Elfsorrow

'What is it you want me to see?' Ilkar struggled to keep up with the sudden pace, slipping on the muddy ground, unused to the texture underfoot, his reactions dulled by his absence. Kild'aar, of course, looked as if she were walking on flat dry rock.

She led him to a house on the southern periphery of the village. On the porch sat an elf dressed in jet black with a face painted in black and white halves. At his feet a panther lay, licking its paws.

'What the hell is going on?' demanded Ilkar. 'What are they doing here?'

'Waiting for answers,' replied Kild'aar.

'Fine,' said Ilkar. 'So what's inside?'

'You'll see.'

'Gods, but you're frustrating, Kild'aar.'

'Any particular God? Or just that amorphous deity Balaians always invoke?'

'Now I'm remembering why I didn't come back sooner.'

Kild'aar pushed open the door. 'I'd hate to disappoint your memories, Ilkar. Room to the left.'

She waited while he went in. The room was lit by heavily scented candles set on the floor and on low tables. Otherwise it was bare but for a high-legged bed in its centre on which lay a shrouded figure. Ilkar turned, frowning, but was ushered on. He walked to the head of the bed, the sweet scents filling his head, and pulled back the shroud.

On the bed lay an elf of about his age, though it was hard to tell in truth. His face was wrinkled as if the moisture had been leached from it, a trail of blood ran from his nose and another from the corner of his mouth. There was no relaxation in death, as if the pain that had gripped him as he lost his fight for life had endured beyond. Ilkar knew him.

'There was nothing we could do,' said Kild'aar as Ilkar replaced the shroud. 'He was all but dead when he was brought in. Nothing we did, magical or herbal, did anything at all bar relieving his pain a little. Everyone here knows the agony in which he died and they know our helplessness. All that lie sick know their fate unless we can find a way to save them. That's why we're so scared. Who's next?'

'Then let Erienne help,' urged Ilkar. 'She is the best healer mage I've ever met. She's saved my life before now. Let her examine him, find out what she can. Please, Kild'aar, trust me on this.'

Kild'aar shrugged. 'We'll see. Come.' She led Ilkar to the room next door. It was similarly bare though the shutters had been opened to let in natural light. On a table under the window sat a bowl of water draped with cloths. A single bed was pushed against a wall and on it an elf lay on his stomach, head to one side. A sheet covered him to his waist and his back was largely swathed in bandages, heaviest on his left shoulder.

'Oh dear Gods,' said Ilkar, rushing to the bedside and kneeling down to stroke the hair away from his face. It felt hot. 'Not him too.'

'No,' said Kild'aar. 'His fever was caused by an infected wound and it's broken now. He'll live. For now at least.'

Relief flooded Ilkar and he exhaled heavily, his breath playing over the prone elf's face.

'Rebraal,' he whispered. 'Can you hear me?'

The elf's eyes flickered open, narrowed against the light and steadied. He frowned.

'Are you real?' he asked, voice no more than a croak.

'Yes, I am. What happened to you?'

'You're not real. I'm still fevered. You're a shade.' He seemed to be talking to himself, his words barely distinct.

'No. The fever's broken. Kild'aar says you're recovering. It really is me, kneeling in front of you.' Ilkar smiled.

Rebraal's face darkened. 'Shade or real, let me tell you this. You're too late. A century too late. Where were you when the strangers came and took Aryndeneth? Where were you when I was shot? We needed you. You promised to return. It was your destiny as it is mine. Get out of here. I don't know you.'

'Rebraal, I understand your anger. But my destiny changed. There was other work I had to do. But it doesn't stop me being your brother.'

'You betrayed me. You betrayed the Al-Arynaar. You are not my brother.' He turned his head away. 'Go back to your other destiny.'

Ilkar put a hand on Rebraal's back.

'Please, Rebraal. I can help you. I've brought people with me. We'll take the temple back.'

'I want nothing that you can give. We don't need your help. Go.' Ilkar felt Kild'aar's touch on his shoulder. He looked up, his brief joy at seeing his brother extinguished. There was a lump in his throat and he shook his head to clear his mind, a cascade of emotions surging through him. His parents were dead, as he had expected, and he felt little grief at their passing. But Rebraal. Rebraal was only a little older than him and Ilkar's love for his hero had never dimmed though his brother had often been far from his thoughts. And now he had been dismissed. Disconnected. He stood and strode from the house.

'What did you expect?' asked Kild'aar after him. 'He thought you'd abandoned him. You were supposed to join the Al-Arynaar. It's why you went to train in Julatsa.'

Ilkar rounded on her. 'No, it isn't!' he shouted, then checked his voice. 'It's what you all assumed. You, him, my parents. You never let me speak my mind, you never considered what I actually wanted. I never, ever wanted to follow Rebraal and my father into the Al-Arynaar. I admired them for their sacrifice but I didn't want to do the same.'

Kild'aar frowned. 'So why did you go to train?'

Ilkar almost laughed. 'Because I wanted to be a mage. Because I felt the calling so strongly I could never deny it. You have no idea the release I felt when I left here and the elation I felt every day I was training. I knew what you would all feel when I didn't return but I couldn't come back to explain because you'd never have let me leave.'

'Didn't you believe in what the Al-Arynaar represented?'

'Of course I did,' said Ilkar. He pushed a hand through his hair, searching for the words that would help her understand. 'But I was never driven enough to spend my life defending something I thought would never be attacked. I know how hollow that sounds now but I wanted more.'

Kild'aar shook her head. 'How can there be anything more than the honour of defending your faith?'

'It wasn't what I wanted. Why can't you understand that? Why can't Rebraal?'

Ilkar felt like telling her his life story, or at least the last decade of it. But she wouldn't want to hear about how his and The Raven's search for Dawnthief halted the Wytch Lords, or how their sealing of the Noonshade rip stopped Balaia being overwhelmed by dragons. Both actions had done more to protect the elven faith than guarding Aryndeneth. The trouble was, they were too isolated here. To Kild'aar, and to so many rainforest villagers, events on Balaia were of no importance.

All they knew or cared about the Northern Continent was Julatsa and the training it could give elves who felt the mage calling. And even then, most village elders would shrug at the demise of the college, blaming the elves who had stayed there for their stupidity in doing so. It was a paradox, but one the elven elders would face comfortably.

'Your head was turned from true sight on Balaia,' she said. 'And Rebraal will blame you in part for the loss of the temple.'

'Then persuade him to let me help put it right,' said Ilkar. He pointed at his father's house. 'You don't know it, but in that house you've got the most talented warriors and mages on Balaia. They are The Raven and they can make a difference.'

'We have heard the name,' said Kild'aar, unimpressed. 'Our mages who did return as they promised brought word of you. We don't need the help of mercenaries. We need believers. Rebraal is right, you should go.'

Ilkar felt his cheeks colouring, very aware that his paler skin tone from decades on Balaia now set him apart from his own roots. It was useless talking to Kild'aar. And while to a certain extent he could understand their sense of betrayal, he couldn't fathom their obduracy in the face of a genuine offer of help.

'Let me tell you exactly how it's going to be,' said Ilkar, his frustration getting the better of him at last. 'We're here to take mages back to Julatsa, because if we don't there will be no college for you to send your precious defenders to train at. Then where will your Al-Arynaar be, eh? And we will find mages with or without your help. Secondly, we are going to help the sick in this village and we are going to help return the temple to the hands of the Al-Arynaar. We are The Raven and this is what we do. Now you can try and stop us, but consider who is betraying the elven race and faith then.