A Plague of Prayers

By Max Lake Wisdom

A darkness thought long forgotten breathes again.

Edralan, an Iltari Queen's Guard, and Rinkana, the prisoner he helped escape, are in over their heads when they embark on a quest to find Edralan's missing brother. When a deathly knight wielding a cursed blade shows up before their journey even begins, they set

• Language: English
• Publisher: Max Lake Wisdom
• Release date: Sep 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798988870401

Book preview

PROLOGUE

RINKANA’S HEART THROBBED in his chest as he squeezed the arms of the wooden chair where he sat, slouched in the darkness–a hood hiding his face. A bed stretched out along his left, with another to his right. Two elves, Garren and Darinal, both fair skinned and dark-haired, lay sleeping in them. Moonlight reaching in from an open window did nothing but enrich the rage building inside him. They did not deserve such peaceful sleep.

The elves’ appearance contrasted Rinkana’s charcoal colored skin and stark white hair. His black leather clothing and matching cloak blended into the darkness, leaving him close to his marks, but hidden among the shadows of the circular room. One of the elves rolled over and Rinkana’s maroon eyes darted over to him. His sharp nose flared at the thought of his moment finally coming. But the elf still slept.

Letting his impatience get the better of him, Rinkana rose to his feet, walking to the window to take a quick survey of the elven city, Volinar, and assessed his escape plan once more. Tree houses, some carved into wide trunks while others hung from branches, mirrored the one he found himself in. The silhouette of a tower taller than even the massive trees blacked out the night sky.

A shift in the beds behind Rinkana alerted him, and he knew one of the elves had awoken before he even confirmed it with his eyes. He snatched one of his bladed tonfas from its sheath on his calve and sprung at the threat, landing on top of the elf he identified as Darinal. Before the elf could scream, Rinkana restrained him with one hand over his mouth and the other holding the blade to his neck.

Quiet, Rinkana whispered. His eyes met the elf’s widened gaze and the struggling body beneath him froze with tension.

For decades, Rinkana relished these moments. Every time they came, he felt the rush building in his chest reach its peak. He hated them, murderers and those alike. These ones just wore the faces of Ellenwood Elves. These ones preyed on children.

Rinkana dragged his blade down Darinal’s bare body and drove it into his ribs. The elf gasped for air, following it up with a shriek of horror.

What in– the other elf rose from his bed, but Rinkana found his other tonfa and threw it like a dart, sinking it into Garren’s pelvis before he could finish his words. Another shriek pierced the darkness as he fell from the bed to the floor. A clock started counting down in Rinkana’s head. He was not foolish enough to think someone didn’t hear their woes of pain.

Jolrain, Rinkana said, his rough voice reaching full volume.

He grabbed Darinal by the neck, neglecting to release the blade from its sheath of flesh so his victim wouldn’t bleed out too quickly. Rinkana threw him to the floor before propping him up and shoving him against the foot of the bed.

Jolrain? Garren asked as Rinkana turned to him.

I found her, Rinkana said, bringing his face to Garren’s. Lifeless, beaten, and naked.

I don’t even know her!

"No? There aren't many elves below the age of a hundred, let alone thirteen."

Rinkana yanked Garren by the arms, forcing him to stumble from the pain in his waist, and pushed him to the ground next to his friend. Darinal grabbed the tonfa lodged into his side and tugged, but no strength remained in him to free the blade.

Garren screamed for help. Rinkana responded with a quick movement, pulling his tonfa from Darinal’s side and slashing the other elf’s face. A sheet of blood sprayed out, and both wailed. Rinkana could see the panic on their faces set in, eyes racing around the room and mouths stuck open.

Part of me wonders if she was as afraid as you are, Rinkana said. If I would’ve heard her screams, could I have saved her?

Why does a Spire Elf like you care? Darinal asked as he coughed.

Rinkana delighted at the thought of blood saturating the murderer’s punctured lung, though the question rung in his head as odd. Ellenwood Elves and Spire Elves had always hated each other. He knew both races told stories of the other’s supposed cruelty, but Rinkana had left his homeland long ago and learned of the lies behind both sides. He didn’t even consider himself a Spire Elf anymore, just a lone dark elf. Of course, Darinal would assume such things as Rinkana enjoying the death of a child. The Ellenwood people in their entirety were led to believe Rinkana’s kind were not people at all, but monsters. Black Spire had told him the same about Ellenwood Elves, but Rinkana knew the truth of it all. Every flock of people in Ledhulm had kind and honest folk, and they all had their cruel ones too.

