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The sun had set nearly an hour ago, and a thick crescent moon rose high in the sky, peering over the tall trees of the surrounding forests. Parts of the Ronan’el camp had gone quiet, and others had become sites of whispering, people discussing the future and the ways it seemed impossible to predict. The war had begun again, and now everything was different. Asp knew that the crossing of the treaty line had made camp lively earlier today, but she was sure it was more subdued now.
Bruzohr ambled into the low light of the campfire that the group was sitting around. Steel-Eyes sat staring into the fire; Sash sat cross-legged, a bowl of water in their hands that they shifted back and forth as if to create small waves; Larkin wandered around the fire in circles, quietly muttering to herself; and Asp laid back, looking at the stars. They’re the same stars I saw in Thistlewade, and Strey, and out the window of my cell back in Despair. But everything is different now. I wonder if the stars know that, or if they care. Hearing Bruzohr, she lifted herself into a sitting position.
“It’s time to go,” the Ronan’el said quietly. “You need to go get Kastark Fayedd before it grows too late.”
Steel-Eyes got up and grabbed his pack. Larkin stopped pacing and grabbed her bag as well. Sash looked wistfully into the bowl for a moment, then poured it slowly over their head, a patch of wetness appearing at their chest. Asp struggled to her feet, picked up her satchel, and came to stand before Bruzohr.
“Where is he?” she asked.
“The Womb of the World,” said Bruzohr reverently.
“The where?” Asp asked.
Bruzohr shook his head, clearly frustrated at her ignorance. “You will see. It is one of the holiest places in the world. Be respectful, for the guards there are sworn to protect it.”
Asp had more questions, but she chose to nod instead of asking them.
“Steel-Eyes is ready,” said the dwarf.
“Me too!” added Larkin.
Sash and Asp nodded their agreement.
“Good,” said Bruzohr. “This way.” He turned and hurried through the camp to its edge, where a few Ronan’el waited, the night too dark to make out the color of their scales.
“Miss,” said one near Asp.
“Yes?” she asked, trying to make out his features in the darkness.
“Hold on,” he said. He gently lifted her and situated her on his back so that she was mounted near his shoulders.
“Um,” she said.
“You must move quickly, and our troops can see well in the dark,” explained Bruzohr. “It’s a necessity.”
“Do I get one?” asked Larkin excitedly.
Bruzohr chuckled. “You do.”
“Yay!” cried the hornkin, leaping onto the back of the Ronan’el nearest her. The Ronan’el scarcely moved, as though Larkin’s body weighed as little as the pale moonlight.
“Steel-Eyes can walk.” The dwarf folded his arms in front of his chest.
“For the sake of your mission, you’ll consent to being carried,” said Bruzohr. His tone was gentle, but his words were clear–this was not a request.
Steel-Eyes, Guy, and Sash clambered aboard their respective Ronan’el, their clothes rustling against the light armor of the Ronan’el.
“Remember,” said Bruzohr, “you get Fayedd, you explain the details of the mission, you board the boat to Lo’Torrin, and you begin convincing the elves to sign the treaty. Force will not be an option. You must convince them that it is for the best.”
“What if we can’t?” asked Larkin.
Bruzohr sighed. “You must.”
“The signatures of some elves should be persuasive to the less agreeable of their associates,” said Asp, trying to believe it herself. “Arokosiel will be of great help in that regard.”
“We must hope so,” replied Bruzohr. “Our existence depends on it.”
“Why,” said Steel-Eyes.
Bruzohr was silent for a moment. “We possess some of the greatest warriors alive. But two things give the elves an advantage. There are many, many more of them. And while we seek to regain peace, they wish to exterminate us. The stakes could not be higher.”
The group matched his silence. The Ronan’el Asp clung to readjusted beneath her, and she felt the first true chill of the night. She shivered slightly.
“Do not worry, small one,” said the Ronan’el under her. “Our journey will be a safe one.”
“Lady Jasmine,” corrected Bruzohr. “We owe our group here respect.”
“Sorry, Bruzohr,” said the Ronan’el. “And sorry, Lady Jasmine.”
“It’s okay,” she said warmly despite the chill. “I am a small one.”
Larkin tittered from somewhere in the darkness to Asp’s right.
“Are you ready?” asked Bruzohr, his voice tense.
“Yes,” said Sash, their voice placid.
“Yep,” said Larkin, her tone uncertain.
“Steel-Eyes is ready.”
Asp gripped tightly around the neck of her Ronan’el. “Let’s do this.”
“Good luck,” said Bruzohr.
Instantly, the Ronan’el began to run. Asp tried her best to not feel disoriented as she felt herself racing through the dark, the Ronan’el beneath her dashing hard and occasionally twisting this way and that without warning. She tried to orient herself by looking up at the stars and moon, but the jostling of their journey made her feel sick. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to focus her thoughts to distract herself.
Almost five years ago, my mom turned me in to the guards. I had to abandon my house, my savings, everything. I lost everyone I knew. I thought that was as bad as it was going to get because losing everything is pretty bad. I had to skip town and run off with a stranger I didn’t know if I could trust, and in fact couldn’t. I trusted the wrong person, and it cost me all I had worked so hard to build. I thought it was the worst day of my life.
