Chapter Three #2
“Ride with speed, stealth, and wisdom,” Le’ral replied before I made for the door, the tingle of magic flowing over me once again.
Stepping out into the hall, I made for the barracks, tossing over the information I had as one does a bowl of greens sprinkled with peppered oil and tangy vinegar.
My suspicions were that the child who had been spirited away was close to the king.
As in blood relations. The way Aelir spoke of this unknown elf, the import of locating him, and the secrecy were telling signs.
Finding out a noble house had a by-blow happened daily.
If that were the case here then the Stillcloud family were the same as all the others who sat above the struggling masses.
My admiration for Aelir did not mean I was blind to what those who came before him may have done.
Hells gate, show me one noble who did not use the power they wielded to force the weaker into shameful situations.
If this Cadere was a close relative of the king, an elder brother perchance, then should it not be him seated on the ivory throne?
This would indeed affect the crown in a large way.
Still, not knowing the exact details meant little.
I had enough information about Coelum Cadere to begin the mission.
More would fall into my hands as we drew closer.
Le’ral would also keep me informed of details he felt would do me well as we tracked this elf down.
Perhaps the other scouts who moved in shadows would find the wet nurse only to discover the babe had died or she had perished on the long journey.
Then I would be freed from having to delve under the mountains like a tunnel troll.
I could return to the woods, where I was happiest, and speak with squirrels about the future acorn harvest. Yes, that sounded wonderful.
I would much rather sit by a tree to discuss the fall of rabbit numbers with a gray fox than attend this dinner tonight.
At least the fox with its mate would not pain me…
With the evening now upon me, I had no choice but to head out.
I had visited my fellow scouts to inform them of the news of the tundra clans’ battles reaching the Lake Falomar region, bathed, dressed, and sat in my small room with the narrow bed and slim dresser to watch the sun set through a slit of a window in the wooden building.
With no other recourse, I gathered up the slip of paper that had been delivered to my room with the directions to this farmstead and headed out to the stables. Hasulett was pleased to see me. I slid into his stall to feed him some green apple slices one by one.
You look rested. Did they curry you well?
Food, water, apples, blanket. No bells. Sleep.
Good, I’m glad there were no bells. He disliked loud bells for some reason. And rabbits, if they stood in his path.
Shall we take a ride to a farm this eve? Slow, easy, just you and me.
Apples at the end?
Yes, my friend, apples at the end.
I miss the brush in your hand.
He gave me a soft nudge with his shoulder.
I took his head between my hands, resting my brow to his, and let my love for him flow into his thoughts.
This horse and I had been through much together.
And while he had an aversion to church bells and hares, his affection for me was evident.
Being a horse, he could not put that into flowery words, but knowing he missed my brush on his sides touched me deeply.
You are my dearest friend, Hasulett.
Beiro love.
We stood brow to brow for a long moment, the chuff of his warm breath filling my heart before I pressed a kiss to his smoky muzzle and then stepped back.
“We must leave or we will be late. Pasil dislikes me being late.” I sighed aloud, giving the gray gelding a gentle scratch under his ear before feeding him another tart apple slice.
We rode out shortly after the apples were gone, the well-packed bailey quiet now aside from the pens of animals kept for slaughter.
I felt their fear of being in a strange place.
It was hard not to leap down to free them.
I had done so on my first day in Avolire.
The emotions of the beasts were so overwhelming to me that I flung open the gates, weeping as I did so, and watched the panic ensue.
Sheep, goats, two calves, four hogs, and several geese ran wild.
I had been taken aside by Kenton once the majority of the animals had been rounded up.
That was my first lesson in how to set up blocks inside my mind to filter the steady voices of so many beasts.
It was still hard, several seasons later, to ride past those pens.
Understanding most here in Melowynn ate the meat of the creatures I spoke with helped little at times.
Danubia, in her wisdom, explained that the natural order must be respected.
So while we who worshipped her chose not to partake in consuming meat, many of the animals of the woods did.
