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ChapterOne
Farrendel Laesornysh, prince of the elves of Tarenhiel, sank into the burning roar of his magic. Blue bolts of power surrounded him, flaring out to lash at the trolls who had unwisely invaded across the border from their kingdom of Kostaria.
A line of trolls raised muskets and fired, all of them aiming for Farrendel.
Farrendel flicked his fingers and sent a blast of his magic surging forward. The magic incinerated the musket balls into dust and smoke before bursting against the trolls who had fired, hurling them to the ground and against the trunks of trees several yards from where they had knelt.
A few rocks hurtled through the air on a wave of icy troll magic and peppered against Farrendel’s shield, lacking the strength to make his magic so much as falter.
Farrendel glanced over his shoulder to the far side of the forest meadow where his brother Weylind led the border patrol in holding back the left flank of the troll regiment while Farrendel alone fought the right and most of the center.
Weylind flipped over a wall of rock that a pack of trolls had magically shoved from the ground. With his long sword flashing in one hand, Weylind unleashed a wave of his own magic. Roots burst from the ground, crumbling the rock wall into pebbles. The trees at the edge of the meadow lashed forward with their branches, knocking into the trolls trying to circle around Weylind’s warriors.
Good. Weylind had the battle well in hand on that side of the meadow. Not that Farrendel should have doubted him. Before Farrendel had come into his magic as he matured, Weylind had been the foremost warrior among the elves, back when Weylind had been the crown prince while his and Farrendel’s father still lived.
His father. Farrendel gritted his teeth, the ache from his father’s death burning in his chest. He refused to feel the pain of watching his father die. Not even while fighting the trolls, his father’s killers.
His magic tried to crackle farther, brighter, but he held it in check, not letting the depth of his emotions cause him to lose control over the blasts of power. If he did not keep his magic under tight control, he could end up killing Weylind and all the elven warriors fighting with them, not to mention level this entire section of forest, including the nearby village that Farrendel, Weylind, and the warriors were protecting.
Still, he was done with this battle. He had held back, giving these trolls a chance to surrender or retreat to Kostaria if they wished.
He released a little more of his magic, the bolts of power sizzling hotter, slicing sharper. He lashed the bolts forward, taking out the first line of trolls who had regathered and tried to charge him again.
They fell, the magic slicing through their armor, down through bone and muscle and blood until it stabbed their hearts.
Farrendel refused to let his stomach churn. Refused to feel the way each death shuddered into his own soul. This was why he had earned the elven name Laesornysh, meaningDeath on the Wind.His magic made killing quick. Efficient.
He was a weapon. Nothing more.
He allowed the next pack of trolls to charge him, closing the distance. When they were mere feet away, he drew his two swords from his back and ran at them with a flying leap. He plunged a sword into the first troll’s chest, then used the falling body to spring into the air, coming down on the shoulders of the next troll.
With magic coating his blades, he spun and flipped in the air, parrying the swords thrust at him, blocking the troll magic hurled at him, and thrusting his swords into his attackers.
By the time his feet touched the ground again, that ground was littered with bodies, forming lumps among the trees and on the grass of the meadow. Not one troll remained of the raiding party.
A massacre. And he had been the one to cause it.
Farrendel lowered his arms, letting the crackle of his killing magic dissipate. With his emotions locked in an icy place in his chest, he cleaned his swords using the jerkin of the nearest body before sheathing them.
Around the meadow and the edges of the forest, the other elf warriors fanned out, checking that all the trolls were dead. They were. Farrendel knew that already.
Footsteps brushed the grass behind him. Weylind, his brother and the king of Tarenhiel, halted beside him, his sword also once again sheathed. Weylind’s gaze flicked over the destruction. “It is worrisome that they attacked in such great numbers the day before our diplomatic meeting with Escarland’s king. While I do not believe that meeting is a great secret, I did not think the trolls had the resources to learn of it.”
As the trolls’ kingdom of Kostaria occupied the far north while Escarland lay to the south, the two kingdoms did not share a border. News of happenings in Escarland would have to go through Tarenhiel to reach Kostaria, unless Kostaria had dealings with the kingdoms to the far west.
Something for consideration, though they had little time to dwell on it now.
Farrendel clasped his hands behind his back, trying to ignore the urge to rub his stained fingers against his tunic until all the blood was cleaned away. “Perhaps they wished to delay us from reaching our meeting with Escarland. The trolls would only benefit from a renewal of our war with the humans.”
War on two borders. Tarenhiel had fought such a war only fifteen years before, beset both by the trolls from Kostaria in the north and the humans from Escarland in the south, though Kostaria and Escarland had never allied together against Tarenhiel. Only the death of the kings of all three kingdoms had halted that series of wars, bringing about the uneasy peace, punctuated by frequent raids, that had occurred in the years since.
But as tensions were escalating with the trolls, it was imperative that peace be made with Escarland. Tarenhiel could not risk splitting its forces again, and Farrendel could not lose his brother to a war as he had already lost his father.
Weylind gave a short nod. “Yes. After the months it took to arrange this meeting, King Averett of the humans would be affronted if we arrived late or missed it altogether. The trolls must know this, somehow.”
Either that, or they simply had really inconvenient timing. As it was, Farrendel and Weylind would have to board the train as soon as possible and travel through the night to cross the length of Tarenhiel and reach the meeting place at the southern border with Escarland in time.
Another war to avert. Another war Farrendel would have to fight if they did not.