A year and a half ago, I got betrayed by everyone I cared about. I lost my family, my love, my hope of a future. It was losing everyone and everything again. I thought that was as bad as it was going to get because what hurts more than losing everything? Losing even more, and a second time. I barely made it out, chased by my old gang, the guards, my own fucking mother, and I only got out because of a stroke of luck. My new life, my shot at being a real professional–all gone in the space of a few days. Then I thought that was the worst day of my life.
About a month ago, I was in prison. I thought I was in control, but it became painfully clear that I was not. It looked like I was going to rot in that cell for the rest of my miserable life. The longest-lasting friend I had ended up being the maniac who murdered my best childhood friend. I had to try a desperate plan to get out, one that almost didn’t work because that bastard wanted to sell me out for next to nothing. I thought that was as bad as it was going to get because getting a life sentence for trying to do the right thing for once and being locked up with your biggest source of trauma with no one around to be honest with is pretty damn low. I thought that was the worst day of my life, and of course I did–I was at the lowest point I’d ever been.
Yesterday, we were in a little inn after encountering a group of undead monsters in the woods. I thought that was as bad as it was going to get because, hey, a horde of monsters feasting on a corpse in the forest–how could it get worse than that? I barely slept in that bed in the inn, tormented by reminders of what we’d seen. And I seemed to be the only one really shaken up by it. I had been thrown by fate in with a bunch of massive weirdos for a job I didn’t understand and had no idea would result in the beginning of the end for a whole society. I thought that was the worst day of my life, having to fight for my survival with strangers in the middle of nowhere for a purpose I didn’t understand and frankly still don’t.
Right now, I’m clutching to a strange soldier I don’t even know the name of, being carried off to some place I know nothing about. I’m sworn to try to convince the meanest people in the world to stop being psychotic killers because the alternative was getting executed for an honest mistake. Right now, I think that this is as bad as it’s going to get because why the fuck wouldn’t I? I have no control over my life. I’m responsible for an impossible task with massive repercussions. I’m as alone as I’ve ever been, no friends in the world. Shit, I saw Gregorio a few days ago, and he ran from me like I’m a plague victim with a battleaxe and a grudge. I’d say that this is the worst day of my life, but I’ve been wrong about that so many times that it doesn’t seem like there’s a point in saying it anymore.
I’m fucked.
She opened her eyes for a moment. The world continued to shake and sway, and the motion sickness set in again with renewed fury. She closed her eyes tightly.
Wait. There’s another way to see this.
When I got chased out of Thistlewade, I thought it was all over. But I made a new life, an arguably better one, and I ended up saving the lives of everyone I cared about.
When I got run out of Strey, I made it because I did something genuinely good for a stranger, who returned the favor. I got not a second chance but a third chance because I fucking earned it.
When I was in prison, I turned an impossible situation into freedom, and I got consequences for that fucker Edmund. I thought things through and ended up on my way to a fourth chance, one that I didn’t waste.
When I was fighting those monsters, I survived. I worked together with my party, and we survived the fight without any of us getting a scratch. I didn’t melt into a puddle despite the violence, and we kept going, even though the future was unclear.
And right now, we have a plan that may be desperate, but it’s also the best we can do. Steel-Eyes and Sash and Larkin might not be the best colleagues in the world, but this is an opportunity to do something decent with what I know how to do. I have the chance to save the Ronan’el, and I can’t waste it because it matters too fucking much.
I’m not giving up. I’m not gonna panic. I’m gonna do this.
The jostling stopped. Asp opened her eyes. In the dim light of the moon, she could faintly see that she and the others were at the edge of a lake, forests on either side of it. Opposite them was a precipice over which tumbled a waterfall that fell into the lake. At the left side of the waterfall, a path was carved into the stone of the cliffside, and it led to what appeared to be the space behind the waterfall.
The soldier she had ridden on knelt. She thought at first he was kneeling to let her down, but it quickly became clear that he had done so in order to utter a prayer. The other Ronan’el were doing the same as the rest of the group dismounted. A moment later, the Ronan’el rose.
“The Womb of the World,” breathed the Ronan’el who had carried Asp. “You will make the rest of the journey from here.”
Asp nodded and looked back out at the waterfall, its mighty stream thundering as it struck the surface of the lake.
Let’s do this.
—
Larkin led the way along the rocky path around the lake, Steel-Eyes and Guy behind her, Asp trying to keep up with them, and Sash bringing up the rear. The path appeared to have been cut long ago and smoothed even more by time, and even in the dark, it was relatively easy to follow. Still, it required focus to navigate given the distance down to the lake’s surface and the crashing sound of water striking water. They made their way in silence for these reasons as well as the fact that this was a holy site.
The path turned behind the waterfall. Larkin stepped into a torchlit space, a large carved-out area with Ronan’el women in ornate armor lining the walls. Her companions filed in behind her. When Sash emerged, five of the Ronan’el stepped forward quickly, surrounding the group.
“What is the meaning of this, elf?” demanded one of them, a green Ronan’el with a fierce look in her eyes.
“I mean no harm,” said Sash gently, holding up their hands.
“You violate the sanctity of this place,” said the green Ronan’el. “Why would you come here?”
