XI. Small Victories

When the skies did not drench them in a torrential downpour, the air was humid under the grey skies. The moisture hung in the air, creating rainbows against a nearly intolerable glare. Almost mockingly, the sunlight was visible across the horizon in nearly all directions; it was if the cloud coverage followed them across the plains. Even the steady, hypnotic roar of the ocean as it crashed against the chalk cliffs became insufferable under these conditions.

Travel had been slow and tedious since Aichlan and his band left Nole. Four men had died, and a lengthy funeral ensued, which lasted five days, ending at dawn on the fifth day. Each day was marked by a different series of events, topped off with drinking and feasting on their dwindling supplies and fresh caught game. Ashe had been put on an opposing team during one of the hurling tournaments, and she did in fact embarrass him in front of the lads. While it had been a welcome diversion and genuinely fun experience, he was grateful when they packed up and hit the road once more.

Much to his surprise, the haughty mage and her lone knight escort decided to tag along, though to what end, no one could guess; and both women were infuriatingly tight lipped about their motives. Aichlan grew more impatient with each passing day, with each mile marched he was reminded that they traveled in the opposite direction of Nassica and Renata, and the Colby-Nau capital of Rhode was still over a month away.

The weather took a turn for the worse as they waded through the waist-tall grass on the windswept plains of Lárione. The nation of Sorn was an oddly arranged kingdom, with large tracts of land in the interior utterly devoid of settlement, colloquially known as the Grass Sea; it made traversing the region difficult and forced the elves to hug the coast as they traveled west. The Bay of Woe sporadically popped into view to the south as the surmounted several rises. The land was hilly and littered with sheer seaside cliffs that had a habit of sneaking up on the unwary traveler in an instant.

Things were particularly dreary for the Colby-Nau, attuned with fire, stone, and the very soil beneath their feet; in short, they did not particularly care for the constant wetness. After spending weeks in damp boots and socks, with the pruned skin peeling from his feet, Aichlan could not blame them.

After all the confusion at Nole, he now held a place of honor in discussions between Kielan and his lieutenants: Cinaéd, his brother, and Eth, his brother-in-law (surprisingly married to Kielan’s sister, Io). He had taken to sharing a tent with Ashe; though he excused himself by explaining it was warmer than being out under the stars with naught but a shabby blanket, and she insisted to better track the progress as his wounds healed. These explanations did not exclude him from the nudges and winks from the men of the camp, however. Nor could he deny that he enjoyed spending the nights with her curled up in his arms, and while nothing explicit happened, curious hands had wandered on a number of occasions.

“Thank you for having us.” Fiora almost whispered from across the fire.

The Elves nodded and some raised their flasks in a brief salute before returning to their own conversations and celebration of the recently fallen. Aichlan prodded at the flames as he wondered about where the women were from and how they wound up in Nole. After the fiasco in the town hall, Fiora had spent much of the day laid up on a cot as she recovered, and Alice remained guarded and did not wish to speak to anyone until her friend awoke. Even in the days after, they stayed to themselves, perhaps still unsure of their new hosts. He could gather from her knowledge of ancient fey tongues and bearing that Alice came from old money somewhere in Briartach, though there was still something familiar about her that he could not quite put his finger on.

Fiora looked much healthier now that she had bathed and had a few square meals. She was strong enough, but her form needed a little polish, she relied too much on the weight of the blade and not enough on the deftness of which she wielded it. He was a bit more concerned, however, by how she seemed to partake of the Rhodean ale quite often. She even started to have a little paunch common in old soldiers and alcoholics. It did not appear to affect her performance, and she was not a belligerent drunk, so he was content to let her be.

Aichlan leaned back against a pile of rucksacks and chewed on a sprig of mint. For the first time in weeks, the stars were visible in the night sky. He picked at a roast hare handed to him before he passed it to Alice. She graciously took the meat and hungrily bit into it, smearing grease across her face.

“So, what brings you two out this way?” Aichlan asked as he tossed a stick to the flames. “And why was that town overrun by bandits?”

The two women exchanged worried glances before Fiora spoke up. “I am First Lieutenant Fiora Fluorspar of Sorn; my unit was dispatched to Nole several days ago in anticipation of Xanavien aggression.”

“How many?” Aichlan asked.

Fiora dipped her head, attempting both to avoid and maintain eye contact. “T-two hundred. Sir.”

