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 Primus Pilum - Part Four - By Mack the Knife

   Revandis guided Verus through the large structure.  It was deceptively
small on the outside, or so it seemed, forming the edge of a hillside.  But
the building ran in wide tiers down the hill, forming dozens of chambers
and large open courtyards.  They would pass elves in ones and twos as they
moved down short corridors, or crossed a balcony.  It was like a maze, but
open, somehow.

   Finally, they came to a large set of double doors, inset with ceramic
plates, which were each shaped as a small bass relief sculpture.  Each
depicted a small scene of elves and men working together, and one, near the
top, showed a man and elf standing side by side in arms.

   The young elven girl looked at the enameled ceramic tiles.  "The Lord
Ambassador is very wise, and quite insightful of men's hearts," she said,
her face once again reflecting a maturity which her youthful appearance
belied.

   Verus nodded and examined the various tiles, taking especial note of the
one with men and elves joining in arms.  "Let us hope he finds my heart not
lacking," he said, smiling down at her.

   The doors swung ponderously open, they were obviously quite heavy, by
their thickness alone, even if not inset with massive slabs of tile work.
In silence, they swung away, though, and admitted the pair into a darkened
chamber, where the only visible light was the far end.  A long table was
there, spanning most of the width of the room.

   The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood.  Verus assumed it was
arnthalon, for few other woods were nearly black.  It made the great
chamber seem small and stifling, forcing a person entering the room to
focus upon that single illuminated table.

   An elderly elf was sitting in the middle of the table.  Verus had never
seen an elf who was outwardly old.  This wizened figure must be ancient,
indeed.  To either side of the smaller shape, but larger aura, were six
figures.  Seven were older men, like Verus himself.  Two were aged women,
though stern of face, just as the men, and advanced of years.  One younger
woman, in her early forties, and two more men, also younger than the rest.

   Ghurian was one of the older rangers there, sitting directly to the
right of the ancient Lord Ambassador.  Verus also saw Rethas standing just
behind Levathan, and a bit right, between the ambassador and Ghurian.  The
others he did not recognize, though he knew them instantly, or their sort.

   Most of them were competent-looking officers, both the men and women. 
Thought he Abian legions did not allow females in their ranks, Verus was
not a supporter of that policy, thinking that many women made fine
warriors. He had faced enough on the field to have learned to respect
female soldiers.  The younger female officer, though, especially interested
him.  She was pretty, in a very stern sort of way, and her expression was
far less hostile than most of the other's.  She sat to Ghurian's right, and
the old Centurion wondered if there was significance to that.

   Revandis guided him into the chamber at a slow walk, letting him have
time to size up his interrogators.  Her little hand squeezed his as she
held it, and she smiled up at him when he flicked his eyes down at her.

   The ambassador spoke a word in elven and Revandis stopped.  It is a
formal greeting, she explained in his mind.

   The elven girl then bowed, repeating the word and extended one leg.  Her
torso pressed to that leg, nearly folding her double.  A simple normal
human bow will suffice, she said into Verus' mind as his old body balked at
trying to emulate that rather limber motion.

   Verus bowed as low as his old bones would tolerate without creating a
chorus of pops and snaps that would have been comical, but not quite
appropriate for the solemnity of the event.  He noted that there were
twenty guards lining the darkened walls of the room, hugging the shadows,
trying to be unobtrusive.  Ten men and ten elves, near as he could tell
from their heights.  All were armed heavily, with spear, sword, and bow. 
These were no mere ceremonial guards.

   If nothing else, they took Verus very seriously, as a possible threat,
in any case.  He supposed, given his reputation, he could not blame them.
It was interesting, he thought for a moment, that despite his rather
mediocre skills in personal combat, he was always assumed to be a master.

   The ambassador rose from his ornate oaken chair and put both his hands
upon the table before him, which was strewn with papers and a few books. 
"Primus Pilum Verus, you come before us applying for asylum?"

   "I no longer use that title, Lord Ambassador, but yes, I seek asylum
from the Abian Empire, for myself, my family, and a friend," said the old
Abian.

   There was a murmur among the officers, as they whispered curt words to
one another.  A few of the faces grew less stern, having now heard him
speak.  A few others, however, grew more suspicious of him, their eyes
narrowing slightly.

   "Do you intend to serve the people and needs of the Windy Isles, the
nation that may offer such asylum?" asked Levathan.

   Verus nodded, "I intend to do so, to the limits of my abilities," he
said.

   Another rumble of quick murmurs ran through the members of the High
Command.  Most of the faces had softened somewhat, excepting one.  The man
to the ambassador's immediate left.  His face had now reddened, and Verus
could tell he was chomping at the bit to loose his wroth upon Verus.

