, and the sky was brightening with the first signs of morning. She rubbed her eyes. Another night without sleep, she thought.

"Perhaps the Warleader is sleepy?" A male voice said from the doorway, behind her.

She turned with a bit of peeve in her eyes. It evaporated as she looked upon her father. "Father." She said and smiled. "Is it so obvious?"

He nodded. "You are working yourself to death, my daughter." He said, walking toward her. "You should at least take a nap." His hand touched her shoulder.

"There is still much to do." She said, turning back to the map. "Things to prepare, walls, trenches . . .." She said.

"And they will be done." Emorianel said, interrupting her. "For now, you need rest and food. You have lost over ten pounds."

Hyandai shook her head. "I cannot eat." She said. "Keeping my mind in the Centurion's paths makes me ill. It simply does not stay."

He nodded. "I may know something that can help." He said. "Come. Take a moment and sit down with your old father and try his remedy." His hand was strong, like Harlen's but he held to her arm only enough to urge her out the door. She walked ahead of him across the footbridge to another platform, on another ornthalion, then across yet another to his small home.

She sat at the little table and smiled as he moved about the room. Her father had also been working hard these days. Forging weapons and even armor with incredible haste, leaving many items completely undecorated. She knew this pained him, but the items needed to work, and more importantly, needed to be finished, not still being inlayed as the traitors stormed the gates.

"Tell me about this man you have plaited." Her father said, starting something to boiling upon a small oval of stone that heated itself for cooking. His expression was not judgmental, simply interested.

Hyandai thought a moment. "He is much like you." She said, realizing she had said this to Harlen, as well. "Harlen is a man who does things for himself. He is also strong, maybe a little stronger than you, father." She said diplomatically.

"Is he then?" Emorianel said, with an expression of contemplation. "Should I challenge him to wrestling then?" He grinned at her.

She giggled. "He would lay you out like a sheet of steel, father, to be honest. He is huge."

Her father smiled. "I figured as much." He said. "Your perceptions are skewed by spending much time with humans. They are terribly strong, even a normal man is nearly my match." He flexed his impressively muscular arms. "A strong man, to us, is mighty, indeed."

Her eyes grew wistful. "He is strong, and he is handsome." She sighed.

An eyebrow raised on the elder elf's forehead at her amorous sigh. "I see." He said. "And you know his feelings for you?"

She nodded. "I have seen into his mind, so he could not have lied." She said. "He thinks me the most beautiful of women, and the smartest, and the most wondrous." She rattled off these traits to her father.

"All things I already knew." Emorianel said, smiling at her. He started adding ingredients to the boiling water. He thought a long moment before breaching a subject elven folk were hesitant to bring up even among loved ones.

"And your fey?" He asked, stirring the pot.

She blushed a little at the mention of her fey. Of course her father knew what fey she bore; it was part of their ceremony of acceptance into the clan.

"Harlen accepts it, though it troubles him." Hyandai said. "He says that it is the price of being blessed with my perfection." She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a giggle.

Her father turned, pouring the steaming brew from the pot into a crockery mug. He sat it before her. "Let it cool a moment." He said. "So he knows how it may drive you from time to time? Many elves could not countenance that, and humans are often more jealous than elven mates."

"We have spoken of it, and he accepted it, at least in word." Hyandai said. "It has yet to be put to a test if his will can follow his word."

"I hate to council something like this, but you should make sure that such a test is given before the betrothal is over, if you are set to marry this man." Her father advised. "It is too important that you know his reaction, in his heart."

She looked down at the cooling mug of liquid. "I do not know if I can do that consciously, father." She said. "It would be a betrayal of his acceptance to deceive him in such a thing. I would never be able to look at him or myself again."

Her father nodded. "I know, darling daughter." He said, sighing. "I knew I raised you too well, you have too many scruples." He chuckled.

"Well, yes." She said. "And I am glad for them, every day." She teased.

She began sipping the broth he had made for her. It had a sweetness to it and a meatiness. She swallowed a mouthful. Then another.

Her father stood back up and walked to the door onto the outer catwalk of this platform. "Your man sounds good. I hear he is a huntsman of Morrovale?"

"Yes." Hyandai said between sips. She found she really savored the taste of this concoction of her father's.

"Who mentored him?" Emorianel asked.

"A man named Tammer." She said. "Why would that matter, though?" He could hear the curiosity in her voice.

He kept looking toward the sun as it crested the horizon and began its ascent into the new day. "Tammer was a man I met. He was here for a time, in Embalis." He said. "He was a good man, good enough that we taught him many things. Back in those days we fancied ourselves capable of influencing men in subtle ways to make them better neighbors. We tried an experiment based on our learnings in the Windy Isles with the huntsmen of Morrovale, or some of them." He started to turn about. "I do not kno . . .." He stopped speaking as his eyes fell upon Hyandai's form. She was slumped onto the table her fiery mane spread about her slumbering head.