Aichlan nodded slowly as he stared into the flames. Sorn’s king had sent troops to aid Elysia as well, but that had amounted to no more than two or three hundred, as Sorn is not that large or wealthy of a kingdom. With Duvachellé forever pushing their borders south across the Silver River, he likely kept the majority of his forces north with hopes that Elysia would protect them from the Xanaviens. Unfortunately, for him, that left the kingdom susceptible to the rogues and brigands known to roam the Sorn peninsula and expanses of western Duvachellé. Honestly, he was surprised the two women made it this far.

“And you?” Aichlan asked as he jerked his head in Alice’s direction.

Alice scrunched her face up in irritation at the manner in which he addressed her. “I suppose you want my name and occupation as well then?”

Aichlan chuckled to himself and offered a sarcastic bow. “If it pleases my lady.”

“Humph. Do not mock me sir.” Alice turned up her nose and placed a pompous hand to her heart. “As for your query, I am Alice Catherine Templeton the First. Daughter and Heir to the Duke of Briartach, Charles Templeton the Third.”

If Aichlan had been drinking, he would have spit it out. Ashe caught the look of surprise and looked the woman over quizzically.

“What’s all that s’posed tae mean then?”

“It means she’s the king of Aes Sidhe’s cousin.” Aichlan snapped.

Just my luck he thought. He had been planning on dumping the two at the first town. While a soldier, Fiora was not anything more than a grunt, a liability, let alone her incompetent mage friend. This revelation changed things significantly however, assuming it were true.

“An ‘ow was I s’pposed tae know that? Cheeky…”

He chose to ignore Ashe’s gentle rebuke as he stared at the young mage from Briartach. The green eyes slightly curled blond hair and a not too subtle air of pretentiousness; she was without a doubt who she claimed. While she had not been but a babe and himself not much older, they had met before. If he remembered correctly, she annoyed the hell out of him with her penchant for throwing tantrums and making demands based on her title and standing as the King’s favored kin. The daughter of a sylph and man, an occurrence in that family line once every two centuries or so, whenever such a union bore fruit, that child was said to reign and bring in an era of prosperity for the kingdom. Superstition it may be, but this woman was essentially royalty.

As the fire crackled before him under her questioning gaze, he swore and took a swig of ale. If his situation were not confusing enough already, her revelation complicated it ten-fold. Directive from the gods or not, he was honor bound to see her to safety. While Aichlan needed to get her home but could not very well just pick up and march back to Aes Sidhe. The route through the ruins of Elysia and Arlien was simply not an option.

He muttered under his breath, attempting to discern his mission; or whatever it was Garrick wanted of him, and if a detour of that magnitude would be permitted. The road to Marquez was likely not going to be an easy one, though he could likely charter her a ship or have Laelianus provide an escort back home for the girl, it was less than ideal to take her with them. Light knows Laelianus would love the opportunity to get Aes Sidhe in his debt.

“My lady, I know not yet how, but I shall do all in my power to return you safely to Briartach.”

Alice scoffed and glanced suspiciously at him from the corner of her eye. “And you are? What does a knight of The Order want of reward for? Does not your kind forswear all title and possessions? Have you deserted? No, I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere with you.”

“It is kind of you to offer sir,” Fiora interrupted, knitting at the hem of her tunic as she stared into her lap. “But I have already taken up that task.”

While he could not blame the two women for their caution, he was beginning to lose his patience. If it were any other noblewoman, king’s kin or not, he would have dropped it there, but old king Céolsige was a dear friend of his father’s. When he was twelve, his father took him to the capitol and they had lunch together in the garden, a memory he still looked back fondly on. The king supped on brandy and cigars while he reminisced on past glories in the war with Garrick, all the while bouncing a sprightly little girl with wild flaxen hair on his knee. He could not very well leave her with some lowly Sorn infantrywoman, who once already nearly got them both killed. Surely even Garrick would tell him to take care of the king’s favorite cousin and ostensible heir before all else.

Aichlan ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I am no simple knight, nor am I a deserter my lady.” He locked his eyes with Alice, pointing his hand to his heart, “I am Grandmaster Aichlan of Westfaire, Baron of the Land between rivers and son to General Garrick. I am on a mission to Duvachellé, to rally a force to retake Elysia. I am also in your service.”

Alice perked up immediately. “Aichlan you say?”

He saw the spark of recognition in her eyes and shuddered. She had been a real taskmaster, even at a young age, prone to getting into trouble, but offering some quite memorable adventures. He doubted she recalled them. He hoped she did not recall them.

