During the next two days of travel, Bree’s mind circled around the man she killed. She woke up repeatedly each night from nightmares involving the man. She couldn’t get the man’s face out of her head, no matter how much she wanted it gone.

She rode tired, and aggravated, and more than a little angry. Angry at herself, angry at the dead man whose name she would never know, and angry at Rendan. Other Times she felt guilt overwhelming her, and having to fight off tears.

Logically, she knew that if he’d had her way a quick death for her would have been a blessing, and very unlikely. More likely, it would only have come after hours, or days of abuse that she shuddered to think about. Killing him, she knew, was self-defense without any question. She just couldn’t convince her emotions of that fact.

“How do you do it?” she asked abruptly, as they rode into the afternoon. “How do you kill and not have it haunt you?” He gave her a considered look before answering.

“Because I must,” he replied simply. “I don’t kill lightly, but when I do it’s necessary. I had a hard time with the first few people I killed as well, despite knowing that it was what was needed. Even now, I can find myself mourning those at cross-purposes that truly feel they are doing the right thing. At some point, you either have to have confidence that what you do will cause the most good, or you have to completely bury your conscience, or to drive yourself mad.”

“And those three men were necessary,” she asked with anger apparent in her voice.

“Those were men that buried their consciences,” he said in his maddeningly calm tone. “People that take that path become monsters, and deserve no sympathy.”

“And warlocks like you do?” she spat. “Monsters that traffic in souls and demons and death? How are you any different?” He glanced at her. His face had morphed into a mask that betrayed no emotions.

“Insults made in crude ignorance should be below you,” he finally said. He then increased their pace.

While she had developed a lot in riding skill and stamina over their journey, the increase in pace left her struggling too much to pursue the conversation.

Their evening stop was silent and awkward, and Bree quickly decided that trying to break the silence, let alone continue their conversation was a bad idea.

The morning was likewise quiet. They ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal before getting on the road. However, instead of riding through to evening, they took a relatively slow pace and stopped for the day in the afternoon.

“We’re not traveling further?” Bree asked, when she saw Rendan unpacking their gear.

“No,” he said, continuing what he was doing. “We are near the first stop in our destination. Normally, I would just continue on into the evening, but I’m concerned about what we will walk into. I wasn’t expecting what I found in Terabram, and I’m going to be a bit cautious.”

Bree thought about their destination as they prepared their camp, and had a sudden terrible realization. They had left out of the Westerly gate, and as far as she could tell they hadn’t deviated much from the direction. East and Southeast of Terabram were the port cities. Northwest, North, Northeast and Southwest were borders to various adjoining princedoms.

West, however, was a border of an entirely different sort. The princedoms were often antagonistic towards each other, and it wasn’t uncommon for minor border wars to flare up. The elven border, though, was one of the few things that the princedoms would cooperate to defend.

“We are going to the elves?” she said without even trying to keep the horror from her voice. “Why would you take us there? Even you will not be safe! They hate human mages!”

“That wasn’t the case the last time I was there,” he said while starting to prepare their meal. “In my experience the elves are honorable and strong allies. While time and politics may have changed, I do not think the elves would have changed that much.”

“Is that my fate, then,” she asked.

Rendan sighed, then turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders while looking her straight in the eye.

“I know what you think of me, but I give you my word that I will take you with me when I leave the elvish lands.”

“Why would you ally with them?” she asked, resignedly. “I guess the fact that they are monsters that have used nature magic to kill swaths of soldiers in the wars wouldn’t mean anything to you. Erek told me that if the elven tribes stopped infighting enough to join forces for a serious attack they could destroy the princedoms. Surely even you wouldn’t want humans killed off like that.” The mage just stared incredulously at her for a long moment.

“Erek doesn’t know what he speaks of,” he finally said, returning to his tasks while shaking his head. “Elven society is not like human society. Elves are, well, ruthlessly meritocratic. Those that rise in leivea are given tremendous authority among their people.” He thought for a moment more.

“You don’t have a frame of reference to be able to understand elven society, yet. Suffice it to say, that they are incredibly unified. Elves attacking elves with true intent is almost unheard of.”

Bree shook her head in exasperation, finally deciding that arguing with the mage was an exercise in futility. She didn’t know whether to hope that the elves would kill him, or worry that he had been telling the truth about the threat to Terabram that only he could prevent.

They moved on at a much more casual pace. They were particularly slowed when the roads that they had been following petered out. While the remnants of further roads were present, they were in poor repair and in many sections overgrown.

In the late morning, they crossed over into the forest. The road was in much rougher shape, almost as if nature had intentionally been attacking it. Stones had been ground down, popped out, or shattered. Plants and weeds had grown out of cracks, and in many cases trees had sprouted out of the larger gaps and pushed away the road. Now, the road could barely be described as a path.

The uneven stones made the road a hazard for the horses, and the many low hanging branches made riding a problem for the humans anyway. They dismounted soon after they entered the forest. They began walking next to the path, just to make things a bit easier for the horses.

“Something is wrong,” Rendan said not far into the forest. “If the elves do attack, just stay back. They will focus on me as the larger threat, so should leave you alone unless you draw their attention.”