He picked her up gently and carried her to her old room in his small home and laid her upon her bed. She would accuse him of drugging her later, which was patently untrue. But the warmth and comfort of the broth had given her the impetus she had needed to fall asleep. She may be the Warleader of the village, but for this moment, she was his daughter.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

He awoke in almost the exact position he had fallen asleep in. His eyes slowly opened and regarded the morning for the first time in two weeks without the throbbing in the back of his head that would have reminded him of the excesses of the night before. Sun was streaming in the open curtains of the eastward window. The air had a chill to it, though. Late fall was definitely settling in. He would have to start setting a fire in the small fireplace at night soon.

Harlen turned his head, noticing the weight on his shoulder. Wendy was still there, curled up against his side, with her hand upon his chest. Her brown hair covered most of her face now, but she apparently had not moved much last night, either.

Part of Harlen's mind rebelled against this other girl in Hyandai's spot on the bed, he realized that, last night, he had unconsciously traded places with his normal spot on the left side of the bed. He was on the right side now, and Wendy was in his normal place. He smiled at his subconscious for its kind job of keeping things in their place.

Wendy stirred a few moments later, waking even more slowly than Harlen had. She blinked sleep from her eyes, and raised one hand to rub them.

"Good morning." She said, quietly, a tiny smile on her lips.

Harlen smiled back at her and ran his fingertips down her spine. "Good morrow." He responded.

Sliding from the bed slowly, Wendy took to her feet. She stretched extensively, with a couple of pops of her spine as she did so.

Harlen watched. He was certainly not immune to a pretty woman displaying herself in a show of languid stretching.

She then sat upon the bed and began dressing, a short process, considering it consisted of simply sliding into her dress and putting on her soft shoes.

By the time she had finished, Harlen was pulling his tunic over his own head, and then rummaged in the wardrobe for some pants.

She came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. He started slightly at the touch, turning his head to face her.

"Breakfast?" She asked him.

Harlen nodded. "I will make some." He said.

Wendy giggled. "I was offering to make it." She said. "But if you insist."

He pulled the pants on and slid his feet into a pair of low boots. "It's not a problem." Harlen responded. "I like making breakfast."

She followed him down the stairs into the common room. Trevir was in the kitchen, chewing on a chunk of jerked deer meat and eating an orange. When he saw Wendy, his young face registered some mild surprise.

"Trevir, good morning." Harlen said.

An immediate look of suspicion came over the lad's expression. "Morning Master Harlen." He said rather stiffly.

"So, you're Trevir?" She said. "Hyandai has told me much of you. I think you're cuter than she says, though." She walked up to him. "I'm Wendy." She said.

"Master Tammer's grand daughter?" Trevir asked, blinking between Harlen and Wendy.

Wendy nodded. "Yes. Actually." She said, smiling. "I'm surprised you've heard of me."

"Hyandai told me about you." Trevir said. "She said you were her best friend among human women. She called you an elven name, but I can't remember it. Miss Hyandai said it meant something like sister."

It was Wendy's turn now to blink, as well as Harlen's. Luckily for him, he was facing the cabinets in the kitchen. She recovered admirably quickly, though.

"Well, yes, something like a sister. Yes." She said, trying to put a face on her unique position in the couple's life. "I'm sure you will understand better after a while."

Trevir nodded. Most of the suspicion was now gone, but not quite all of it. "Miss Hyandai didn't come back with Harlen." He said, in case she did not know. "She's leading the loyal elves against the traitors in Windir."

"So I have heard." Wendy said, taking a seat opposite him and taking an apple from the fruit bowl. She slipped a small knife from her belt and began skinning the fruit. "So, tell me, Master Trevir, what is it like to be a hero?"

He grinned broadly. "I get lots of free pastries in town." He said. "And don't get chased out of nearly as many merchant's stores as before."

She giggled at that. "Well, that sounds fair enough." She commented. "No medals, though?"

Harlen was again smiling. He liked the sound of morning banter in the kitchen. He had not realized how much he had missed it, having slept through so many mornings of late.

"Nah." Trevir said. "I'd need a uniform for a medal. And huntsmen, even apprentices, don't wear uniforms."

Harlen looked over his shoulder. "That wasn't always true, Trevir." He said.

The two looked at him. "What?" Said Trevir.

"Only about a hundred years ago, huntsmen did wear uniforms." Harlen said. "They all wore green tunics with black pants."

Wendy looked at Harlen, with his green tunic and black pants. "Did they, then?" She said, smiling.

"They did!" Harlen said, noting her look of skepticism.

Trevir grinned broadly. "I think uniforms would be very nice." He said. "At least in town. Then people could say 'There walks a huntsman'."

Harlen began frying bacon. "Indeed they could." Harlen said. "But when the huntsmen became freemen, they weren't required to wear uniforms, and they slowly stopped wearing matching clothes. Now only the badge of allotment remains." He held up the small metal disk that he wore when hunting, and kept in his pocket when at home.