“Elysia has fallen?” Fiora blurted as she bolted upright.

“Aye,” Aichlan slowly tore his gaze from Alice and motioned for the young Lieutenant to sit down, “I barely made it out of Arlien with my life. They mistook me for the dead and tossed me to the river.”

Fiora made the sign of The Dawn and plopped back down on the dirt. “Then I must return to the capitol.”

She tugged at her hair as she chewed her bottom lip, all color had drained from her skin. Aichlan and Kielan exchanged a knowing glance. Fiora caught the exchange and looked to both of them with panic growing in her eyes. Aichlan took up his mug again, hoping someone else would volunteer the sad tale of defeat. He was sick of telling it.

“What?” Fiora’s voice was shrill, like one on the edge of panic, “What aren’t you telling me?”

Kielan retrieved a cigar from his pouch and put it to his mouth. “Before the Tear turned to the sea, we saw a column o’ black clad soldiers marchin’ to the west along the main road.” He snapped his fingers and lit it with the ensuing flame, “That’s why we’ve been stickin’ to the coast. One of ‘em at least.”

“Ah yes,” Alice said as she hammered a small fist into her open palm. “The son of the Great General Garrick, hero of the Rhodarcian campaign. My cousin won’t shut up about you.”

Aichlan raised an eyebrow as he set down his mug. “Me?”

Alice nodded as she nibbled at the now bare hare’s leg. “Céolsige was rather cross with Garrick when he shipped you off to The Order. He wanted us to be wed.”

Aichlan coughed as he choked on his ale at the revelation. Ashe gave him a hearty slap on the back that did little to remedy the situation. He hoped she did not have any desires to fulfill her cousin’s wishes, the last thing he needed was more complication in his already complex romantic life.

“Ye a’right?” She spat, her eyes boring daggers into him.

He held up his hand and nodded through the fit of coughing.

“When did you plan on claiming your estate?” Alice demanded, wiping the grease off her mouth on Fiora’s sleeve.

Aichlan pounded his chest to clear the last of the ale from his lungs. “My estate?”

“Your father left you a substantial amount of property in the delta, as well as the house in Westfaire. Unless of course you intend on wasting the king’s money and kindness while he continues to staff and maintain two unoccupied houses.”

“I’ve been away from home for a few years and in case you’ve not noticed there’s a war on in the region.”

“Your father did not die a pauper,” she said with a condescending flip of her hair, “you could have taken your leave of The Order at any point, provided you pay the fine. The Aes Sidhean Army would have garnered you far more glory than that uniform ever brought anyhow.”

“Alice, perhaps that’s enough…” Fiora pleaded as she twisted the hem of her tunic.

He rolled his eyes and took the cigar passed to him. She was as arrogant as he remembered. Nevertheless, he bit his tongue if she were anyone else…

“I did not stay for glory,” leaned towards her and jabbed his finger into his thigh for emphasis, “and I don’t march to Duvachellé for honor.”

Alice grimaced. “Don’t tell me it’s for love.”

Aichlan was silent, unsure of how wide known his affair was.

Alice scoffed and waved him off. “By Dawn, that’s even more cliché than the others.”

“And what of your uniform? Unlikely you intend to join the mage corps.” He shot back, regretting his proclamation to see her home safely.

“I’ve just completed phase one and my reasons are my own.” She paused to rethink her obstinate stance. “But if you must know the basis is in the pursuit of knowledge and understanding.”

Aichlan nodded, though neither convinced by or satisfied with her reply, he just wanted her to shut up. Recent graduates of The Academy of Magical Arts, as it was called, were required to travel the world seeking experiences for ten years before returning to be graded and granted a title.

He generally avoided mages, they were too hard to predict and engage. While one good whack was usually good enough to finish them, they tended to stay well out of range of swords and lances.

Though, why an Aes Sidhean noblewoman of such renown would embark on such a journey was another matter. Usually socialites, such as herself, went to the Academy as the first leg in a tour to of the great cities; Marquez, Nassica, Hallthor, Rhodundal, and Sarevon before heading home. For her to come to an illegitimate kingdom such as Sorn must have meant she was thoroughly bored. They also generally studied philosophy or one of the social sciences; very few actually learned any magic. For whatever reason she did though, which only served to make him even more curious.

“How did you wind up in Nole? Surely you would have been detained and sent home once the border guards saw you held a Royal passport, we’ve known about Xanavenes ambition for a while now.”