   Revandis spoke again in his mind: That is commander Melakis, he is
generally regarded as something of a firebrand among the High Command.  He
will seek to have you put to death.

   Is his hate that consuming?  Asked Verus in thought.

   He felt the girl squeeze his hand slightly.  His wife was transported as
a slave to Abia.  When scouts found her, she had been forced into a
slave-brothel for over six months.  The girls eyes were moist looking as
she thought these words to Verus.  She slew herself as soon as they freed
her and got her on a ship for the Isles.

   Rather than face her husband, thought Verus, his own eyes saddening, for
the sake of the woman, and the husband that was wronged twice by her
misuse.

   "We, naturally, have a few questions, Verus, regarding this change of
heart," said the ambassador, speaking carefully and referring to notes upon
the table.  "Will you answer them fully, and without equivocation?"

   Verus nodded again, "I will," he replied.

   "All indications are that you are a man of high honor, and your word is
good," said Levathan.  "I will take your word as fact, but some among us
may protest that.  Do you object to the continued use of the mental
abilities of Revandis to maintain proof of your Veracity?"

   "I don't mind," said Verus.  "She's good company." He smiled down at the
pretty elven girl standing beside him, with her tiny hand in his.

   A small round of light chuckles and quite a few smiles moved through the
assembled commanders.  The face of Melakis reddened slightly more, and
Verus realized he would be unable to sway this man, despite any action or
word he might take.  Blind hatred was now this man's bed partner, and he
would brook no other lover.

   One of the commanders to Ghurian's right stood up.  "Why did you take
command of the company in Rikken and lead them in a victorious battle
against your own people?" he asked.

   "They ceased being `my' people when they leveraged my own grandchildren
to force me, illegally, into performing the mission I was sent her upon,"
said Verus.  "As far as why: I do not wish to die any more than anyone
else, and leading the unit was the surest way I could see to continue not
dying." A low murmur ran through them again, with many nods dispersed in
the conversation.

   Melakis rose and looked at Verus with hateful eyes.  "You say you were
there to aid them in a battle, by commanding them and guiding them," said
the old officer.  "What would you say to the fact that Rikken was overrun
by Abian forces, not ten hours ago?"

   "I would say, Commander Melakis, that it is a tragedy, and I hope as
many as possible escaped and are on their way to safety," said Verus. 
Something in his mind had changed, and it took Verus a long moment to
figure out what it was.  Even when Revandis was passive, he cought random
little flickers of thought from her.  She was now trying to mask something
from him, and those little thoughts were being obliterated by both the
strength of the thought and her attempt at masking it.  Then the
realization hit him.

   Oh, dear lord, your parents, thought Verus, his mind racing.  He looked
down at Revandis, with her lovely golden eyes filling with tears.  She
stared directly ahead of herself, her face now a mask of worry and pain.

   "I regret to say," said Melakis, with far to little remorse in his
voice, and far too much relish, "that few escaped.  It seems that they
found a weak point in the defenses and exploited it before an effective
response could be organized.  We only got word of the city falling by
courier, we have no subsequent reports, yet."

   Verus thought furiously for something else to think about, but his mind
kept wandering to Revandis' parents, though he had never met them.  Tears
were streaming down the young elf's face, though she stood stoically by his
side.

   "I believe you might have been more circumspect in the revelation of
that information," said the younger female officer, sitting next to
Ghurian. She leaned forward and cast her eyes toward Melakis.  "You know,
as well as the rest of us, that Revandis' parents are in Rikken."

   Melakis looked a tiny bit taken aback by her words, but soon his
hostility reasserted itself.  "You will excuse me if I forget a girl's
emotions for a moment when faced with deceit," he said.

   There was another round of the murmuring that seemed to form the
consensus under which the command of the Windy Islanders operated.  Verus
was frankly amazed that they held the nation together, ruling by committee,
much less mounted a defense that was tying up three entire legions.  A
smile cracked on Revandis' face as this thought went through his head and
she read it.  Even we elves understand that only one can lead in time of
war, she thought in reply, and we are a strategically inept folk, when
compared with you humans.

   "Melakis is correct," said another of the commanders, one of the younger
males.  "How do we know that Verus did not gather information and betray us
to the Abians after the supposed victory?"

   Revandis stepped forward, dropping Verus' hand and standing before the
long table.  "Because I have told you that he did not, because I vouch for
his honesty," she said.  "I, more than anyone in this chamber, would turn
on him, in an instant, if I even suspected that he did such a thing." She
looked down the long line of officers, her golden eyes lingering on each a
brief moment.  "Of anyone in this room, I am the most aggrieved party, and
the one most deserving of justice."