“We were sent by the tribunal, by Bruzohr.” Asp spoke quickly, knowing that defusing a situation requires not only tact but speed. “They were asked, like us, to come for Kastark Fayedd.”
The woman looked back, confused. “They sent you?”
“As a matter of fact, they did,” replied Asp.
The woman seemed even more confused now. “They sent a slightkin, a dwarf, a hornkin, and an elf?”
Asp nodded, smiling sweetly. “Here, I think this will clear things up.” She produced the treaty signed by the tribunal and handed it to the Ronan’el. “See?” she asked, pointing to each of the signatures. “Bruzohr, Shez, Urdukk, Rhuk, Abzal, and Sithrin.”
The woman studied it closely, her fellow guards stepping forward and trying to see it too. “Urdukk agreed to this?” she muttered to herself, just barely above a whisper. She leaned in close. “These are by their hands.” She shrugged. “You seek Kastark?”
“We do seek him, yeah,” said Larkin cheerily.
The Ronan’el woman adopted a calm demeanor. “He is beside the Cradle.” She gestured further back into the cave, which was rough and rocky unlike the path that had led here.
Deeper in the cave, a strange-looking Ronan’el knelt before a wide slab of stone, smooth on the top and rectangular in shape. The group stepped forward, and the guards returned to their posts along the walls of the cave. The party approached the man, and he slowly stood just before they reached him.
He was stranger up close than from a distance. Like the Ronan’el, he had scales covering most of his body, and in the torchlight, it seemed he had patches of every color across him. But the scales did not cover him completely–he had pale skin beneath them. And like an elf, he had tall, pointed ears and an angular face, a frame that was too narrow to be purely Ronan’el and too bulky to be an elf. Pointed tusks poked out of the corners of his mouth, giving him a half-severe expression that contrasted with the tired calmness of his eyes and mouth. He wore a plain talisman around his neck. A faint glimmering on his skin told that something else factored into his appearance, and the slant of his eyes seemed neither Ronan’el nor elven.
“Kastark Fayedd,” said Steel-Eyes, the tone of a question lurking in his delivery that Asp had now learned to recognize.
“Please,” he said, his voice deep and yet lilting, “Kast.”
“Hi Kast!” chirped Larkin. “How are you?”
He smirked, or perhaps smiled–the tusks made it hard to tell. “I’m fine. And you?”
“I’m pretty good,” said Larkin, “except for the part where we accidentally ruined the treaty and started the war again and lost our friends. But aside from that, pretty good.”
Kast looked worried a moment, then returned to tired calmness. “Who are all of you? And why have you come here? Because of the war?” He eyed Sash in a way that the other Ronan’el had not–not with suspicion or rage, but with something approaching understanding.
“Because of the war, yes,” said Asp. “I’m Lady Penelope Jasmine, and I regret to inform you that the treaty has been broken–as my associate here, Larkin, was saying, by us in a terrible accident–and that the elves and Ronan’el have fought today, with more fighting sure to come. The tribunal sent us to get you, to ask you to join us in seeking a new, more complete treaty.”
Kast nodded as if this were unremarkable news. “And you two?”
“Steel-Eyes,” said the dwarf, jabbing at his chest. “Guy,” he added, pointing to his mechanical assistant.
“I’m Sash,” said the elf very self-consciously, the routine of being scrutinized having made them cautious and weary. “I’m the protector of a holy reef outside Lo’Torrin.”
Kast nodded again. “And you are meant to negotiate for peace?”
“We are,” said Asp, also weary of the doubt they had faced. “I know it sounds unlikely, but we have volunteered to the tribunal to travel the elven lands and obtain the consent to a permanent ceasefire. The Ronan’el have agreed already,” she explained, holding out the treaty to him, “and we are told you will join us as an emissary. Have you been told of this?”
Kast chuckled ruefully. “Long ago, in a way.”
“You are elf and Ronan’el,” intoned Steel-Eyes, his voice once again indicating a question.
“I am,” replied Kast. “But also Fae. I was born of the In-Between.”
“Ooooooh, Fae too?” Larkin seemed delighted by this for some reason. “That’s neat.”
Kast inclined his head in surprise. “That’s not the reaction I’m used to.”
“To be honest,” said Asp, “your calmness and acceptance about all this is not the reaction we’re used to, either.”
Kast’s mouth turned in what was certainly a smile, even if a reserved one. “Then we are surprised together.” He walked to the edge of the cave and lifted a modest pack onto his shoulder. “I am ready.”
“Really?” asked Asp. “You don’t need more information or anything?”
“We must journey to reach the elves,” said Kast. “You will tell me more on the way, I hope. Where first?”
“Back to Lo’Torrin,” said Sash, apparently feeling more ease in Kast’s presence. “We’re told Lord Arokosiel will be a good first step.”
“He is somewhat reasonable, from what I hear,” replied Kast.
Asp smiled mischievously. “He owes us a favor anyway.”
Kast raised an eyebrow. “He does?”
“We’ll tell you on the way,” she said. “We have a boat to catch.”
“You want a minute to say bye to your home?” asked Larkin.
Kast shook his head. “I made peace with this a long time ago. I am ready,” he said again.
At this point, something that didn’t surprise me would be the bigger surprise, thought Asp. “Let’s go, then,” she said.