Like the wolf consumes the stag, many elves—and the other races—do as well, as they require meat for sustenance.
The cycles of life, death, and rebirth are sacred.
She says while druids choose to forgo eating meat, it is not the only choice, and we who are deeply connected to the flora and fauna should always try to lead others to understand that intention is of great import.
We should not judge those who differ from us.
We should gently lead them to understanding that every creature that gives its life should be treated with respect and gratitude for the life given.
She tells us to seek out personal harmony and understanding with those who do not walk the same path as we druids do.
That was not always an easy commandment to follow.
Most days, it was nigh impossible. Yet, we tried and tried and would continue trying.
Change, as the king has said, does not come in a flood but in a steady drip which slowly changes the course of great waterways.
Dripping is tedious to be sure, especially when the drips seem to be hitting rock-hard skulls.
Musing about the hard-headedness of thousands as we rode, I found myself outside the city limits with the gentle sea winds at my back.
The farmlands that fed the castle exploded into being as soon as one rode through the city gates.
Verdant fields of wheat, corn, and vegetables lined the wide dirt road.
Orchards with trees heavy with fruit stood under the new moon, branches bowed with apples, pears, peaches, and the fat plums I so loved.
Round hives of bees were everywhere. The final scouts returning home with pollen sacs full to bursting.
I loved the sounds of the world and the scents.
Honey on the breeze, the rustle of leaves, the soft clops of hooves on hard dirt.
I stopped briefly to pluck some wildflowers as a gift.
Purple bells, white tatted lace posies, and a spattering of bright yellow bee balm.
“Thank you for the color you bless us with,” I whispered as I tucked the flowers under my armpit to mount.
As I did not have the gift to speak with plants, I could not say if the flowers felt pain or anguish.
I hoped not. Back in the saddle once more, I tapped my horse mentally instead of using my heels to his sides.
Hasulett was content, his emotions calm, his thoughts random.
He, too, smelled the honey from the hives as we passed.
We both heard the bark of a dog far away, the low of cattle, and the soft blats of sheep.
The night began to creep in as we made our way to the old farm that sat by a small, round pond.
Soft chirps of frogs at the edge of the pond greeted us.
I pulled up at the gate, taking in the farm.
A rather large house with new thatching, windows warm with the glow of the hearth.
That made me think of the dwarves I would ride out with tomorrow.
They had mentioned several of their gods, but I knew little of any of them.
Perhaps that was something we could teach each other on the long trek ahead.
Perhaps if they knew of Danubia, they would be less prone to teasing elves.
“There is always hope when there is knowledge shared says Beirich,” I whispered to the frogs and crickets.
The front door of the farmhouse opened, light spilling out onto a tidy yard with a large garden in rich bloom.
A tiny shape flew out of the doorway, wings beating madly as Tezen streaked over my horse’s head to greet me.
He snapped at the pixie, thinking it was a blow fly.
“I’m no fly, you great gray nag,” Tezen yelled and grabbed my nose to bestow a kiss to it. “Ha! Right on the freckle! My aim is true!”
“There are many dots on my nose, so your skills at aiming your kisses are not quite proven,” I teased as she released my nose to hover before me like a jade hummingbird. “Why are you here?”
She lighted on my shoulder as we slowly rode closer to the tiny stables.
“Well, I thought you might need a little help here tonight. You know. Seeing them sucking on each other’s faces when you had a hot streak for Pasil might be hard.
I can keep you occupied when they get too lovey-dovey.
Also, I brought some fire brandy from the sacred vats of the Grommveldir brewers that Smuta gave me. ”
“Smuta?” I asked, eager to hear when and where the pixie and the dwarf had met up, when two shapes filled the doorway. Pasil and Teryn, hand-in-hand, called out a greeting to us.
“Smuta. She of the hefty titties,” Tezen giggled wickedly before a young stable boy emerged from the small barn. Slipping to the ground, I handed the reins to the sleepy elven lad, patted his head, and made my way to the front door.