“They came in by sea,” Fiora began as she stared into the fire, holding her knees to her chest. “They came in right after Alice’s ship docked. We hoped and prayed it was a shipment of much needed supplies but got an ambush instead.”

After a moment of somber silence, the Colby-Nau steered the conversations back to tales of the past battle. Aichlan jestingly asked about Alice’s poor marksmanship and seemed to have struck a nerve. Fiora agreed that her friend was extremely nearsighted and required eyeglasses but explained that Alice became offended whenever the issue was brought up.

“There is nothing wrong with my sight!” She snapped as she wiped grease from her face on the back of her sleeve.

“But Alice,” Fiora said giggling. “He was ten paces away and you still couldn’t hit him!”

She continued laughing as Alice pouted and cast the bones into the fire.

Eth, who sat across from Alice, raised a tattooed hand with thumb and middle finger extended. “Oi, how many fingers am I holdin’ up then?”

Alice casually glanced at first, and then squinted, struggling to focus. “Ha, ha, Eth. You don’t have any fingers.”

Alice stood in frustration at the outburst of laughter.

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you people, there’s nothing wrong with my eyesight!”

The laughter continued, and Alice became increasingly cross. Aichlan smiled to himself and reclined once again. She was a spirited young woman, privileged and often oblivious, but she was not as haughty and caught up on lineage like some others he’d met. While she certainly had an attitude, she had not used her title to command respect once. Not that those present were likely to care anyway.

Perhaps she was telling the truth, and she did enter the academy to learn more about the world, or more likely herself. Either way, she could prove to be dead weight, especially if she was as blind as he and Fiora suspected.

“If I’m as blind as you all say I am, how is it that I graduated top of my class—with honors mind you—in incantation, spell origins, and history? And let’s not forget potions and elixirs brewing, but frankly those things are better left to a pharmacist.”

Aichlan prodded the fire as he regarded their new mage. He would have to ask her when she was last in Aes Sidhe; perhaps she could bring him news of his homeland. His experiences in Briartach were limited however, and the city was so massive it was considered a nation of its own. It is likely that she had at least visited the Tower Delta in any case; it would be refreshing to connect with a fellow Aes Sidhean after so many years in Elysia. He laughed to himself, if he was willingly looking forward to speaking to Alice, he had perhaps had enough of the ale.

“How about practical applications and target practice?” Fiora managed between fits of giggles.

Alice blushed and stormed off. “Aw, what the hell d’you know anyhow?”

Fiora reached up and grabbed her friend’s arm, bringing her tumbling on top of her as they both broke into fits of laughter. Ashe smiled and locked arms with Aichlan, resting her head on his shoulder. He shifted, looking around self-consciously, blushing upon catching Eth’s toothy grin.

“I think it’d be in ennall oor best interests if ye invest in a pair o’ spectacles when we reach the next town,” Kielan said as he puffed on a cigar of dried herbs.

Since joining the elves, Aichlan had learned of and become quite fond of the intoxicating properties of the herbs Kielan used.

“I can see just bloody fine.” Alice pouted as she angrily crossed her arms. “Things just tend to get a bit fuzzy the further away they are is all.”

Silence finally settled over the camp, only the crackling of the fire, croaking of frogs, and chirping insects dared to break the drone. Aichlan felt at peace for the first time and was overcome with guilt at the thought. There was too much at stake to be content. He took a drag from the cigar before handing it off to Ashe. He could not remember the last time he felt this comfortable though: a full stomach beneath the summer night sky, good friends, and a beautiful woman at his arms…

Ashe caught his troubled expression as she took the cigar “What’s wrong?”

The sincere concern in her voice made him feel even worse.

“Nothing. I was just thinking of the path that’s laid before me, my inevitable confrontation with Osric and…” He could not finish.

“…And Renata, right?”

Aichlan nodded. He hated himself for leading Ashe on as he was; he swore to himself that it was not intentional. Nevertheless, if he wanted to convey that he had no interest in her romantically, he could have easily done so. He continued to skirt around the fact that he was deluding himself. There was no guarantee that he would face Osric, or that doing so would even be the solution to the problem. As far as he or anyone really knew, Osric probably was not even real. Some name with no rank, title or history thrown out into the informant circles to confuse and disorientate enemies.

“My only hope is to reach Duvachellé, picking up any stragglers along the way.”