Rinkana pulled the blade from Garren’s body and slashed both his arms before kneeling and carving the tonfa’s tip into the floor. As he etched the letters, Rinkana sensed the elves begin to squirm. When he finished, the word ‘Crow’ remained engraved in the wood.

It’s you, Darinal said, but Rinkana didn't let him go on. He flipped both tonfas in his hands and drove them through Darinal’s chest.

Garren roared in anger, "You damn shade!"

Rinkana recognized the derogatory term, released his blades from the now corpse, and drove them into Garren’s ankles. Another squeal of agony interrupted the silence. The rush in Rinkana’s chest began to dissipate as he brought himself to the idea of finally ending the elf’s life. Garren’s punishment had gone on long enough, and he needed to sneak away before Volinar guards came bursting through the door to retrieve him. He put the tip of his blade to his next victim’s chest, right at the heart, and prepared to push.

To Rinkana’s horror, though, the elf laughed. I liked it, you know?

Rinkana pulled away from Garren and crouched down, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh. He tried to hold back the hatred now building within him. All over the world, from city to city, he found monsters like Darinal and Garren to punish. Jolrain’s twisted and broken body flashed in his mind, and he found a moment of clarity. Rinkana’s eyes opened as he rested them on Garren with an aggressive stare. Something drew him to Volinar, and for some reason, like a prickle in the back of his consciousness, he felt this was why.

Rinkana took a deep breath. The anger pulled at him again, and he let it steal him away. In the darkness of his mind, he reached out for his burning soul and grabbed it. As he opened his eyes, a sensation of burning ran up his spine and through his arm. Rinkana returned to his full height, which stood a bit taller than the average human, and felt the burning exit out of his fingers. Magical fire erupted on Garren’s feet and began to crawl up his legs. A long moment passed as Garren fought the urge to wail. When the Ellenwood Elf broke, a shrill scream cut through the tree house and Rinkana knew his job was done.

You deserve worse, Rinkana said and leaped into the windowsill.

He looked back at his handiwork and finally let the tension in his chest release. A swell of contempt flooded from him and dissipated, leaving him feeling light and balanced.

Just as Rinkana prepared to jump from the window into the forest bed below, an arrow whizzed by his face. He made his body go limp, feigning a hit, and let himself fall. The cloak on his back whipped in the air like a bird’s wings on its first flight. Rinkana twisted in the air, positioning his feet to land before hitting the dirt and ripping an obsidian long sword from its sheath on his back.

Ellenwood Elves, all garbed in delicate and shining silver armor, surrounded him in seconds. Rinkana brought his sword up to a guard, eying them all from the base of his blade, no doubt in his mind that the screams of his latest victims drew the guards to his location. He cursed under his breath, regretting his extra time spent back in the tree house. Nothing stopped him from killing the garbage he found there, but he couldn't bring himself to end the guards’ lives. They claimed no murders or horrible acts of violence to Rinkana’s knowledge, and that saved them from his wrath. Even if they were guilty, Rinkana couldn't prove it. Thus, he removed himself from the idea of killing them.

We thought the infamous Crow might be in town, announced an armored elf on horseback from behind the guards. Rinkana recognized him as a Guard Captain Annarid. He spent the day before scouting the city beneath a drawn hood, taking mental notes on the patrol routes the guards took. We found Jolrain–the young girl you murdered–just north of town this morning.

Rinkana scoffed. Someone must have seen him studying the crime scene, possibly even Jolrain’s actual murderers intending to return to their victim to remove evidence, only to find him there to provide the perfect alibi. He could try to explain his innocence, but in times Rinkana found himself in similar predicaments, his own brutality often blinded his pursuers from the truth. More so, elves and dark elves never saw eye to eye except for the hate left lingering between them from a feud long ago. They, Rinkana decided, wouldn't hear him beg.

Very well, Annarid called when Rinkana didn't answer. He waved his hand, and the shining elves tilted their weapons in on Rinkana, his back to the now burning tree. They approached the dark elf step by step, hesitating as they inched forward. Rinkana raised his brow. His reputation preceded him. He faked left before lashing out at the guards from the right.

Rinkana’s black blade met with the silver weapons of the guards’ swords. Each clash of metal rang out into the night as they bled into the next, creating a winding chime of metal. With each parry, Rinkana gained ground for his footwork, allowing him more room to maneuver as he pressed toward them.

Another sword dove in at him, but Rinkana stepped to the side, allowing it to slice the air behind him as he repelled another attack. An opening for a kill revealed itself a second later, but he spun away from it, refusing to kill soldiers following orders. Instead, Rinkana found a different gap in the guards’ defense, kicking one in the chest and sending a handful of them sprawling backwards.