   The elven commander had been preparing to silence the girl with a word,
but the Lord Ambassador stayed him with a slight motion of his hand,
raising two fingers.  "Your little committee of twelve is fine and
democratic, and we elves toyed with such a thing in the past," she said,
her soprano voice gaining power as her confidence in her words and their
hearing of them grew.  "Democracy is a poor bedfellow for war.  War calls
for harsh choices and clear decisions." She turned those frightfully
intelligent eyes upon Commander Melakis.  "Vengeance is also a unseemly
mate, is she not?" she asked, rhetorically.  "Do we always seek one-for-one
redress of each loss in battle?" The faces of the various commanders were
moving through mixed emotional and thoughtful states as the girl spoke.

   "If you wish to kill Verus, then get on with it, charge him with spying
and be done," she said.  "If not, then utilize his talents and win a war
for yourselves." She held up a small hand to the audience of fourteen. 
"But with this man, I fear you will not have your sought-after victories by
half measures.  He does not partake of half measures.  Some of the wine he
offers will be bitter, indeed, and some among you may not have a stomach
for such fare."

   Revandis walked up to Verus and once again put her tiny hand into his.
"I say I trust him, and I say that anyone who does not is either blind or a
fool.  If the former, then open your eyes to the truth.  If the latter,
then step aside and let the wise make decisions."

   Melakis' eyes widened, and a deep crimson rose into his face.  However,
whatever rant he seemed about to rain down upon Verus and Revandis was cut
short by the words of the Lord Ambassador.

   "I am but an advisor," he said.  This was technically true, Verus
thought, but patently a lie, "and I say we have much, now to discuss about
this resource we find in our possession." He held out a wrinkled, slender
hand.  "You have the list I asked for, of your family members?"

   Verus stepped forward and handed the folded parchment to the old elf. 
The elf took it and peered at the long list of names.  "Revandis'
penmanship is quite good, don't you think?" he asked with a gleam in his
eyes.

   "She is a wonder, Lord Ambassador," replied verus, meaning it fully.  He
and the ambassador understood one another, even if no one else did.

   There was much talk around the table, and several of the commanders were
rising to walk to others and speak quietly.  "We have much to debate, I
think, Verus," said Levathan.  The old elf turned to Revandis.  "Please
show him to his quarters and then go to your own, dear, this has been a day
of sore trials for all."

   Revandis nodded.  "Yes, Lord Ambassador," she said.  She then guided
Verus out of the chamber, and the massive doors cut off the rising level of
the debate within.  They would be long hours discussing this matter, he
felt sure.

   They walked out onto one of the balconies that overlooked the other
terraces of the strange, step-like building.  "That was impressive, what
you did in there," said Verus.

   The girl smiled out into the open air.  "Not very, really," she said,
then turned her eyes toward his.  "I cheated."

   Verus thought for a moment.  "How can you cheat in such a thing?" he
asked.

   A smile played on her lips, and a blush rose to her cheeks.  The glanced
up at him, then turned her eyes away.  "I used some skills of yours to make
the speech.  In a way, I made you think of what I needed to say, then used
your ability to command to say it."

   "And you did so without me being able to tell you were doing it?" asked
Verus, impressed immensely.

   She shrugged.  "It is not difficult, you, yourself often separate parts
of your mind to clear your thoughts of extraneous things, or to shield off
a part of thoughts while other parts continue," explained Revandis.  "I
simply utilized the mechanisms that were already there to do what I thought
needed to be done."

   He squeezed her little hand gently.  "You did very well," said Verus. 
"You are an amazingly clever little girl - young woman," he amended.

   She flashed a brilliant smile up at him.  I WISH I were a woman, the
deeper-voiced version of her thoughts said into his mind.  A brief flash of
skin on skin went through his skull, only to be blasted apart by Revandis'
other thoughts, as she fought to regain control of herself.

   Verus pulled his hand gently away from hers and stepped back a pace. 
"Perhaps it's time to sever this link," he suggested.  "At least for now."

   She nodded miserably.  "I think it best as well," she said.  "Can we
walk to the main compound first, though?  I can control my thoughts so
long."

   He nodded and she once again took his hand.  They walked through the
complicated building, rising a flight of stairs here, and crossing an open
catwalk there.  Finally, though, they reached the main compound, and were
walking across the main courtyard, near her bush, in fact.  He could smell
the cloying scent of the plant as they walked toward it.

   Verus noted an increase, or change in Revandis' scent as well, it mixed
with the bush's, creating a new, subtle odor.  The Niliwander ambassador
had chosen a complimentary scent well.  He felt a momentary twinge of
something feral move through him, something which must not be given in to,
but which was undeniably there.  Then it was gone.