Even as he spoke, his success felt distant at best. His rank and affiliation with The Order could only go so long when building an army of remnants and those who have already suffered defeat at the hands of the foe he sought to vanquish. If Osric could brush aside Aes Sidhe and Rhodarcium with such ease, what could he hope to accomplish?

Aichlan looked up from his thoughts as Alice and Fiora frantically gestured at one another. Alice stopped and smiled sheepishly as she caught his puzzled look. He had no idea what the two women wanted, and frankly did not much care. Despite the lighthearted atmosphere that evening, it did not change the dire state of the rest of the world, and the uncertainty of Renata’s fate.

“Ahem,” Alice began, fidgeting nervously as she continued. “My esteemed colleague has something she wishes to ask of you. Fiora.”

Fiora looked up with a startled gasp, “Me?”

Aichlan noticed how young the women were, especially Fiora. After she had doffed her armor and let her hair down, she did not have the look of a soldier but rather a child caught up in something beyond her ken. Alice could not be more than eighteen or nineteen, and Fiora only a year or two older at most. Both were attractive young women, which lead Aichlan to wonder why they had chosen their professions. Alice had definitely not joined to become an army mage; such was a life unbecoming and frankly not allowed for women of her upbringing. Fiora on the other hand was most likely serving a mandatory tour of duty.

“It primarily concerns you, as a subject of Aes Sidhe he’s obligated to heed my requests.” Alice said dismissively.

While her assertion was not wrong, Aichlan found himself growling under his breath, regretting all the nice things he had previously thought of the woman.

“Well, as she was saying my lord. Um, if it pleases my lord, which is…”

She twisted the meh of her blouse as she fumbled to sound as formal as possible. Likely to avoid sounding like a backwater hick as much as to show respect for his rank and office in The Order. Aichlan chuckled to himself; she acted just like the new soldiers he would help train, doe-eyed and unsure of themselves. He would have to do something to break her from that habit, but for now, he just wanted her to finish what she was saying. He didn’t want to seem too harsh but wasn’t in the mood for dealing with low ranking soldiers afraid of titles and the number of bars on a sleeve. Least of all at such a time when it mattered so little.

He held up his hand to halt further embarrassment. “Fiora, please, for the sake of expediency, just call me Aichlan. Formalities are unnecessary at the moment.”

The young knight looked hurt, relieved, and shocked all at once. She smiled weakly and continued: “If it is suitable for my lord, I mean Aichlan, Alice and myself would like to accompany you to Duvachellé.”

What the hell brought this on? is what he wanted to say, but politely considered their proposition instead. He had intended to lead Alice to Port of Romance in Duvachellé and send her back to the king with a request for reinforcements, but the more he got to know of the woman the more he realized that was an unlikely outcome. There was also no guarantee that the Colby-Nau would be willing or able to accompany him to Duvachellé. As far as he knew they always stayed out of human politics, and most nations were wary of them if they even knew of their existence. His journey would be better with companions, but he did not know how Fiora would hold up in a battle. She had raw potential yet lacked certain finesse. Taking them was a better option than leaving Alice to the care of Fiora alone, but if he wound up babysitting both, it would be a wash. Moreover, what about Alice? Would she even be able to hit the target when it came down to it? Would she strike friend instead?

His true concern was what would become of him once Osric was defeated. He had died at Arlien, what fate awaited him after his task was completed? He was so worried about the heiress; he didn’t take time to consider his own fate and whether or not he’d even be able to see his promise through. It was reasonable to assume that he would get a second chance at life. In fact, it was more than reasonable, but reason was a trait Garrick rarely embodied, not to speak of whomever he was working for. Aichlan fidgeted as he noticed the two women eagerly awaiting a response.

“Yeah… so what about Sorn?” He took a drag from the cigarette. “I assumed that you’d be eager to return to the capital to bolster their defenses.”

Fiora bowed her head, unable to respond. Aichlan felt a twinge of regret and hoped he had not awoken some unpleasant recollections in the young woman.

“In all likelihood, Sorn has already fallen; our chances for survival are all the greater if we throw our lot in with yours.” Alice said nonchalantly to Fiora’s horror.

“Alice!” She cried.

Alice shrugged, “What? It is the truth. I do not know why you are so upset. Besides, I still need to get some practice with my craft, and what better way than this?”—A mischievous smile crossed Alice’s face— “This whole ordeal will be the talk of the century, and to think I was on the frontlines. With the son of General Garrick no less!”