The warning didn’t exactly help her mood, and it did cause a bit of anxiety for her, but something about the forest just soothed her. She caught herself humming a few times as she enjoyed the peaceful surroundings. While she did try to watch herself, she knew the mage was on watch if something did come.

When he made a motion for her to stop, it caught her by surprise. She froze, and looked around. They were in the center of a small clearing. There wasn’t anything in the clearing other than them, and she couldn’t make out anything amongst the trees.

“Stay back,” he muttered to her, stepping forward. Then he spoke in a loud voice that carried surprisingly well, “You can come out. You’ve been with us for the last hour, and now is as good a time as any to meet.”

“You are not welcome here,” came a voice from the trees in front of them. A humanoid followed into the clearing.

The man, or elf, Bree realized, was tall and thin, and moved with a natural gracefulness that reminded her of a dancing instructor her father had once hired. He had a bow and quiver with a double handful of arrows poking over his shoulder. A long and thin blade was in a scabbard on his waist. His clothing, mostly brown and green, blended into the forest so well that she didn’t think she would have seen him if he hadn’t stepped into the clearing. His hood covered the pointed ears she knew must be there from the stories.

“We do not allow humans in our territory,” he sneered. “Turn back now or we will leave your corpses at the edge of the forest.”

“Babes with a few springs under their belt do not get to turn away guests,” Rendan said in an utterly unimpressed tone. “Your friend, the pelienel over there hiding in the shadows doesn’t have that authority either.” Rendan gestured to a spot in the trees. Even pointed out Bree couldn’t see anyone there, until another, identically equipped, elf stepped out of the treeline there.

“We do not need to substitute her judgement, when we are fulfilling orders already given,” the new elf said.

“Her?” Rendan asked, then shook his head. “I have little patience for this, and do not wish to dally. If you wish to interfere, then I claim the rite of veniar.” The leader elf’s head tilted slightly, and his eyes blinked several times in succession.

“Humans do not have leniar. There is no basis for you to challenge.”

“The Telienel knows me, and would disagree. I am a friend of the Eledari and have the right of passage throughout these lands. My blade has danced alongside the greatest of your race’s warriors during the battles against the Demon Lord Kil’Arkimon. My liniar is more than sufficient for veniar with any Eledari on this side of Loth’elorand.” The two elves hissed, and looked at each other. This time she saw both elves blink repeatedly in the odd way. The leader turned back to the mage.

“What you claim is not possible, human,” he said, his head cocked at a slightly off-center angle.

Rendan reached into his shirt and pulled out an amulet that had been hidden. When he held it up for them to see, they gawked.

“That is impossible!” the leader exclaimed. “There is no living Champion not of Eledari blood, and hasn’t been for generations.” Rendan did something and the medallion exploded with a complex show of light, which Bree watched as she scratched the itch on the back of her head. “Impossible,” the elf leader said, half-heartedly in an obviously shaken voice.

“Take me to Loth’elarond,” the mage ordered. The two elves looked at each other again for a long moment of silent communication, and then the held his left hand in front of him with the palm facing up. The gesture apparently appeased Rendan, because he put the amulet back under his shirt. The elf made a gesture over his head and a dozen more elves appeared out of the treeline.

“I’m Tenaril, and I have the honor of being the pelienel of the sentries that protect this border,” the leader said. “I do not understand what to make of you, but you are correct that the matter needs to be brought to the Lothlienel. However, the Loth’elarond no longer exists. It is now known as Loth’ardreila.”

Rendan froze for a moment, and even Bree could sense his shock. He quickly recovered and bowed his head.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Suddenly, the elves all looked at him in an act of synchronicity that highlighted how slightly inhuman their movements were. All the tension that had been easing away from the scene was suddenly back, and Bree felt the hairs on the back of her head stand as she sensed the immense danger focused in the clearing. She saw elven hands ready themselves near elven weapons, and she felt her hand reach back to her own dagger, as inadequate as it was.

Rendan, however, shook his head sadly and acted oblivious to the sudden threat. She didn’t know whether he was truly oblivious to the hostility, or if he was so confident that he didn’t think the elves were a particular danger.

“You would impugn the Lothlienel?” Tenaril said in a tight voice.

“Not at all,” Rendan answered, with a tone to his voice that Bree couldn’t decipher. “Everyone that knew Elarond knew his skill as a warrior, but also knew his passions could run away from him. It was what made him such an incredible Eledari and warrior, but he depended on Ardreila to be his wisdom. I can imagine no Eledari better suited to become his successor than her, and all that depend on her should feel blessed. I simply mourn a great Eledari, and a greater friend.”

Tenaril stared at him for a long moment, and then let his hand fall away from the sword at his side. “I never knew Elarond,” he said. “He passed long before my time, but I’ve heard great things about him and your words do him honor. Your words do honor to the Lothlienel as well, which all Eledari that are blessed to fall in her service would echo.” He bowed to the mage.

“What of her,” the elf continued, gesturing towards Bree.

“She is a dralaim,” he said.

Tenaril’s hands went back to his weapon almost instantly. Somehow, Rendan was even quicker. The end of the staff in the mage’s hand was resting on the elf’s wrist, blocking the elf from drawing his weapon.

“Do not draw a weapon unless you all wish to die,” he said.

“You are Ardarchon,” the elf snarled. “Betrayers.”