   Revandis smiled up at him.  That will suffice me, she thought into his
head.  Then he felt her moving out, long tendrils of her thoughts and
senses pulled from around his, and she slipped out of his mind like a
breeze.  As his mind expanded to fill the void she left, he felt a stark
sense of loneliness in his own mind, a new experience for him.

   She continued to hold his hand, and they walked past the bush, then
toward a door.  "This is your chamber, Verus," she said, her eyes glinting
in the failing light of the late afternoon.  "I will see you on the
morrow?" she asked.

   "I often break fast at dawn," said Verus.  "Assuming I can find the
dining hall."

   She smiled.  "I, too, rise early.  I will collect you and be your guide
for the morning meal," she said.  The amazing formality of her speech
struck him, but she still had that gleam in her young eyes.  He now
wondered immensely what thoughts were buried there, under that molten gold.

   She turned and walked away from him, then around the corner of the
stone-covered building.  He entered his chamber, and sat upon the chair,
where Ghurian had sat before, sharpening his sword.

   A weariness descended upon him and he felt his many years deeply.  He
had not realized how much his mood had been buoyed by the contact with the
young girl.  He now understood better many men's desires to take a younger
woman as a lover.  They were seeking that support, though the only means
their minds could divine.

   - - - - - - - - -

   A gentle knock from his door in the morning, as he slipped on his tunic.
Revandis' gentle voice came through the wood.  "Good morrow, Verus," she
said.

   He smiled and rose from the chair, and opened the door for her.  She
stepped in, smiling, and carrying his gear, which he had worn from
Pigwillow.  "They trust me with a sword?" he asked.

   "They trust it will avail you not to try to use it," she said, grinning.
"Most of them trust you, insofar as they can," she said.  "Your former
reputation as an honorable man has served you well."

   Verus nodded.  "I hoped it would help at some point to not be a
scoundrel," he murmured.  "Scoundrelling seems much more fun than being
circumspect."

   She giggled at him.  "Scoundrelling?" she asked.  "Is that truly a
word?"

   Putting on his boots, and only strapping on the sword, Verus shook his
head.  "Not really, no," he said.  "But it's a true occupation, by some
folk," he added.

   Revandis nodded.  "I see," she said, as she held open the door.  "Let us
go break fast, I am hungry."

   They did not hold hands this time as they crossed the yard, and Verus
was slightly disappointed by this.  As they walked near the plant, he noted
the scent again, and even the mixture of the plant and Revandis.  It did
not repeat its odd effect on him again.

   There were quite a few elves in the dining hall, this morning, and not a
few humans among them.  Taking up several fruits, a few biscuits, and a
boiled egg.  They found a recently-vacated table and took seats.  Almost
immediately, Revandis was inflicting grievous damage upon the foodstuffs
upon her platter, an activity that raised several nearby eyebrows, and not
a few corners of mouths, as well.

   Verus ate more reservedly, wondering what this day would bring, by way
of news, and decisions by folk both important and trivial.

   "Refugees from Rikken are arriving," Revandis said quietly, her eyes
down upon her platter of food.  She was eating slowly, something Verus knew
surely foretold of ill.  "No one bears word of my mother or father."

   Verus sighed.  "You fear for them?" he said.

   The elven girl nodded.  "Greatly, Verus, they are not soldiers, though
all elves know the rudiments of fighting." She looked out the open archway
onto the lawn of the courtyard.  "They should not have been so close to the
front lines of the war."

   Verus nodded at that, thinking it as she said it.  "War is no place for
gentle hearts."

   She giggled at that.  "My mother and father are that, for certain," she
said.  "Though my mother can be quite sturdy when called for.  She has
headed our clan for almost eighty years."

   "I wish I knew them," said Verus, honestly.  "To have reared you, they
must have been fine folk."

   She smiled again.  "Are you certain there is no elven blood in you.  You
speak very cleverly, complimenting them and me in one turn of the phrase."

   An aide walked up to Revandis, speaking quietly.  Her face took on a
look of shock, then she rose.  "News of my mother," she said, following the
aide out the door and into the courtyard.  Verus trailed after her, worry
lining his aged face.

   There was a tight knot of elven folk gathered around one who was
speaking, he was bloody and muddied, obviously fresh from action in combat.
A horse, in much the same state, stood nearby, its coat covered in the
froth of sweat and breathing heavily.

   He was speaking rapidly in elven and Revandis stood near enough to hear.
Automatically, her small hand went out and took Verus' again.  She began
translating for him, rather in a dead and unfeeling tone of voice.

   "He was with the rear guard, trying to get as many of the civilians out
as they could," she said.  "The Abians beset them in sudden attack. 
Streaming in from the west, where the woods came closest to the Pallisades.
By the time an effective defense could be mounted, the gates were
breaking."

