Epilogue
Several months later…
Fieran dashed along a thin branch in the upper reaches of the treetop palace of Ellonahshinel, his swords in his hands, his magic twining down the blades.
The dwarven bracers were laced around his wrists, the dwarven-forged iron within them playing with his magic.
He leapt, flipped over his swords, and landed lightly on the branch, spinning to face the other way.
Farther along the branch, Dacha mirrored his actions, facing Fieran with his magic-laced swords in his hands.
Fieran stepped into a thrust, the space between them large enough that there was no risk of hitting Dacha. Dacha too stepped into a thrust before sweeping his sword in an arc. Fieran wove his sword in a matching sweep, sinking into the peace of the graceful movements.
It was only the two of them this morning.
Adry had a final drill with the elven army before she was officially discharged into the reserves while Louise had a breakthrough on the mechanical problem she’d been working on so she’d disappeared into the workshop first thing.
Or perhaps she’d never left last night. Fieran wasn’t sure.
He was glad of the quiet moment with his dacha, the stillness broken only by the crackle of their magic and the faint scuffing of their feet on the branches.
This was the only chance Fieran would get to talk to his dacha alone before Fieran left with Pip’s family, first for the western rail terminal and from there to the dwarven mountains.
The Half-Breed Squadron had remained on station at Fort Defense ever since the war had ended, spending the winter in a snug new barracks the army had finally gotten around to building.
Almost before the ink had dried on the surrender and long before an official peace treaty could be signed, Mongavaria had descended into chaos. The entire Mongavarian royal family, including Empress Bella, had been shot and killed by rebels.
Things had somewhat stabilized this spring—Jayna had a hand in that or so he’d heard—and the Alliance had finally given his squadron leave for well-deserved rest.
For several more minutes, Fieran and Dacha whirled and stabbed, thrust and spun, in a pattern as familiar as breathing, as soothing as a song, and as deadly as the magic both of them wielded.
They were Laesornysh, and they were ready to defend their kingdoms should the need arise.
Perhaps someday they wouldn’t be needed.
Maybe by the time Dacha placed swords in Tryndar’s hands, the gesture would be more symbolic than preparation.
Maybe Fieran’s younger siblings would be free to walk in the footsteps of their Dachasheni Ellarin, acting as peacemakers rather than warriors, creating art rather than death.
But that wasn’t Fieran’s destiny. He was a warrior, like his father before him, and he would guard his kingdoms with all the power of his magic and blades, on the ground and in the sky.
After one last swipe, Fieran raised his sword, saluted his dacha with it as Dacha saluted him, and cut off his magic at the same time as Dacha did.
As he sheathed his swords, Fieran couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Dacha’s gaze. “I’m going to propose to Pip.”
Dacha made a noise in the back of his throat, but that was it.
After several heartbeats, Fieran forced himself to look up. Dacha stood there, regarding him with a look he couldn’t decipher. Part sorrow, part joy, part something else that couldn’t be named.
Clearing his throat, Dacha stepped forward and gripped Fieran’s shoulders. “I am happy for you, sason. She is good for you, and you are good for her.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty great.” Fieran grinned, gripping his dacha’s shoulders for a moment. Then he stepped back, already starting to turn. “I need to talk to Merrik before I leave.”
“Go on.” Dacha smiled, making a motion toward him.
Fieran grinned and dashed along the branch toward his family’s set of rooms in one of the far-flung branches of Ellonahshinel.
The main room sat at a slightly lower position on a larger branch while six rooms were grown into various branches, connecting to the main room with various stairs and bridges.
While Fieran could hear voices and laughter coming from the main room, where his mother and younger siblings would be gathering for breakfast, he bypassed it and headed straight for the lift set on the far side.
Stepping inside, he used the button to engage the small magically-powered engine.
With a hum, the lift lowered through the broad leaves and tangled branches of Ellonahshinel toward the lush green of the elven forest floor.
It settled with barely a whisper on the thick grass. To one side, Dacha’s workshop rose from the forest floor, grown in place, with a second, smaller lift resting on a platform built into the roof.
To the other side, Uncle Iyrinder and Aunt Patience’s elven house grew from a small maple tree. In a normal forest, this tree wouldn’t have survived, shaded by the upper canopy of Ellonahshinel as it was. But this was an elven forest where magic laced through every tree and plant.