The five of them trooped out of the cave and back toward the guards, and Kast paused. One by one, he hugged each of the armored Ronan’el women, and each one shared an emotional whispered conversation with him. Asp and her associates looked back and forth at one another, confused by this, but remained silent. A minute later, his goodbyes given, Kast led the way out of the cave. He stalked down the rocky path, the group in tow, and soon, they gathered at the edge of the lake.
“The boat would be this way,” said Kast, pointing off down the river that wound out of the lake. “We should hurry if what you say is true, which I fear it is. Lady Jasmine,” he said, kneeling and offering his back as the Ronan’el had on the way there.
“Really?” she said. “I promise I can walk.”
“I mean no offense,” he replied. “Your tiny legs can only go so fast.”
She shrugged and clambered up onto his back. He rose and began to swiftly march along the riverside. The rest of the group followed behind, matching his pace with no shortage of effort. As they hurried along through the dark, Asp smiled to herself.
Two weirdos in the woods, a massive war, being locked in a military prison, facing interrogation by the most important Ronan’el in the world, and securing the help of an elf-Ronan’el-Fae. It’s been a long fucking day.
—
They arrived at the edge of the sea as the moon reached its peak in the sky. Asp sighted what looked like a fishing boat a bit down the coast, and before she could point it out to him, Kast carried her quickly toward it. The rest followed as closely as they could. They reached the vessel, and the sound of pained moaning from inside the boat alarmed Asp. Kast leapt into the boat and spoke in a voice both urgent and calm.
“Who’s hurt?”
One of the three Ronan’el in the boat pointed to one of his compatriots, who was clutching his thigh. “We got attacked by something. Couldn’t tell in the fray what it was. Some manner of beast, I think. He got bit.”
Larkin jumped into the boat and hurried to the wounded Ronan’el. “Hold on,” she said, more serious than Asp had heard her yet. “This might sting a little.”
Sash followed suit and leapt into the boat, Steel-Eyes and Guy climbing aboard just behind them.
“What is the matter,” said Steel-Eyes.
“He’s hurt,” said Asp helplessly.
Larkin raised her hands above her head and brought them down, muttering something in a language Asp did not recognize, on the man’s leg. Faint blue light jolted out where her hands struck him, flying out from the impact before looping back in and disappearing in the Ronan’el's thigh. In the light that bounded out and in from his leg, Asp could see a large pool of blood in the floor of the boat. For a moment, she saw the blood pouring from Gunther’s thigh where she had cut him, and she grew queasy. She knew the Ronan'el was badly hurt and might bleed to death. But as the last remnants of the light faded, the Ronan’el released his leg, and she could see no wound. He straightened up and breathed deeply amidst the sting of the rapid healing. The last thing Asp could make out in the glow of the spell was Larkin’s determined face, a stern look that said she did not intend to let the man die or even suffer.
“Let’s go,” said Kast, “before whatever it was comes back.”
One of the Ronan’el onboard took a long pole and pushed the boat away from the shore, and the craft bobbed out to sea. He and the other non-wounded Ronan’el took up oars and pushed the water back, propelling them forward toward the open ocean.
“We’re headed out across the sea,” said the Ronan’el who was bleeding moments ago. “It’s a pretty straight shot to Lo’Torrin. We’ll get you there, but we’re not allowed in the city, so we’ll be dropping you and leaving as soon as you’re off board.”
“Good,” said Kast. “Thank you for your service.”
They sailed quietly away from the shore. Waves began to lap against the sides of the boat, and the wake it left behind grew distorted by the increasing tide. Ahead of them, the horizon was one uniformly dark mass, impossible to tell where the sea ended and the land began. We might be so far from land that we can’t see it from here anyway, Asp thought. Who knows?
Once they were a good way out into the water, Kast spoke quietly over the sound of the gentle waves. “So, you all seem more to have chanced into this than sought it out.” There was a slight touch of amusement in his voice.
Larkin and Asp laughed, both more nervously than they meant to let on. Sash and Steel-Eyes sat quietly, the sound of the rowing Ronan’el grunts of exertion the only real sound.
“Surely it’s an interesting story,” said Kast when no one spoke. “I am curious.”
“Well,” said Larkin. “I was traveling with this guy, Brokk. We were in the woods one night, and we heard this sound. Like something nasty eating.” She made wet gnawing and guttural gibbering noises to illustrate, her hands before her mouth. “We went to check it out, and there was this group of people already there, looking at this big horde of gross monsters. Like, really gross. Like, undead and lizardy and crazy. And me and Brokk jumped into action!” She leapt to her feet, but quickly had to sit amidst the bobbing of the boat. “And these guys, Penelope and Sash and Steel-Eyes and my uncles, Wesley and Triple T, they attacked the monsters with us. And we killed ‘em all!” She growled and made a fierce face. “So then we went to this town, and then we went through a swamp, and we met this weird guy, and then we met this weird lady, and honestly–everything was weird. The trees were all in rows, and the lady said all this scary stuff, and then she was just gone.” Larkin placed her hands together, then burst them apart, making a poof sound with her mouth. “And then we were on the road again, and we saw these two armies, and we crossed the border, and everybody attacked each other! And we got taken captive, and the Ronan’el were mad at us, and we found out Penelope was a diplomat, and she promised to end the war, and the Ronan’el let us go after a while, but not without taking Triple T and Wesley away, and then we came to get you, and that’s pretty much it.”