   Her face was a mask of non-emotion as she spoke.  "Hundreds were slain
out of hand.  Any who raised a weapon against the Legionnaires.  Those who
tried to surrender were taken captive and hauled off." The soldier looked
about, seeming to seek for someone.

   His eyes fell on the young elven girl.  "Revandis," he said simply.  She
let go Verus' hand and walked toward him.  The press of elves and men
parting effortlessly for her movement.  She walked right up to the wounded
warrior and looked up at his beautiful, haggard face.  He knelt before her
and held up a small sword.  Her eyes widened, and tears burst from them. 
Many of the other elves wept as well, several even more than the young girl
being presented her mother's hyandai.

   Verus felt tears stinging his cheeks and knew well what this all meant.
Her mother, at the least, was dead.  She asked the soldier something, in
what seemed a rather calm tone, for one in grief.

   He nodded and dug into a belt pouch, producing a very plain-looking
silver bracer.  She took it and put it in her own purse, bowing to the
warrior.  She then turned, her face stony and her back very straight, and
walked from the circle of people.

   Every eye watched her until she walked up to Verus and took possession
of his hand again.  "Please, I must walk," she said.

   Verus immediately set off toward the farthest corner of the elven
enclave, with Revandis walking beside him.  She was clutching the weapon to
her chest and tears streamed freely down her smooth cheeks.  They arrived
at the outer wall and she stopped.  Strapping on the sword belt, she stood
and looked to the north.  "Can you stop them?" she asked.

   "I don't know, Rivandis," he said, truthfully.  "I can beat them in
individual battles.  I am, after all, one man."

   She nodded.  "Will you truly try, for the sake of people who may well
never fully trust you?"

   "Yes," said Verus.  "And for you."

   The girl turned toward him with those frightful, gleaming eyes.  "I ask
it of you.  Drive these invaders from the Windy Isles before you, and
destroy those who have violated your `rules of warfare'," she said.

   Verus smiled and said, "I will do my best, milady."

   She grinned at him.  "I am not the lady of the clan, that will be my
sister," she said.

   They joined hands again and walked for another hour, speaking little.

   At nearly midday, Verus caught sight of Ghurian moving toward him with
his cloak streaming behind him, very nearly running.  Behind Ghurian was
the younger female commander.

   "They have decided to use you, despite Melakis' objections," said
Ghurian as he neared.  "We must move quickly before their combined wills
fail them."

   "Quickly to what?" asked Verus.

   "We go to the northern port of Hemdan Bay, and collect the forces we
have gathered there," said the old commander.  "We must strike and win a
quick victory, else the council seeks to sue for conditions of surrender."

   Verus blinked a moment.  "And my status?" he asked.

   "You are a commander now," said Ghurian, holding out a silver pin,
perhaps even the same one that he had worn before.  "For all intents and
purposes, however, the men cannot know your origins, and we will not speak
of them.  At least for now."

   Verus nodded.  The woman stepped forward and bowed her head in a form of
the elven greeting.  "I'm Commander Undria," she said.  "I am your third."

   "A commander is my third?  Then who is my second?" asked Verus, blinking
at the tall, strong-looking woman.

   "I am," said Ghurian, "At least for all intents."

   "Why do you put yourselves subordinate to me?" asked the old Centurion,
extremely alarmed by all this.

   Undria said, "The men may question your orders, if you were simply
another commander.  We cannot afford that, so we have made you, at least
between Ghurian and myself, our superior.  Consider it a `time in grade'
promotion, for you have been a leader of men far longer than we." She gave
forth an uncomfortable giggle.  "Up until two years ago, I was the mayor of
a small fishing village."

   Ghurian nodded and put his hand on the woman's shoulder.  "She's right,
we can't have the men thinking somehow you might be just another commander.
I'm no natural leader, myself.  I was just a foreman of a logging camp
before this all started."

   Rivandis' hand squeezed Verus as he thought on this and he met her smile
for him.  "I will go tend to my grief, Commander Verus," she said.  "I must
find my sister and brother and tell them what has befallen."

   He appreciated the contrived excuse to let him engage fully with the two
commanders.  "I will speak to you later, Rivandis."

   She nodded and headed toward the central building of the compound.

   Another elf was proceeding toward them, moving briskly with flowing
robes flying behind him.  "Your elven advisor," said Undria, "his name is
Vendithan."

   Vendithan bowed low as he stepped within three paces, "Commander Verus,
the Lord Ambassador has assigned me to be your advisor, as per the
agreements of the Windy Isles and Windir," he said formally.  His Syrisian
was marked with a very heavy clipped accent.  This elf has spoken the
language little outside of his studies of it.

   He rose from the bow.  "I understand that your tactical and strategic
knowledge are without peer, so my advisory role will be purely ceremonial,
I assure you," he said.  Vendithan was a slender elf, even for that slender
race.