Aichlan attributed the remark to her youth and naïveté and ignored her. From what he recalled, she had always been a bundle of lightning, overly enthusiastic and stubborn as a rusty lock. While he had been away from home for years, he had heard little if anything about the King’s favored niece and heir apparent to the throne. She had managed to avoid the fate of many other heiress’, namely scandal and reputation of being loose.

“If, by the time we reach the Fire Plains, you and Alice still wish to accompany me,” Aichlan struggled to think of a reason to send the women away, but ultimately conceded. “…I would—I mean you can if you so desire.”

Alice clapped her hands and squealed in delight as Fiora let out a sigh of relief.

“But I warn you, Osric employs tactics we’ve never been up against before. Success is, well, unlikely.”

He intended for the last bit to have a sobering effect, but it only steeled Fiora’s resolve and gave Alice more reasons to grin. He nodded his thanks as a fresh mug of ale was handed to him.

“Have we somehow offended ye, Aichlan?” Ashe asked.

He did a spit take and nearly choked on his beer. “No, of course not, why do you ask?”

Eth lit another cigar. “She’s callin’ ye a selfish li’l bugger. Planning on keepin’ all the fightin’ and glory to yerself, are ye?”

The Colby-Nau society honored the warrior ethic almost as a religion. Glory gained in combat added to their life story and “spirit flame,” their inner essence that carried on joining the fires in the sun when the corporeal body eventually succumbed. Squabbles amongst the tribes were common, but these skirmishes rarely resulted in death. The incident in Nole was the first real combat many had tasted in their lifetimes.

“I... I didn’t mean any offense, honestly! I just didn’t think you’d want to become involved in human affairs.”

Eth blew a thick cloud of smoke. “What difference does it make?”

Aichlan was dumbfounded. Truly, the political stances of elves differed greatly from the rest of the world. If they could aid him in his mission, it would certainly be a stroke of luck. While woefully disorganized, the group he traveled with presently was made up of capable warriors. He could only imagine what the Colby-Nau military was like. Assuming of course that they had one.

“Well, will you join me?”

Kielan grinned ear to pointy ear as he took the cigar. “Thought ye’d niver ask, mate.”

* * *

A great deal of celebration followed as a flagon of berry wine was passed around. Pickaxes and shovels were taken from their packs as stories of the previous battle were told and retold, exaggerated with each retelling. Despite the late hour, forges were set up and great open pit mines were dug in the fields. Several of the miners brought swords and pickaxes for Ashe to sharpen and repair, as a rough choir of folk songs filled the air.

The Colby-Nau possessed the uncanny ability to smell minerals and ore buried beneath the ground. As twin moons silently crawled across the night sky, buckets of iron, and some ancient scraps of relics from a long-forgotten civilization were dragged from the gaping holes they had dug in a matter of hours. Aichlan watched with heavy eyelids as Ashe repaired Fiora’s battered breastplate and badly nicked blade. Fiora had passed out wrapped in Alice’s cloak after drinking heavily from the pails of wine that were passed around.

The music of pipes and fiddles filled the night air, as men and women of the camp danced around the fires. The miners excavating ore sang in their native tongue, and Aichlan could only guess at their meanings. He idly tapped his foot and hummed along. The songs of the Colby-Nau were strikingly similar to the songs of rural Aes Sidhe. He recalled several such festivals he attended with his father when he patrolled the Borderlands.

Alice toured the impromptu forges and mining pit, eager for information. She learned songs and phrases, and even tried her hand at forging, her fire and water magic far more effective at close range. Aichlan briefly wondered if having so many fires burning at night in enemy territory was wise, but given his experience with the Colby-Nau, they probably hoped the enemy would attack.

Eth stumbled over as Aichlan yawned, struggling to keep his eyes open. “To–morrow, lad! To–morrow, hic, we reach the Wraith Wood!”

The fragrant smell of the berry wine hung around him thicker than the smoke from his cigars as he gently swayed in a nonexistent breeze.

“The Wraith Wood, eh?” Aichlan said idly.

He stared across the brilliant field that rung with labor and singing. The elves made a libation of too many hops, ostensibly for longevity on their long journeys. They managed to balance the bitterness with a hearty amount of citrus and berries. Eth took a long drink, spilling more on his chest than his mouth. He wiped his mouth and looked down to Aichlan. For a moment, he seemed to have forgotten where he was and why.