Kast sat silently for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Just all that?”
Asp chuckled. “That’s honestly how it went.”
Kast raised an eyebrow. “And when did Arokosiel end up owing you a favor?”
Asp chuckled again. “Oh, that was before we met Larkin. And it’s not a favor exactly. Sash and Steel-Eyes and I caught a corrupt guard in Lo’Torrin who was kidnapping kids and returned them to their families. I mean, it’s not nothing, don’t get me wrong. I’m sure he’ll deal with us nicely given how kind he was when we left. But it’s not like we’re heroes or anything.”
“Rescuing kids from a corrupt guard, eh?” mused Kast. “That might actually be a good in. I don’t know if you realize how big an ask this is going to be.”
“I don’t believe we do,” admitted Sash. “None of us are exactly experts on elven society.”
“Really?” asked Kast. “I expected you to know at least a bit.”
Sash shrugged, a hand trailing in the water. “I tend to the reef of Godtide Sasharaan away from the city. I’ve been away from people for a long time. And I was never one for high society. I don’t know the ins and outs of these things.”
Kast’s voice was not severe, but it did have an edge. “But surely you know about the animosity between the elves and Ronan’el?”
“I do,” said Sash quietly. “But I don’t do that. Life is life. People are people. What matters is protecting what is good, and I don’t have any reason to believe that Ronan’el are not good.”
Kast sighed. “I wish I heard more of that.” He went silent for a moment. “I was a monster to my people before they understood what I am. And I suspect I will be to the elves, as well.”
“You don’t seem like a monster,” said Larkin sweetly.
Kast let out a low laugh. “I’m not. But appearances can be everything to elves.” He turned to Sash. “No offense.”
Sash smiled pleasantly. “None taken.”
The Ronan’el at the oars continued to row, and Asp peered up at the stars once more. Away from the firelight of the camp, they seemed brighter, somehow more benevolent, as though they wished for the success of the travelers beneath them. No, that’s wishful thinking, thought Asp. They’re distant lights. We’re just a group of misfits. Why should the stars care?
“We should get some sleep,” said Kast. “Big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Steel-Eyes snored from the corner of the boat, Guy folded up beside him. In the darkness, his drifting off had gone unnoticed.
“He’s got the right idea,” said Kast. “We should reach Lo’Torrin around dawn. Get some rest. We’ll need it.”
Without further statement, Kast lay back in the boat and fell silent. Larkin curled up on the floor of the boat, and Sash settled into a cross-legged stance, closing their eyes and seeming to go somewhere else entirely. Asp sat up a while, watching the rowers and staring up at the stars. Eventually, she too lay down, her face up to the sky, and tried to sleep. Worries crossed her mind, but before long, the gentle rocking of the boat and the soothing sea air lulled her into a calm. Her last thought before falling asleep was that the stars did seem to smile on her after all, and that perhaps everyone was wrong–their task wasn’t impossible, and they just might be able to do something that would help.
—
“We’re almost there,” said Kast, his voice gentle yet commanding.
Asp stirred and sat up. Steel-Eyes sat at the bow of the boat, looking out ahead–Lo’Torrin’s docks were several hundred feet ahead of them, and the bustle of the city was audible from their boat. Sash was folded up in meditation, their eyes closed and their face telling that they may not have even heard Kast. Larkin too was waking up, rubbing her eyes. The rowers carried on, and it was impossible to tell if they were tired from the constancy and strength of their motions.
“I expect to get more than funny looks,” said Kast. “You may need to vouch for me as we travel.”
“On it,” said Asp, donning a smile. “You are an elf, so you have right to the city, and Sash and I will make introductions for you.”
Sash opened their eyes, a look of concern on their face. “I will?”
Asp chuckled, but Kast looked nervous. “Just follow my lead,” she said.
Sash nodded. They unfolded and placed their feet on the floor of the boat. “If you say so.”
“I do,” replied Asp. She turned to Kast. “What we’re doing is a bit of a gamble, I admit. Have you played cards a lot?”
Kast shook his head.
Asp mimed holding cards before her. “When you have a hand that probably won’t win, but you’re down and you need a win, you have to commit. You act like what you’ve got is the best hand possible. Other people at the table–they don’t know you’ve got bad cards. All they have is the way you act. So you act like you’ve got the best hand imaginable. And if you do it right, they act like you’ve got the best hand, too.” She paused and glanced at the harbor as they approached. She returned her gaze to Kast. “We admittedly don’t have the best hand. But we don’t have the worst hand, either. We’ve got very little compared to what the elves have. So we have to act like we’ve got the best hand. You seem to think you’re a liability in some ways–you see the Ronan’el part of you. But we have to play up the elf part. We have to make them see the Ronan’el part as being a strength.” She gestured toward the city. “Arokosiel will help us. I’m confident about that, no bluffing. And with his approval, our hand gets stronger. Talking to him, we get to practice being confident about what we have. And when we go to the next likeliest-to-listen leader, we have Arokosiel’s support, plus our practice, plus the real strength you give us. And even as the elves get harder to convince, we have more to convince them with. This is doable.” She sat back, relaxing her shoulders. “We just have to commit to the hand.”