Uncle Iyrinder and Merrik were strolling toward the treehouse cottage from somewhere deeper in the forest, likely from their own morning practice session. Or perhaps theirs, too, had turned into a talk session instead, given the looks on their faces.
After saying something to his dacha, Merrik turned and headed in Fieran’s direction. “I can see you are eager to leave.”
“Yes, but it isn’t only that.” Fieran rocked back and forth on his heels, barely holding back his magic. “I’m going to propose to Pip while we’re there.”
“Good.” Merrik matched his grin, a glint in his eyes. “I’m going to propose to Adry.”
Fieran exaggerated a gasp as he pressed his hands over his heart. “Going behind my back? Again?”
“I would not do so, except that someone is leaving on a long trip and will not be back for at least a month, perhaps longer.” Merrik crossed his arms, his grin now more a smirk. “And maybe it makes me impatient, but I am unwilling to wait until you return.”
“I don’t blame you.” Fieran clapped Merrik on the shoulder, that fizzing excitement still burning in his veins.
He might need a second practice session today at this rate.
“So, let me guess. You got Ellie a book for the gift. Tryndar is easy. He will be happy with just about any toy you get him. A new tool for Louise, probably for Dacha as well. A new mug for Mama or maybe a new flavor of hot chocolate. But I’m very curious what you got me. ”
In the elven tradition, a male elf would give gifts to the family of the female he was courting to gain their blessing before he proposed.
The gifts would demonstrate to the family how well he knew them and cared for them, and thus for his prospective bride.
An elf would propose after that, although for elves that could be months afterwards, if not years. Merrik wouldn’t wait that long.
“I thought about a tool belt so that you could carry around Pip’s tools. Or a new set of flying goggles. But then I decided that I already had the best gift.” Merrik’s smirk glinted in his eyes as he gestured at himself. “You are getting me for a brother.”
Fieran tipped back his head as he barked a laugh. “Yes, you’re right. That is the best. And you know you have my blessing.”
“Linshi.” Merrik’s smirk softened slightly. “I still got matching tool belts for you and Pip, but I will give them to you once the two of you are engaged.”
“You know you have her blessing as well.” Fieran stuck out his hand, letting just a hint of his magic wrap around his fingers. “Brothers?”
Merrik let some of his own magic twine around his fingers before he clasped Fieran’s hand. Their magic fizzled and popped in their palms for a moment as they shook. “Brothers.”
The handshake wasn’t enough. Fieran pulled Merrik in for a quick, backslapping hug before he released Merrik. “We really should have thought of that new handshake long before now.”
“It is far superior to the spit handshake.” Merrik shook his head. “Although, we could not have done it before we came into our magic.”
“True.” Fieran took a step back in the direction of the lift.
He needed to grab breakfast, shower, finish packing, and say goodbye to his family before he joined Pip and her family at the train station.
“Well, I need to go. I want to hear all about how it goes when I get back. Just leave out the kissing parts.”
“Same. And best of luck impressing the dwarves.” Merrik was already starting to turn, heading for his own breakfast.
Fieran laughed and waved as he jogged toward the lift. “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
Pip leaned close to the window as the elven train glided to a halt on the spur track on one side of the western rail terminal. The familiar buildings spread before her beneath the spindly arms of the nearly bare trees, the first buds of spring dotting the ends of the twigs.
Home.
A lump formed in her throat. It had been nearly a year since she’d last seen it, and now she was returning only to say goodbye to it once again. This place that had shaped her, that held all her childhood memories, would never be her home again.
“Are you all right?” Fieran placed an arm around her shoulders, tugging her close.
“I’m fine.” The words were hoarse, her throat so tight it hurt. But she didn’t cry. Not yet, anyway. “It’s just…change is hard.”
“Yeah.” Fieran’s grip tightened around her as he enfolded her into a full hug.
She wrapped her arms around him and leaned into him, soaking in his warmth and strength. The next couple of days would be hard. Good, but hard. At least she would have Fieran at her side, bolstering her up.
Dacha, Muka, and Mak gathered their bags and climbed off the train.
Pulling herself together, Pip released Fieran, stepped back, and picked up her bag. She could do this. Surely saying goodbye to her childhood home wouldn’t be as hard as many of the things she’d done in the past year.