“Aye lad, or as yer folk call it—” Eth froze, desperately trying to remember a name that did not exist. “What the devil do ye blighters call the bloody thin’?”

“The Wraith Wood?” Aichlan asked, thoroughly confused.

Eth snapped his fingers, inadvertently sending up a pillar of flame that nearly set his hair on fire. He plopped down next to Aichlan with a groan and checked a pail nearby. He cursed upon finding it to be empty and flung it angrily into the field.

“Aye. Better’n this bleedin’ field an’ all the bloody rain.” Eth elbowed Aichlan in the ribs a bit harder (perhaps) than he intended.

“Who knows, might find us some more bandits, eh?” He found the prospect hilarious for some reason and burst into laughter.

“So,” Eth leaned in closer and lowered his voice.

“Huh?” Aichlan strained to decipher the slurring and thick accent.

“Whaddya think o’ ‘er? Eh?” His breath reeked of berries and alcohol.

“Daen’t preten’ we daen’t notice ya shackkin’ up at nigh’ an’ all, mate.” Eth mistakenly pointed at his dead eye. “I still got one goodun, yeah?” He nodded his head towards Ashe. “So, whaddya think, lad?”

Aichlan sighed and rubbed his eyes. Eth was the last person he wanted to have this discussion with.

“I have to get back to Renata—”

Eth shook his head and swiped at Aichlan’s hand as if it would stop him from making a point. “Nae, nae, nae. That’s all well an’ good, but she’s ‘ere now.” The expected prod to the ribs and smirk never came.

“I can’t.” Aichlan swatted the stink of fermented berry from his face and scooted away from the intoxicated elf. “I have obligations to The Order-“

“Nae laddie. Ye won’t. Yer jus’ afraid o’ the reality o’ the situation.” Eth motioned towards Ashe as he leaned in closer. “She’s a good lass, nae to say that the other one isn’t either. Hell, if it weren’t fer Io…”—Eth stared off into space and rubbed his chin stubble, then abruptly yelled as he stood shakily— “Bah! Sound like an ol’ maid! That’s the price we pay fer pacifi—hic—ism. Eh? Eh!” He swatted angrily at the air in dismissal. “Aww! What the ‘ell d’ye know anywye?”

With that, Eth turned and wandered off. Aichlan turned his attention to Ashe; she had tied her hair back and folded her smock in half at the waist. Sweat glistened on her body and dripped from her brow as she expertly worked the metal over hot flames.

Perhaps he should take Eth’s advice and live more in the here and now. If indeed that was what he was trying to convey. Nevertheless, Aichlan could never forgive himself if he were to give up on Renata now, and she was miraculously still alive. Alice walked over and sat atop a pile of rucksacks, finally tired of exploring the camp. She yawned loudly as she wiped her brow with her sleeve.

“Don’t they sleep?” Alice asked with a yawn as she unrolled a bedroll near Fiora.

“I suppose it’s rather like a holiday for them,” Aichlan said as he chewed on a sprig of grass “like St. Leighseach’s week or the way children stay awake in bed on the eve of Blue Moon or the New Year.”

Alice lay down and pondered his logic. “Yes but, there aren’t any presents in this case.”

Aichlan leaned back and closed his eyes. “For them, perhaps, there are.”

The sound of drunken song and rhythmic striking of metal on metal gently lulled him to sleep. His muscles were still sore from death, and the skirmish had only made things worse. Though a part of him was relieved, for despite his extensive injuries and time in recovery, handling the blade was still second nature to him. As the warmth of the fire and a belly full of food and wine wrapped him in slumbers warm embrace, he was jarred awake by Alice as she curled up beside him and lay her head upon his stomach. Just as he was about to shoo her off, he noticed she was trembling. Despite her bluster, she had just gone through quite the ordeal, and now, she was stranded far from home with nary a familiar face save his own around. With a sigh, he tentatively ran his hands through her hair, hoping things wouldn’t get awkward.

“You’d better have my back Aichlan.”

Despite her efforts to sound tough, she was crying. She was a child, and she had been through so much in such a short time, he felt guilty for his callous desire to just dump them somewhere. Their families had been close even before Garrick’s time, even sharing a common ancestor or two somewhere in their expansive lineages. It should have been a forgone conclusion that he would stay by her side.

“I am your sword and your shield my lady.”

“Good.” Alice sniffed and surreptitiously wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I’d hate to have to tell Céolsige his faith in you was misplaced.”