Kast cocked an eyebrow. “Do slightkin diplomats play a lot of cards?”
She grinned. “You’d be surprised. Negotiating a treaty is easier when you’re already negotiating a bet.”
Kast chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you say.”
The boat coasted into the harbor, and Kast and the rowers threw on heavy cloaks to hide themselves; the rowers made for an open place at the docks. The group unloaded quickly. Kast got out last.
“Thank you for the journey, my brothers,” he said. “Safe travels back home.”
He vaulted up onto the dock, and the rowers changed direction, immediately heading back out to sea. The one who had been wounded waved to Larkin, who smiled and waved back.
A large elven woman in official clothes approached the group, her eyes on a document in her hands. “Where are you coming from?” she asked.
“The Myriad,” said Asp quickly. Her companions looked quizzically at her.
“Do you have your papers?” asked the woman, still staring at the document.
“We hit a storm,” said Asp. “The papers blew out to sea. I’m very sorry. We do need to get to the Palace, though, and in a hurry.”
The elven woman nodded and looked up, already speaking. “You’re going to need–” She stopped. “Oh. Sasharaan.” She bowed to Sash. “Sir,” she said, bowing to Steel-Eyes. “Carry on.” She stepped out of the way.
Kast looked anxiously at Asp and mouthed the word, “What?”
“Huh,” said Larkin, scratching her head. “That was weird.”
“Let’s go,” said Asp, hurrying down the dock.
They passed unloading boats of all sizes–fishing vessels, merchant ships, massive sail-clad ships with insignias flying the masts. People of all sorts, save for Ronan’el, were loading or unloading freight, speaking with harbor employees, tending to their boats. It was a frantic scene, and Asp cut through the maze of people and cargo quickly, the group trailing behind. They reached the end of a dock and turned towards the main road. But at the intersection of the docks and the main city, they all came skidding to a halt.
“Is that–?” began Kast.
“That looks like–” started Larkin.
“Holy fucking shit,” muttered Asp.
Before them was a large bronze statue. At the center of it, a goggle-clad dwarf stood with gauntlets posed menacingly. Behind him, a mechanical man of massive proportions stood, its arms positioned around the rest of the statue. To the dwarf’s right was a noble elf in simple clothes, waves lapping at their feet. And to the left was a small woman, a slightkin, leather cap on her head and pen and parchment gripped in her hands, a broad smile on her face. A small plaque at the bottom of the statue read, “The rescuers of our city’s children.”
“Steel-Eyes does not look like that,” said Steel-Eyes. “Nose is wrong.”
Sash breathed out slowly. “That . . . is us.”
“You didn’t mention that there was a statue of you in town,” said Kast, a shade of joking in his tone.
“We didn’t know there was,” said Asp, studying the nearly-correct features of her doppelganger. “This . . . this is good. This is really good.”
“You’re heroes!” cried Larkin.
“Heroes,” repeated Asp, still not quite believing what she was looking at. “Well I’ll be damned. Arokosiel is gonna be easier to convince than we thought, I believe.”
A few people nearby sighted the group staring at the statue and seemed to make the connection.
“Hey!” cried a young newtkin man. “It’s them!”
A small group of people surged toward the group, clamoring about finding the people depicted in the statue standing before it.
“Go, now,” ordered Kast.
“Right,” said Asp. She dashed in the opposite direction of the gathering crowd, her associates following close behind. But before them, suddenly, stood a wizened elf in the garb of the harborkeepers. He smiled kindly at them. “You!” he said warmly. “You’ve returned!”
The crowd caught up and swarmed around the group. People began to inspect them, commenting on their appearances.
“The metal man isn’t as big in person,” complained an elven lad.
“His goggles are just like in the statue,” gushed a slightkin grandmother as she held a child.
“Sasharaan is more noble than they look in the statue!” gushed a dwarven girl.
“Can we get some privacy?” Asp whispered to the elven man who had stopped them.
He looked at the panicked faces of the group and nodded. “Clear out!” he shouted. “Give our heroes some space!”
Reluctantly, the crowd dispersed, muttering to themselves.
The elven man watched to make sure the people were really leaving, then turned to the group before him. “Sasharaan, Steel-Eyes, who do you have with you today?”
“I’m Larkin!” chirped the hornkin. “We’re friends.”
Asp stuck out a hand to the man. “I’m Lady Penelope Jasmine. I financed Delia’s trip here. I’m pleased she has done well for your city.”
The man raised his eyebrows. “Very good, Lady Jasmine, very good indeed. Where is Delia?”
“Off exploring another city in advance of my next journey,” said Asp easily. “I’m happy she did well here.”
“Very well indeed,” said the elf. “And this man?” He looked to Kast.
“He’s a guide of sorts,” said Asp without hesitation. “And you are?”
“Gormer Virreth,” replied the elf. “I’m the Harbor Master. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And yours,” Asp said warmly. “We were on our way to the Palace. You see, we need to speak with Lord Arokosiel urgently.”