   Ghurian coughed.  "He's more of a bodyguard, actually," he said, rather
quietly.

   The elf regarded him with silvern eyes.  "Yes, Commander Verus, I am
mainly attending to ensure your safety."

   "Oh?" asked Verus, still rather taken aback at the pace of events.

   Undria leaned close to Verus' ear.  "Vendithan is a wizard," she said,
"a damn fine one, from what we've seen."

   Vendithan smiled slightly, and rather lop-sidedly.  "Thank you for your
kind words, Commander Undria.  Yes, there are those who consider my skills
to be of use on the occassion."

   The afternoon passed in a whirl of activity, at least to Verus' eyes. 
Within three hours, they were forming a company, made up of Windy Island
Ranger and even half of the Elven High Guard, under the ambassador's
control.  To add to Verus' perceived stature, the elven commander, Rethas,
would also be going.  Again, reporting to Verus.  They were to set out at
nightfall, so that any Abian spies or scouts would not be able to easily
guess their numbers.

   Once all was redied, and the troops were allowed to rest before the
march, Verus sought out Rivandis.

   He found her sitting on the bench they had occupied before, regarding
her bush.  He walked up to her, noting she still wore the sword.  "Will you
forever go about armed?" he asked her.

   She smiled as he approached, then looked down at the hyandai on her hip.
"Until I am home in Embalis, yes," she said simply.

   "Do you know how to use it?" he asked, sitting beside her and smelling
the heady combination of her and the bush.

   Rivandis drew the weapon from its ornate sheath.  "I know the basics, as
most elves learn," she said.  "And my father taught me a few tricks in its
subtler uses."

   The old soldier nodded.  "Never draw it in a fight unless you mean to
kill," he said.

   She smiled at him.  "Thank you," said Rivandis.

   "It wasn't that good of advice," said Verus.

   "Not for that, silly human," she said, grinning at him, "but for helping
us."

   "Oh, that?" he said, "Bah, it's what old soldiers do." He looked toward
the bush.  "We do what needs doing."

   She looked at him with those powerful golden eyes.  "No, old soldiers
are supposed to sit at their farmstead and watch their grandchildren grow
up," she said.  "Or so it seemed you thought was your lot before."
Rivandis' eyes took on an added gleam.  "Heroes come forth to aid those in
need."

   Without warning, she turned and hugged him, squeezing him as tightly as
her slender arms would permit.  As Rivandis let him loose, he looked to
her. "What was that for?"

   She stood up and stared toward the setting sun and the red clouds about
it.  "That was for avenging my mother," she said in a cool voice.

   "I thought it was not about vengeance?" asked Verus.

   Rivandis' eyes were bronze in the setting sun.  "I used to think that,
as well."

   Vendithan was approaching from across the clearing.  "It is time," said
Verus.  "I will see you in a few weeks, perhaps."

   The elven girl nodded.  "Sprits be with you in victory," she said.

   - - - - - - - - -

   Pigwillow was the nearest port to Rondall, but Hemdan Bay was a close
second, only it was not nearly as good a port.  It was craggy cliffs with
only a narrow inlet to a small bay with equally sheer sides.  It would not
be a port at all, were it not for extensive use of floating docks.  Even
the buildings of the port were on boat hulls.  Only one small trail led
from the upland down into the bay itself.

   The trip took two days, and they arrived at nightfall of the second.  It
had rained most of the trip, but the broken seashells that the Windy
Islanders used for paving seemed to hold up well enough, only becoming
slightly muddy with the passage of the small army of five hundreds.

   They crested the cliff and began their descent on the steep path. 
Horses had to be led down it, and men could only walk two abreast.  Below,
in the dark pit of the bay, Verus saw many lights.  It seemed that the bay
was filled with stars.

   As they closed on the bottom, some of the clusters of stars resolved
themselves into the shapes of elven trimarans and galleons of various
sizes. It seemed an impressive fleet, if not a great one.

   He slept that night on board one of the trimarans.  Verus was again
impressed with the relative comfort aboard the roomy elven ships.  At dawn,
Vendithan woke him with a soft rap upon his quarters' door.

   They walked out onto the deck of the Amathvannin.  Immediately, Verus'
eye was drawn to the other trimaran, moored beside their ship.  "That boat
looks familiar," he said to Vendithan.

   His advisor looked at it for a long moment.  "That is the Rethallin, he
said.  "She is the sister ship to the one you captured for the Abians, the
Amthallin.

   "Sister ship?" asked Verus.

   "Most trimarans are build at our port in Er'latha," explained Vendithan.
"However, the Rethallin and Amthallin were built in Ren'thua.  The engineer
was a bit off an odd character, and demanded they be built simultaneously.
They are fine ships, though not as large as the Amathvannin.

