Cald had waited for Eyrmin to speak of the message from the king, but the elven prince had not mentioned it. He seemed lost in thought, and the young man had left him in peace, but finally Cald could stand it no longer.
“Have you been ordered to kill me or send me away?” he asked.
Eyrmin’s eyes flickered in surprise. He seemed hesitant to speak, and Cald feared the worst. Finally the elf shook his head.
“King Tieslin has never understood why I allow you to stay, but he has not ordered your banishment,” Eyrmin said. “Understand, he knows humans only by their destruction of the forest.”
“And likes goblins plenty not much, too,” Bersmog added. A sharp look from the prince sent both their humanoid companions wandering away to the west. Eyrmin stared out over the plain for a few minutes as if trying to decide whether or not to share his concerns.
“No, the message dealt with another subject.” Obviously the prince did not want to discuss it, and Cald respected his wishes.
At least I am not being deprived of my home, he thought. He had been raised to love the forest, and the thought of leaving it filled him with sadness and a little fear—fear of loneliness away from his friends. His repeated assertions that he should be allowed to stand patrol duty and help with the fighting had always met with a refusal. He had proved himself a warrior loyal to Sielwode; he felt he had earned his place. Prince Eyrmin was hard pressed to defend the borders of the western arm of Sielwode from the armies of the north, and Cald felt it was his duty to do his part. Now that he had his armor and would be allowed in battle, he would be able to prove his loyalty to the people and the prince who had adopted him.
“You have proven yourself in battle,” the prince said, as if he had heard the boy’s thoughts. “Tieslin would not turn away skilled and loyal warriors. He might even use the halflings, if they return,” he said in a rare show of lighthearted spirit.
The little people had been gone for nearly three years. They had stayed to build “Eyrmin’s Tower,” as they had called the lookout stations high in the Grove Father.
In the six and a half years since the battle in the Muirien Grove and the arrival of the first fifty halflings, the portal had opened four times, and another one hundred fifty-four halflings had escaped the Shadow World. The second group had consisted of only seven escapees, arriving a year after the first group. They had remained with the first fifty.
Half a year later a larger group, eighty-three all told, came dashing through, and the portal closed after them, again before the elves could reach the grove to protect the spirits there. The elves had been astonished and concerned with the number of refugees, but the halflings had no desire to remain in the forest. When the newcomers left, all but twenty of the original fifty went with them. True to their part of the bargain, the best of the woodworkers had stayed to finish the lookout.
The portal opened twice more after the halflings had finished their work on the Grove Father, and more than sixty escapees had followed the rest, each group staying two nights in the burrows that had been excavated in the high banks overlooking the Moon Stream. Then they had left, seeking a place where they could dig their burrows, plant their crops, and live in peace.
The halfling triplets had remained. Bigtoe, Little-toe, and Fleetfoot still lived in the caves by the Moon Stream. They were the sons of the hereditary leader of their village, and one of them, as the oldest son, would take the position of leader when he came of age. A mix-up at birth meant no one knew which baby had been born first, so they did not know who was the rightful leader.
Once they reached the age of thirty-five, the problem would have to be settled, but that birthday was years away and did not seem to bother them. They had shown a surprising sense of responsibility toward their people in their decision to remain in the forest. They kept a close eye on the Muirien Grove, ready to assist and guide any halflings who escaped through the portal.
The elves liked the halflings and found them amusing. Three was too few to upset the peace of the wood. They also admitted their obligation to the halflings. Every member of the village had climbed the thousands of steps that spiraled up the Grove Father to see the watch stations. Some made regular journeys up the tree to stand watch over the western arm of the forest.
As the elves had envisioned, the tall watch stations in the Grove Father allowed them a view from which they could alert their patrols, but it was still necessary to station the protectors of the woods near enough to the eaves to warn off intruders and defend the boundaries.
Cald, walking at Eyrmin’s side, fretted, wanting to take an active part in guarding the wood. He was so caught up in his discontent, he didn’t realize he had heard a scream until it sounded a second time. Eyrmin was already several paces ahead of him, stringing his bow as he ran.
They raced west, staying just within the shadows of the trees, until he saw the single wagon, stopped a hundred yards from the edge of the forest. A human woman was running toward the wood, her weapon a planting hoe. From beneath the trees, a boy of about eight and two girls, one nearly grown and the other about ten, were backing away from Stognad.
Bersmog approached from the west. Eyrmin and Cald had appeared from the east. The woman had reached the children and stood in front of them, her eyes starting with fear as she brandished her hoe. The older girl, who seemed to be about the same age as Cald, held a short, broken limb. Dead leaves clung to the side; it had been lying on the ground. At her feet lay a pile of old, dead wood. The boy was empty-handed, but the smaller girl still held an armload of short branches.
Bersmog grunted in disgust. “No men, no sport,” he grunted in his own tongue. The goblins also missed being allowed to fight.
“They have no axes,” Eyrmin said, lowering his bow, a sign he did not mean to exact the regular penalty for entering the Sielwode. He used elven speech; to Cald it meant he did not want the humans to know he understood their language. With a significant glance at Cald, he sent a message the young human interpreted.
“You are not welcome in this forest,” Cald said. “Accept your lives as a gift and go.”
The woman stared at him for a moment, glanced at the two goblins, who understood the elven tongue and had lowered their weapons. She tugged at the children, pulling them away. The girl remained where she was.
“We weren’t hurting your precious trees,” she snapped. “We only wanted a little wood to start a fire, and we only picked up fallen branches that would have rotted into the ground.” She pointed to a small pile at her feet.
“Jelia!” The older woman’s voice trembled with fear. She took a step toward the younger one, pulling at her arm, but the girl shrugged her away and glared at Cald.
“You’re a selfish and greedy lot that denies hungry people the right to cook their food.”
“Aebrynis provides for its people without disturbing the trees,” Cald replied, stung by her remark.
“Then tell us how we make fires without wood, and we won’t come near your miserable forest,” she snapped.
Cald stared at her, new feelings springing up in him, as if he were a flower just discovering sunlight. This was a human female, possibly his own age. In the growing light he could tell her skin was pale, and her long hair, blown by the light breeze, was reddish brown like new bark on a conifer tree. Her snapping eyes were the dark blue of a clear, early evening.
Beside him, Eyrmin’s mouth twitched. The elf stared up at the sky, making it obvious he was leaving this battle to the humans. Cald was loath to turn away, and she had offered a challenge, one that might aid the elves of Sielwode, he decided. Still, he would be giving her the knowledge of an elven craft, and he could not do so without Eyrmin’s permission.