“So I see,” said Virreth. “I shan’t detain you any longer, then–I certainly don’t wish to delay any more heroics.” He stepped to the side of the road. “Thank you for your service to our city.”
“But of course,” said Asp. “We thank you for your kindness.” She hurried along the road.
Once they had passed out of earshot of Virreth, Larkin caught up with Asp.
“I wanna statue of me somewhere,” she said.
“One day, gods willing, there will be a statue of all of us,” replied Asp, trying to comfort her companion. “A bigger one, made of gold, in every city on the continent.”
“Really?” asked Larkin.
“Why not?” Asp shrugged. “We saved eight kids and got a statue here. We’re trying to save thousands of lives with this. Why shouldn’t we get a statue?”
“Good point,” replied Larkin. She rubbed her chin. “I hope they get my nose right.”
They hurried through town, eyes on the road, and followed the signs toward the Palace. The city became quieter as they left the docks, then louder again as they approached the governmental district. There were more guards, and some of them Asp recognized as those who had accompanied Arokosiel in their showdown with Madris. Several times, she almost nodded to them along with Steel-Eyes and Sash, and had to remind herself that they knew Delia, not Penelope. Eventually, they reached the exterior of a massive, grand building with spires that poked up into the sky. A wall of guards stood at the door, scrutinizing them as they approached.
Bad hand. Gotta win. All in.
She stepped forward, hoping that she hadn’t made a bad bet.
—
“State your business,” ordered the chief guard at the door to the Palace.
“We are here on official business to speak to Lord Arokosiel,” said Asp.
The guard nodded. “And what business is that?”
Asp bit her lower lip, then smiled. “We are emissaries in regard to the war with the Ronan’el.”
The guard frowned, clearly wanting more information. “And how do I know that you’re not lying?”
Asp grinned as if to say that she was more than happy to show her credentials. She produced the signed treaty from her satchel and held it before the guard for a moment–just long enough for him to get a general idea of its contents–and folded it, replacing it in her bag. “It’s highly official business, and you understand that its contents are not for just any eyes.”
The guard scowled but seemed satisfied enough. He stepped aside. “This way, then. Who should I introduce you as?”
Asp grinned further, taking great pleasure in holding some degree of power over the guard. “Sasharaan, Steel-Eyes, and Lady Penelope Jasmine, with friends of the cause.”
He nodded and straightened his posture even further. Seems like he knows a few of those names.
He marched down a series of hallways, taking turns here and there, until they arrived in a large chamber with a throne at one edge. The guard looked around and sighed, then led them to a smaller room off the side of the throne room. In it was a large table covered in maps, and behind it stood Arokosiel, listening patiently to an elderly elven man discussing land rights to the west of the city.
“. . . and that’s why we desperately need your help, Lord Arokosiel. The subsistence of the city depends on it.” The elderly elf’s voice was pleading, almost desperate.
“I agree,” returned Arokosiel. “I’ll have paperwork drawn up to ensure that you and your family retain the rights to that pasture. Please continue your hard work of providing for our citizens, and let me know if there’s anything else our government can do to ensure you can keep up your work.”
The elderly man nodded. “Thank you, my Lord. Your wisdom is appreciated greatly.”
Arokosiel glanced up at the group that had just entered the room. He looked back to the old man. “Is there anything else?”
“No, my Lord. Thank you again.” The old man turned and tottered slowly out of the room. When he was gone, the guard spoke in a clear voice. “Sasharaan, Steel-Eyes, Lady Jasmine, and friends of the cause, here to speak to you about the war with the Ronan’el.”
“Thank you. That will be fine, Rillen,” said Arokosiel. “You may return to your post.”
The guard turned and marched away. Steel-Eyes and Kast fidgeted anxiously.
“I must say,” began Arokosiel, “I was surprised when you saved our children. But I am certainly more surprised that you are here in connection to the war.”
Asp smiled to acknowledge the outlandishness. “Greetings, Lord Arokosiel. I am Lady Penelope Jasmine. I believe you met my representative, Delia Violet.”
“Ah, yes, Miss Violet,” replied Arokosiel, leaning casually on the map-strewn table. “Thank you for financing her. She was instrumental in a great deed I hope you heard about.”
“I did,” said Asp. “And I thank you for honoring her with the statue by the docks.”
Arokosiel smiled. “You are from Eunax, yes? Your accent sounds like you’re a native to the slightkin lands.”
“I am,” said Asp. “But of course, if you don’t mind my directness, we have more pressing business than my accent. Allow me to introduce our party. You know Sasharaan and Steel-Eyes, I take it from the statue. This is Larkin.” She nodded towards Larkin, who waved excitedly.
“Hi! I’m Larkin!” the hornkin said. “I’m here to help.”
“Thank you, Larkin,” said Arokosiel. “And this man?” He inclined his head toward Kast, still cloaked and hooded.
Asp smiled to soften the blow of what was about to happen. “This,” she said, theatrically sweeping to Kast’s side, “is Kastark Fayedd. He is our emissary from the Ronan’el, and a vital component of our mission.” She motioned to Kast to remove his hood.
Kast threw off his hood. His multi-colored scales glittered in the morning light, and his angular eyes looked stolidly back at Arokosiel, who was scrutinizing him with only partially-concealed shock.
