1
“I don’t like it, Sister.”
I stood beside Araton on the shore of Lake Caran. It sat on the central plateau of the Lands of the East and got its name from a special red plant that grew at its bottom, tinting the water a crimson hue, so that at times the lake looked like a blood lagoon.
“Nobody likes it, Brother,” I replied, peering sideways at his gray armor with copper decorations to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “That’s why Father counts on us to resolve the situation.”
“It’s not that, Nauriel.” Araton’s eyes shifted to the stone dam controlling the river that rushed down into the valley. “I sense something. Like vibrations in the water.”
I placed one hand on his shoulder; his coppery cloak was soft under my palm. “It’s just the armies moving at once.”
He exhaled sharply through his nose, easing up a bit. “You’re right.” He removed my hand from his shoulder and held it briefly, looking at it as he brushed his thumb over the back of my fingers. In the past, he would have smiled at me before releasing my hand. “Come on. Our soldiers are waiting.”
I watched him walk toward our horses, grazing a bit farther away. Then I turned back to the lake and closed my eyes with a sad sigh.
Araton had almost overcome his grief; it was now obvious. He hadn’t been heard screaming or despairing for quite a while, and for several years, he had been strolling around the palace and engaging with other elves again.
Soon, we should say farewell to him.
And I wasn’t ready.
Ringil’s neigh snapped me back to reality, and the roar of the river spring on the nearest mountain seemed to explode into my ears. I frowned at the thin but impetuous waterfalls plunging into the scarlet water, then I turned around and mounted my mare.
We rode across the lush hills, leaving Aegel—the elven capital built within the evergreen coniferous and broadleaf forest covering the Aroron Mountains—behind us.
Heading south, the slopes gradually leveled out into plains scattered with large trees. We caught up with our army and moved toward the Glawar, the majestic, gleaming river that marked the border with the Kingdom of Men and cascaded from a towering cliff directly into the Thalion Sea.
And on the opposite bank, the current King’s legion was already lined up.
For centuries, a beautiful stone bridge had connected our regions.
But a few years ago, when the human king had secretly met my father and threatened to invade our territory because he refused to grant him Calien’s power to save the men’s lands—affected by an unknown disease killing the crops and plantations—King Erech had ordered the bridge’s immediate destruction.
In doing so, he had marked the beginning of irreparable hostility between our peoples.
Araton and I spurred the horses toward the riverbank.
“Let the Lord of the Kingdom of Men step forward,” I said loudly in the common tongue, “and let us seek a solution together without unnecessary bloodshed.”
Seeing that my father wasn’t even at the rear of our army, the king didn’t stoop to coming and speaking to us. Instead, he sent his general—a stocky man riding a large horse capable of supporting his size.
He removed his helmet, tucked it under his arm, and looked at us with disgust. He moved his jaw—covered with a blonde beard that had a white spot on his chin—as if he were chewing tobacco.
“My lord has nothing more to say, Elf Prince,” he began in a rasping voice.
The fact that he addressed my brother instead of me, even though I was the one who had spoken, clearly showed how much his people despised the elves for allowing females to join the army. Women were forbidden to fight or work; they were to stay at home, care for children, cook, and clean.
And the fact that they tolerated such a life enraged me.
“Your king has made his decision,” the general went on. “And so has mine.”
“It’s the wrong decision,” I interrupted.
He made an annoyed face, and for a moment I thought he might spit in disdain. Instead, he held back, and his frown deepened. “Our supplies are running low. We won’t survive the coming winter.”
“We offered you fields to cultivate,” Araton finally spoke in a calm tone despite squeezing the reins in his fist. “Right here where we’re standing now.” He pointed at the fertile plains behind us. “Why won’t your lord accept them?”
“We will help your farmers work the land, so it yields its fruits faster,” I added, gazing at each soldier with hope. “And in the meantime, our druids will analyze your lands to discover what’s harming them and how to heal them.”
“We don’t need your druids, she-elf!” the man bawled at me with such anger that a string of saliva stuck to the beard on his chin.
“We just want the Crystal!” His mount became frisky, and he struggled to control it with one hand.
“We helped you take it back during the Great Battle. We have the right to use its power!”
I curled my lips in indignation. The right. As if, to them, Calien was nothing more than an object that could be passed from hand to hand.
“Give it to us,” the general commanded. “Or we will force you.”
By reaching Aegel. They wanted to sow terror and flood the streets of our city with the blood of its citizens. They wanted to bring death to a place of peace.
Until we submitted to them.
A surge of blind rage overtook me, causing me to abandon all attempts at negotiation, draw my sword, and raise it toward the bright sky while Ringil began to paw at the ground.
“Heed my words, humans!” I shouted. “My name is Nauriel, daughter of King Erech, heir to the throne of the Elven Kingdom, and keeper of Calien’s Crystal.
” I let the anger in my voice reach into the hearts of the soldiers on the other shore, whose young faces showed a shadow of fear.
Then, staring at the general, I added, “And I shan’t let you take it. ”
His face crumpled like leaves in flames. “Then a new war begins,” he declared.
An icy shiver ran through me to my bones, as for a moment, I thought I didn’t hear the general’s rough voice.
I thought I heard Mornon’s resounding one.
The man put his helmet back on, lifted his arm, and lowered it firmly, grinning at me.
The next moment, the men’s army split into two groups.
A pair of large carts, pulled by draft horses and filled with beams of all sizes, moved forward along with a guy who had brown skin, bamboo jewelry, and wore clothing typical of his people—a wide tunic that reached up to his knees, and trousers that were wide at the top and tight at the ankles.
“A witch,” Araton hissed.
“Exiled,” I added immediately, glaring at him. I refused to believe that the witches had decided to support the men in this attack.
The witch stood beside the general and greeted us by kissing two of his fingers and then touching his forehead.
“Do what you’ve been handsomely paid for, savage,” the man ground out, stepping aside.
The witch’s white teeth stood out on his dark face as he flashed a wolfish grin. Then he moved closer to the riverbank, took a deep breath, and slightly spread his arms, palms facing the sun as he closed his eyes.
The next moment, wrapped in spirals of golden light, the beams in the carts soared and began to flow toward the river.
“By the Spirits,” my brother cursed in a low voice.
The witch was brought here to build a bridge.