   Verus knew that they intended to try to take, at the least, Pigwillow,
by sea.  He agreed with that plan.  However, he was about to change things
slightly.  "I want that as my flag," he said.

   "Commander?" asked Vendithan, his expression curious.

   "I am to command this expedition, yes?" asked Verus.

   The wizard nodded.  "Yes, of course," he said.

   "Then I want the Rethallin as my flagship."

   "Yes, commander, it will be arranged," said Vendithan, signaling toward
an elven crewman.

   - - - - - - - - - -

   "You want us to prowl about and try to catch the Amthallin?" asked
Ghurian, sounding incredulous.

   Verus nodded.  "Yes," he said, "we cannot afford her to come upon us in
the bay while we try to take the town.  You need not engage her in earnest,
only keep her from gaining the bay, or retreating back to Abia.  Her crew
is still probably learning her ways, and will not wish to directly engage a
fully crewed trimaran."

   Ghurian nodded.  "I don't like splitting up the forces we've worked so
hard to gather," he said.

   "You said you trusted my judgement, if that is not so, then relieve me
of my command and be done with it," Verus said, cooly.

   "No, Verus, I don't question you, sorry," said Ghurian.  "I never knew
you were so temperamental."

   The old Abian chuckled.  "I'm a mean bastard of a commander," he said.
"You may well regret promoting me over your head." He took a pull from the
elven wine which the captain of the Rethallin had mercifully provided them.
"Look on the brighter side, at least I'm giving you the larger ship."

   Commander Ghurian laughed.  "And knowing you, the reason for that will
not be apparent until well after the battle," he said.

   Undria entered the cabin, smiling.  "The men were annoyed, but they
finally figured out how to billit all four hundreds on the Rethallin."

   "Thank you commander," said Verus.

   "All these ships, and you want only the Rethallin for the actual
attack?" asked Ghurian again.

   "The rest will be prowling along with you for the Amthallin, she must be
tied up at sea, and taken down if possible," said Verus, with a very
obvious tone of finality.  "We sail in an hour."

   The other two commanders got up and they all made a quick toast, filling
wooden cups with the sweet elven wine.

   Verus held up his cup, smiling at the two commanders.  "We go to war, a
thing I have avoided for many long years.  Come hell or glory, I will put
an end to this," he said.

   The clunked the cups together and drank their wine.  Ghurian tromped
across the gangplank to the Amathvannin, which was pulled in as soon as he
was aboard.  Verus turned to Undria, "Ready?" he asked.

   "No," she replied, "but that never stopped me before."

   The ships began leaving the port.  The smaller galleons first, over a
dozen of them.  They slipped out the narrow channel to the sea and hugged
the coastline east.  The Amathvannin launched next, her massive sails
filling with wind and she veritably flew out of the bay, her width so great
that barely ten paces were spared to either side as she went through the
narrows.

   Verus was, as always, impressed with the skill of the elven sailors and
pilots of the vessels.  They soon had the Rethallin moving toward the
opening to the sea, by the time they shot past the high cliff sides, the
rocks were a blur to either side.  Banking, the ship turned east to follow
the rest of the fleet around the island.

   It felt good to be doing something.  It felt even better to be doing
something Verus-like.

   He quietly stood beside the pilot, watching the elf turn the mighty
wheel that steered the trimaran's rudders.  He had studied the ships
somewhat now, and knew of the many control surfaces beneath the water that
gave the trimarans what maneuverability they had.  The most impressive
feature, he thought, was their ability to brake quickly.  A trimaran could
be moving at full sail, and stop in the water in a few hundreds of feet.

   For five hours, they followed the coastline of the jungle island.  The
galleons now far behind the two elven ships.  They would catch up
eventually, and their role in this was to form a picket, anyway, and try to
ensure that the Amthallin was sighted and intercepted.  They were not to
actually engage, unless they happened upon Abian galleons.

   The ship was crowded.  Trimarans typically only carried three hundreds
of souls.  The Rethallin was carrying four hundred troops and her normal
crew of almost a hundred and fifty.  Tempers would grow short, but it was
unavoidable.  Verus had a plan to put an end to this war quickly.  More
quickly than any suspected.

   He called for the ship's navigator.  A young elf with bright eyes and a
quick wit.  "I need you to plot a course for me," said Verus as the young
elf entered his cabin.

   The elf blinked a few times, then said, "It is a simple coastal trip,
commander, would not my abilities be better served, as a magician, in
tending to the troops?"

   "The itinerary just changed," said Verus.  "Bring your maps."

   - - - - - - - - -

   "The scouts say that there was an elven male among the prisoners," said
the aide to the Lord Ambassador.  "We believe it to be Emorianel, of clan
Yavanaur."