“What–” began Arokosiel before stopping and beginning again. “Who are you?”
Kast smiled in a way that Asp recognized–a certain pain in being judged, but also a defiance of accepting that judgment. “I am Kastark Fayedd. Born of the Fae, both Ronan’el and elf. It was foretold by the gods that I would play a role in something bigger than myself, and I know this to be it. I am not your enemy. I am an elf like you, even if I am also a Ronan’el. I am here to end the war.”
Arokosiel had listened quietly, leaning forward. He stood in silence for a moment after Kast had finished speaking. “You’re here to discuss ending the war, then,” he said finally.
“Yes,” confirmed Asp, producing the treaty once more. She closed the distance to Arokosiel and offered it to him, stepping back to join her comrades. “You have likely heard that the treaty was broken, which I regrettably admit was a mistake on our parts. With Sasharaan, we crossed the treaty line, and chaos broke loose. We were taken prisoner, and we promised the Ronan’el council that we would bargain for peace. That may sound as though we made a desperate deal, backed into a corner, but nothing could be further from the truth. We believe in peace, and in righting our wrong, and we want the war to end for the sake of both the elves and Ronan’el. Imagine the lives that could be spared if this war were to end. Imagine the age of prosperity that peace could bring. Imagine the–”
Arokosiel withdrew a pen and signed the treaty.
“You agree with the treaty?” asked Asp, stunned that she hadn’t had to finish her speech.
Arokosiel smiled. “Why shouldn’t I? Everything you say is true. Unlike some of my fellow leaders, I am not hard-hearted. I want peace, and I believe the Ronan’el do too, especially given the signatures here. Seeing Urdukk’s name on this paper is a shock, and I see they mean business.”
“We do mean business,” replied Kast. “And your support is appreciated.”
Arokosiel chuckled. “I believe there are a few things I can do to help.” He pulled a piece of parchment from a drawer in the table and began to write, pressing down lightly on the table’s surface. “First, I see your strategy. I am the first of the elves you came to. You knew I would be agreeable, though by the looks on your faces, not this agreeable.” He chuckled again, eyes on his writing. “You knew that a signature from one of us would be persuasive to the others. So to continue that strategy, I recommend you approach the mountain elves next. They are led by Leonarra, who is generally a wise enough leader to see the value of this treaty. She too will sign, and that will give you leverage with the other, more unforgiving, of us.”
“Thank you, Lord Arokosiel,” said Sash.
“What’s more,” continued Arokosiel, “you should speak with Celeon before you leave. He is a protector of this city, and he knows a great deal about the elven courts. He may have wisdom for you that I do not, and he certainly will want to support you. I believe that speaking with him will have great dividends, even if only to bolster you.” He paused his writing and looked up. “Let us be honest, here: you are undertaking something that will face great opposition. It may be doomed to fail. I don’t know that you will be able to get all the signatures you need. But Celeon is an advantage you cannot forego–you need all the help you can get.” He resumed writing.
“Celeon is good man,” grunted Steel-Eyes.
“That he is,” said Arokosiel. “And lastly, you will take a letter from me–which I am writing now–and that letter will introduce you to the other leaders. Having Sasharaan gives you a measure of prestige, but a letter from me will expand that.” He signed the letter beneath his pen with a flourish and held it out to them with the signed treaty. “It is not a guarantee. But it is the best I can offer.”
Asp went forward and took the papers, scanned the letter quickly, and placed them in her bag.
“Thanks!” cried Larkin. “You’re really nice!”
Arokosiel chuckled, but a look of sadness covered his face within a moment. “Running a kingdom is hard. Some of my work feels impossible at times. But what you are aiming to do–it may actually be impossible. I hope it is not, but I fear it may be.” He looked down at the floor of the humble room for a moment, then back up at them. “If there is anything else I can do, please let me know.”
“Thank you,” said Sash, bowing.
“Yes, thank you,” added Kast.
Asp looked carefully at Arokosiel. She knew his expression–defeat before losing. She forced a smile. “In Lowglen, we have a saying,” she said. “A drought may starve the crops, but one good rain from the heavens can feed a city.”
Arokosiel furrowed his brows, and then a look of peace dawned on his face. “One good rain,” he repeated. He smiled. “This is true.”
Asp smiled back at him, this time genuinely.
Steel-Eyes grunted. “Is there anything else.”
“You are right,” said Arokosiel. “Your task is urgent. I have nothing else for you right now, but do not be afraid to return if I can help you in the future. Peace is more urgent than war.”
The party nodded and bowed to Arokosiel one more time.
“Farewell,” said Arokosiel. “May we meet again under better conditions.”
“Good day, my Lord,” said Asp. She curtsied once more, then turned and swept out of the room, her comrades following close behind.
They wound back through the empty throne room and down the hallways, following their original steps in reverse, and emerged at the main door. The guard who had led them to Arokosiel looked at them severely. “Is your business concluded?”
“No,” said Asp haughtily. “Far from it. But our business with you is.” She smiled and hurried down the steps back into the city.
The group caught up to her as they reached the cobblestones of the main road.
“That went better than expected,” said Sash.
“A lot better than expected,” replied Kast.
Asp laughed. “I told you–you just gotta play the hand you’ve got.”
You can read the next chapter here!
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