"Why do the huntsmen in Morrovale act different from the ones in other lands?" Trevir asked. "Nadia says she met some a couple weeks back, and they were rather crude and somewhat mean. They picked on her, being a girl and wanting to be a huntsman."

He was speaking of a female apprentice, who was the understudy of Relkan, one of the best huntsmen in Morrovale. She was Trevir's age, and he had held a crush upon her for a long while. In fact, it had ended only a few months ago, when Trevir had started speaking of the baker's daughter.

"The duke allots the land parcels to huntsmen here through other huntsmen." Harlen said. "There is a council of three senior, and retired, huntsmen, Tammer is one." He chuckled. "They try their best to keep the huntsmen they approve from year to year on the straight and narrow." His face soured a little. "They took my allotment for a year after the 'incident.' They told me that I could have it back when I had learned discipline."

Trevir winced. "Tammer was upset?" He asked.

"Extremely." Agreed Harlen. "More in my lack of self control than over doing away with the lout. Let that be a lesson to you." He pointed an iron spatula at Trevir. "Keep your head at all times. Even when your blood is boiling."

Trevir nodded. "I know. I'll try." He intoned.

The breakfast went well, and Harlen managed to talk Trevir into doing the dishes without too much fuss. He and Wendy retired to the workroom.

"I have no idea how much he should know." Wendy said.

Harlen nodded. "Me either." He said. "But I think all the truth would be a bit much for a lad his age."

Wendy giggled. "Yeah, I'll just tell one of the village's biggest newsmongers that I am Hyandai and Harlen's bedmate."

"Wouldn't that open a new world to his young eyes." Harlen said, looking at Wendy. "The lad's already confused enough from Hyandai's time here."

An odd look came over Wendy's face. "You know, I guess what I am is the girlfriend of a couple, as if you and Hyandai were one unit." She said.

Harlen though on that a moment, "That is a good way to view it." He said. He had begun to scrape some skins, removing the fur in preparation for the final parts of making it into leather. After a short while, they discovered Wendy was quite adept at this work, and she helped him through the day. It was not until they were done with the processing that he realized that, naturally, she would be good at it, she had probably helped Tammer prepare dozens, if not hundreds of pelts. "Am I strange for finding a woman so attractive?" Wendy asked.

Harlen smiled. "For finding Hyandai attractive? I don't see how." He replied.

Wendy giggled. "That is truth." She said. "Hyandai was so pretty when I met her, I couldn't believe she wanted to even speak to me. When she kissed me, I thought I might faint."

A moment passed as Harlen mulled it over. "I don't think you're really very strange." He said. "I have heard women oft kept each other company when the men were off to war, back in the days when wars were more common in the realms. Perhaps it is a normal attraction, put there just for such a reason." He gave things a moment to sink in. "I think, also, Meagan and Tessa are more than mere friends?"

"It could be so." Wendy said, grunting as she heaved a stack of pelts onto the mound he kept ready to be delivered to the merchants in town. "To both statements." She grinned back at him. "The two are rather close, and rumors in the company run rampant, though rumors do that of their own accord."

They finished up the chores. Harlen then puttered around his workroom for a couple of hours, straightening it up. It has been sorely neglected these last weeks and needed putting into order. Trevir helped out with sharpening tools and doing general running about, saving Harlen many steps. Wendy mostly sat and talked with the two of them. Learning more of Hyandai and keeping the two men chatting away happily with her good humor.

Wendy excused herself and left for the evening, telling Harlen that she would stay at her home this night. He gave her a little kiss as she left.

Trevir cornered him soon after, catching him in the kitchen. "She's more than a friend, isn't she?" He asked. He was not accusative, simply asking.

Harlen put down the pan. "Yes, in a special way, she is." Harlen answered. "But believe me, it is something you will know more of when you are older. Trust me in this."

"So long as it does not harm Miss Hyandai." Trevir said, his face quite serious.

A smile crossed Harlen's face. "It does not." He said. "I would never do anything to betray her. I think you know that."

Trevir nodded. He then set out plates for the two of them. He was much relieved to have his mentor sober for an evening, though the matter of Wendy still bothered him somewhat. All in all, he preferred Harlen sober with mysterious companionship than drunken and alone. While Harlen was not a mean drunk, he reminded Trevir enough of his real father that it scared him still, somewhere deep down inside.

They ate in silence, the forks and knives the only sounds in the small house. Harlen even allowed Trevir a glass of some of the wine he kept in the cupboard.

The two then retired to the common room with large beer mugs. Harlen picked up the book on elven lore he had borrowed. "Have you finished this?" He asked Trevir.

Trevir nodded. "I've read it all." He said. "Though I still look at it to glean more from it, especially the etchings."

Harlen thumbed through the book and found one of the illustrations. It showed a village, very much like Embalis. Perhaps the artist had even used Hyandai's home village as a model for this illustration. It did not look very defensible. Oh, the platforms, high up the trees would stand against a foot assault. But he feared they would simply be burned in, or down.