   Levathan looked at the document before him.  "It would be him," he said.
"No others would have withstood capture and the enslavement that capture
would mean."

   The aide asked, "How does that follow?"

   "The reports for Rennik say that Emorianel saw Morlani die.  He would
not wish to leave his children orphaned," the ambassador said.  "That is
why we normally do not allow parents to go to dangerous areas together. 
However, the war has grown desperate indeed, and such may be the new
tidings from this conflict."

   The aide nodded, seeing the good sense in such a policy and the
unfortunate needs of war.  "What of Rivandis?" she asked.

   "We will send her back to her siblings and other family in Windir as
soon as we know the waters are safe," said Levathan.  "This news should be
broken by someone who knows her well."

   The aide bowed and left the chamber.  Sadly, for the old elf, he was the
only one about now that knew Rivandis more than casually.  He gave a mighty
sigh and stood up, and went to find where she might be.

   After asking about, he found her at the training ground.  She had been
insistent, despite the trainers telling her that her skills were adequate
for her age, that she learn more.

   They humored her as best they could, sparring with her and even teaching
her optional skills that complimented swordplay.  Levathan watched her
sparring with one of the instructors for a short while, until they were
finished.  The trainer came to him as Revandis went toward the storeroom to
replace the training weapons.

   "How does she fare?" asked the old ambassador.

   "The Hyandai is a good student, she is simply too young and small to
learn more advanced forms," said the weapon master.

   "The Hyandai?" asked the ambassador.

   A weak smile came to the trainer's face.  "The rangers have taken note
of her being the only armed child in the elven compound," he said.  "They
started calling her that when they learned of the sword's name."

   The ambassador grinned.  "I hope such nicknames do not catch on, I would
hate to think of the poor girl going through her life called Hyandai."

   "I am certain it will pass, milord," said the instructor, and bowed as
Rivandis approached them, then moved away.

   "Well, I hear you have a new name," said the Lord Ambassador as she
walked up, smiling at him.  He could still see the hint of sadness in her
eyes, though, and dearly wished he was not about to add to her worries.

   Rivandis nodded.  "The humans are calling me the Hyandai," she said. 
"They give everyone nicknames, did you know that?"

   Levathan nodded.  "Have they told you what they call me?"

   A deep crimson came to the girl's cheeks.  "I should not repeat the one
I have heard," she said.

   "Old Woodenarse is not such a bad name, I think," said the ambassador,
chuckling.  "Near as I can tell, the more they like you, the more base the
nickname they append to you."

   The Hyandai nodded soberly.  "They must respect you greatly, then," she
said.

   The ambassador chuckled for a moment, then his face grew serious.  "It
is my father, is it not?" asked the Hyandai.

   "Sometimes being very perceptive is not a blessing, Revandis," said
Levathan.  "Yes, we have news of your father, he lives."

   She looked at him oddly, "That is good." She did not, however, smile or
show pleasure in any other way.  "But there is something less good, else
your mood would be fairer."

   Levathan said, "Your father is made captive by the Abians.  He is surely
on ship to their lands, even now."

   "But elves do not allow themselves to be enslaved, or so I have been
told," said Revandis.

   "Such is true for most elven folk.  But your father is a man of great
will," said the old ambassador.  "He will abide, so that you and your
siblings are not without both parents, even if the one is a slave."

   Tears marked cheeks and she looked disbelieving.  "Such is worse than
death," said Revandis.

   "So many say," said Levathan, "but it may well be less final.  We will
attempt to ransom or recapture him from them, as soon as his whereabouts
are known."

   The Hyandai nodded.  "I understand, I will await his return, then," she
said.

   "No," said the old elf.  "You are going home.  A trimaran will be in
Hemdan Bay in two days, and you will take ship to Windir.  All elven folk,
not critical to the war, are to go in the next week.  We fear this war may
be lost, and we cannot afford to have more captives made than necessary. 
Especially young women."

   She had heard vague tales of what happened to women humans made captive,
and elven women would be doubly cursed.  Having to endure the agonies of
slavery for thrice the lifespan of a human.  "What of the Islanders?" she
asked.

   "We will evacuate as many as we can, of course, and bring them to
Windir," he said.  "Our homeland may soon be something else than we
remember.  Even a fraction of their numbers will leave us a minority in our
own lands."

   The idea of humans in Windir did not bother her as it seemed to many
older elves.  Perhaps it was simply her youth and naivety.

   "I hope Verus wins," said the Hyandai, looking at her weapon-namesake.
"We cannot abide loss."

   The old elf patted her back.  "This is the truth," he said.  "Pack your
belongings, and be ready to leave come nightfall."