“I’ve heard. But elf or no elf, I’m going to win this tournament for you. Everyone in the town knows that Lotr’s daughter Lia is the most beautiful girl in Ranneng. No prince is going to put my arrow off its mark!”
Lia picked a flower from one of the beds and started pulling off its petals.
“What are you doing?”
“Fortune-telling. To see if you’re going to win today.”
“That’s nothing but a flower.”
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “I’m so nervous. Let’s not trust a stupid little flower. Lun, Lun, come here!”
“What is it?” Lia’s brother asked in annoyance, looking up from his game.
“Come over here quickly, Djok’s going to show us how he fires his bow.”
The little boy immediately abandoned his game and ran across to them.
“Here’s an apple. You see that statue of a soldier right down at the end of the garden? Put the apple on his spear and run back here.”
“Just a moment,” said Lun, running off to do as his sister asked.
“What are you doing?” the young bowman asked in surprise.
“I made a wish—if you hit that apple, it means you’re going to win the royal tournament.”
“It’s a lot closer than the target at the field will be,” said Djok, shaking his head.
“Oh, please! Do it for me!” Lia begged him.
Djok smiled and nodded. He put on his glove, set the string on his mighty bow, and took an arrow out of the quiver. The flights were purple with gold stripes. Everybody knew what Djok Imargo’s arrows looked like. Lun came running back, leaving the apple behind, a green spot on the end of the statue’s spear.
Djok set his arrow on the string, pulled the string back smoothly, held his breath, and released the string just as gently. It slapped loudly against his glove and the arrow took off with a furious buzz. A second later it split the apple in two and disappeared into the garden.
“Hooray,” Lun cried merrily, jumping up and down.
“Ah, well done!” cried Lia, clapping her hands happily. “You’re going to win that tournament. You’re bound to! Where are you going?”
“To get the arrow.”
“Wait!” She grabbed hold of his hand, stood up on tiptoe, and whispered, “Leave it. I’ll give it back to you later.”
He gave her a look of joyful surprise. Lia smiled, kissed him on the cheek, and cooed: “And now go! We’ll celebrate your victory tonight.”
He was going to say something else to her, but the girl put her finger to his lips, smiled enchantingly once again, and walked to the fountain without looking back. Djok hesitated for a moment and left the garden. It was time for him to prepare for the tournament, and Lia was expecting him to win.
The girl waited for five minutes, then walked down the garden. She pulled up the arrow that was stuck in the ground and examined it carefully.
Excellent. Lun was busy with his little boat, her father was with his friends, nobody would miss her for a while.
She had to get the arrow to a certain person as quickly as possible, and then there would be a reward waiting for her from the Master. She smiled the smile that Djok loved so much.
* * * “What do you make of this town, Eroch?” Endargassa asked.
“A barbarous place, Tresh Endargassa,” the elderly guard riding beside the prince replied deferentially.
Eroch was an elf of the old school, and his attitude toward humans was highly disdainful. Endargassa did not agree with his old friend and k’lissang. The houses of the dark elves had to maintain relations with humans. No matter how strange, uncultured, aggressive, and treacherous people were—they had power, and only their warriors, acting together with the elves, were capable of annihilating the orcs.
And this was why the leaders of the nine dark houses had taken counsel together and decided that the time had come to unite the forces of men and elves into a single army to oppose those who dared to call themselves the Firstborn. This was why the eldest son of the head of the House of the Black Rose had come to Valiostr with a formal missive for the king. This was why Endargassa’s younger brother had been sent on a similar mission to the Border Kingdom.
“You are wrong, Eroch; men hold power, and without them we will never finally deal with our cousins.” This was not the first time that Endargassa had begun this conversation.
“Perhaps they do hold power, Tresh Endargassa, but men are avaricious, cruel, and very dangerous. We will deal with the orcs without their help.”
“Thousands of years of war with the Firstborn prove that this is not true, my friend Eroch. We are equally matched, and nobody can gain the upper hand. The army of men is the force that can alter the course of centuries of war in our favor.”
“Men fight in ranks, they have cavalry, they are not accustomed to fighting in the forest. Or at least, most of them are not.”
“Then we shall have to drive the orcs out of the forest,” Endargassa said with an indifferent shrug.
“Before he sent us on our way, your father should have remembered ‘The Legend of Soft Gold,’” Eroch sighed.
“‘Best defend your own house yourself’?” the prince cited. “Of course, I remember that. But that is only a song. And the events in it never really happened.”
“Of course, Tresh Endargassa, of course. But the legend expresses the wise lesson that one should not trust men. Otherwise, after the orcs they will set about us.”
Endargassa merely grinned. Eroch was certainly no great supporter of an alliance with men.
“Men can be dangerous. And you haven’t even put on your armor!” The bodyguard’s words had a reproachful ring to them.
Endargassa was dressed in a light silk shirt with a black rose embroidered on the chest, and he certainly looked vulnerable among his forty-nine-warrior escort, with their glinting armor of bluish metal.
“If you wish to swelter in a case of iron in this heat—that is your business,” said Endargassa. “And then you are here with me, so what could possibly happen?”
Eroch did not say anything, he just assumed an even more somber expression and glanced around with his yellow eyes at the human crowd that had lined the streets in order to gaze at the honored guests.
“And here is the reception party,” said Endargassa when he saw a group of twenty horsemen clad in heavy armor galloping toward his party.
“Tresh Endargassa, in the name of our glorious King Stalkon of the Broken Heart, I am happy to welcome you and your companions to the capital of Valiostr!” declared a horseman in white and green armor. “I am Count Pelan Gelmi, captain of the royal guard, and I have been instructed to escort you to the royal palace.”
“Very well,” said the elf with a nod. “We will follow you, Milord Gelmi.”
The knight nodded, and they rode on. The horsemen parted the festive crowd, making way for the honored guest. Milord Gelmi reined back his horse and rode alongside the prince.
“As you may have noticed, Tresh Endargassa, today is a holiday in our town, that is why the streets are so full of people.”
“And I thought they had all come out to welcome me,” the elf jested.
