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Outside the train’s rows of windows set into the silver, curving frame of the sleek train car, the forest flashed by, still shadowed in the early morning gray.
He would not sleep more tonight. At least this nightmare was a mild one. If Weylind should overhear his screams during one of his more terrible nightmares, Weylind would realize the extent to which Farrendel still struggled. His brother would pull him from the war, make him stay home and away from fighting and killing.
As much as Farrendel hated all of it, he would not risk Weylind going into battle alone.
After sliding out of bed, Farrendel opened the window set in the roof and boosted himself up and onto the roof. He wore only the trousers he slept in, his feet and chest bare. The cool, early summer breeze blasted his face, dried the sweat from his skin, and whipped his hair behind him, tearing away the last shreds of his nightmare.
He balanced lightly in a crouch, facing forward. Ahead, the branches of the forest hung low over the train, growing in curving arches to allow the train to pass with minimal disturbance to the forest.
The first tree branch whipped at him knee high. He jumped over it and immediately dropped as the next one aimed right at his head. He twisted between the next two, then vaulted off one of the lower branches to clear a higher one before landing lightly on the train’s roof once again.
He fell into a rhythm. Not thinking. Not feeling. Pushing his reflexes and strength as hard as he could.
As dawn broke across the horizon to the east, the trees thinned until the broad expanse of the Hydalla River, the border between Tarenhiel and Escarland, spread in a rippling line as far as he could see in both directions. In the distance, he spotted the lump of Linder Island jutting from the center of the river. It was nothing but a large rock breaking the flow of the river, but in a few hours, it would become the host of the first diplomatic meeting between Tarenhiel and Escarland in fifteen years.
Farrendel stood, balancing lightly on the top of the train, and peered across the morning-shadowed river toward the hazy gray bank on the far side. Escarland. If this diplomatic meeting failed, there was a good chance he would be called on to hold back the Escarlish armies from crossing that river. The river would run red with blood, choked with bodies.
That was not a future he ever wanted to see. Whatever it took today, whatever Escarland demanded, they needed peace at this border. One war was already breaking him. He could not fight two.
As much as he would rather linger here, with the breeze cooling his sweat-dampened skin, Weylind would come looking for him shortly to discuss final details before they left. Not that Farrendel had many duties for this meeting. He was simply there to watch for treachery on the part of the humans and deal with it swiftly and lethally if it occurred.
The burden of the negotiation would rest on Weylind and Sindrel, an elf scholar who had spent a century studying human customs. While both Weylind and Farrendel could read Escarlish, Sindrel had studied human legal contracts and would be better able to understand any confusing language the humans might use to slip trickery into the treaty itself.
Never trust a human bargain. That was the common saying, after all. Humans lied. They treated words flippantly. Everyone knew humans were a treacherous, deceitful race. The trolls to the north were fierce enemies, but at least they had their code that they honored.
Humans did not even have that. Humans claimed honor, only to throw it away the first chance they had.
Farrendel shook his head and dropped through the hatch into his private train car. He needed to wash now so that his hair would have time to dry before the meeting. He might as well start the day clean. There was a good chance he would end it blood-spattered and unclean all the way to his soul.
After eating cold meat and cheese stocked in the magically chilled cupboard in his train car, he stepped into the water closet’s shower and scrubbed until the sweat and memories of the nightmare were gone from his skin. As he washed, he felt the train slowing and stopping at the station, the end of the line for this particular set of tracks.
Once dressed in the silver tunic and trousers he would wear for the meeting, he left his train car and entered the seating car, a train car with benches on either side and long banks of windows giving a view of the river.
There, Sindrel and Weylind were already gathered, talking quietly. Weylind glanced up and met Farrendel’s gaze. “The humans sent word their king is bringing his sister to the diplomatic meeting this morning. We have yet to determine what trick they may be playing with this.”
It had to be a trick. The humans never did anything without an angle for themselves. “Perhaps they wish to lure us into a sense of safety before they attempt an attack.”
Sindrel shook his head, his brown hair sliding across his shoulders. “While humans are known to be treacherous, I do not believe they would bring a princess along if they were planning a physical attack. They have a strange honor code when it comes to their women. They believe women should not physically fight nor witness war. That especially holds true for their royalty.”
Farrendel shook his head. He had known many elven female warriors. He had fought alongside them. Been saved by them. While female warriors were not as common as male warriors, it was not something their society opposed, as it seemed human culture did.
“If this is a trick to lure us into a false sense of safety, the trick will most likely lie in the treaty itself. Perhaps they believe this princess of theirs will be a distraction so that we do not notice some trick of the wording they intend to write into the treaty.” Sindrel tapped his fingers against his leg, as if mentally counting the different Escarlish words he needed to watch for that day. “Though it does seem strange, given the last war, that they would bring their princess along. They must assume there is a likelihood of this meeting ending in battle.”
“Perhaps they believe her presence will prevent us from attacking them.” Weylind crossed his arms. “They plan to stand behind their princess as a shield.”
“That is a possibility.” Sindrel’s face darkened. “Humans usually do not bring their women to battle, but if this human king hates elves enough, he may be willing to risk his sister and attack us anyway, knowing we would be averse to fighting with her present.”
Farrendel’s stomach churned. Fighting the female troll warriors was one thing. They were trained, and they took up weapons in full knowledge of what it could cost. But if this human princess was an innocent who ended up caught in the middle of fighting, that would be something different. He was not sure he could bear it if he lost control of his magic and harmed an innocent.
More blood on his hands. Soaking into his skin. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to scrub his arms yet again. It was never enough. No matter how hard he scraped, he could never wash away the nagging uncleanness of the blood he carried on his hands.
Weylind sighed. “Unless we wish to surrender any hope of a peaceful resolution to this tension, we must attend this diplomatic meeting and face whatever treachery the humans have planned when it comes.”
Farrendel dipped his head in a nod. Right now, they could only hope that whatever the humans wanted, the price would not be too high. They were prepared to give the humans whatever they wished, or very nearly so.
It was a surrender, of sorts. A temporary appeasement. Everyone knew the humans would just come back again and again, demanding even more each time.
But what Tarenhiel needed right now was time. Time enough to defeat the trolls and strengthen that border so that when the time came to stop appeasing the humans and start fighting them, Tarenhiel would be in a position to do so victoriously.