He danced past the downed foes, only to meet another group waiting for him. Now surrounded, Rinkana took advantage of their inexperienced attacks. The guards, having known peace for decades, displayed their combat ignorance to him like torches in the night. No doubt they were all trained and skilled fighters, but Rinkana knew he exceeded their skills to a massive degree. Still, the number of assaults he now needed to repel continued to grow. He checked a guard away with his shoulder, tripped another, and disarmed the next, trying to find an opening to run. Despite his efforts, even more guards outgrew their hesitance and joined in the affray.

Come on now, we all know you won’t kill any of my troops and you can’t escape. It’s okay to kill an innocent girl when no one is watching, but not when you have witnesses? Annarid taunted from behind the wall of swords and armor. It won’t be long before we’ve overpowered you… Even the great Crow can be overwhelmed.

Rinkana ignored the threat, shaking his head at the words. He had been in tighter situations before and come out on top. Thoughts of lighting the forest bed on fire came to mind, but he restrained himself from the urge to do so even for the sake of his own survival. The fire he started in the tree house already spit soot into the wind and posed too much of a threat to innocent bystanders.

Several attacks came in at him simultaneously, and though he successfully rebounded them with a wide swing, Rinkana’s confidence faltered. Beads of sweat drew down his face, and the shouts of civilians insulting him from the windows of their homes broke his concentration. Smoke clogged his vision and attacked his lungs, leaving a dry patch in the back of his throat. He couldn’t last much longer like this. Any moment now, he would have to find his opening or submit defeat.

A sword cut in close to Rinkana’s chest, but he met it with his own, sliding it down the guard’s blade and pulling his enemy toward him. He spun and grabbed the attacker from behind, yanking him into his chest and pressing his sword to their throat.

Let me go, and I won’t spill his blood, Rinkana yelled as he extended the space between himself and the guards. He eyed them all through the raining ashes, watching their center of gravity, making sure they remained frozen in place. They lowered their weapons. Rinkana squeezed his captive as he maneuvered himself through the crowd of guards. If he made it to the other side of them, he could release the guard and run for safety. He blinked his stinging eyes, trying to rid himself of the smoke biting at them.

Now, now, Annarid called out. Don’t gamble with my guard’s life.

Rinkana hastened his feet, hoping to reach a point where he could run, but the guards maintained a circle around him. Without warning, his prisoner’s body fell limp as they let out a shrill of agony. Rinkana didn't realize the elf he held so tight in his arms was now dead. When he released his grip, the guard’s body fell to the ground. An arrow protruded out of the guard’s chest, blood glossing over his armor’s sheen. A gaping mouth and blue, unblinking eyes lay engraved on the elf’s lifeless face.

Tension squeezed and rolled up inside Rinkana. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as his gaze turned to Annarid. The captain lowered the bow in his hand.

A city guard knows they risk their life for their station, and your life is more valuable than his, Rinkana’s new target said. It is a pity, though. You could have prevented this if only you came peacefully.

Rinkana looked at the shocked faces of the other guards, surprised at their leader’s lack of remorse. He dropped his sword and yanked his tonfas from their sheaths on his legs and charged Annarid. Elves tried to step in his way, but Rinkana now blamed them for protecting their pathetic excuse for a leader. He no longer heard their yells of profanity or screams of shock. Rage silenced the sound around him, Rinkana’s mind now set on a singular goal.

As he approached the horse Annarid sat upon, Rinkana gripped the bottom of its saddle and flung himself upward. Blade met steel as Rinkana collided with the Guard Captain. Together, they fell from the saddle and crashed to the ground, forcing the tonfas to pierce through Annarid’s chest plate. Rinkana lurched forward, shoving his weapons deeper into the flesh. The elves around Rinkana stepped back, unsure whether their captain lived or not. Rinkana brought his gaze to his victim’s own, intent on watching the light leave Annarid’s eyes.

Annarid coughed, blood pluming from his mouth and eyes bulging. Red enclosed Rinkana’s vision as he shook in anger. None of the surrounding elves dared to approach him, even with their captain’s life hanging in the balance.

Rinkana roared in unbridled rage. He yanked his tonfas free and lunged at Annarid again. Emotion took over as he began to hack and stab at his object of hatred, every assault a display of his anger. Tears and blood shed into the air as Rinkana continued. He couldn’t bring himself to believe the captain had sacrificed his own soldier for such a simple gain. The audience came to their senses after an hour-long minute and a guard grabbed the dark elf from behind, pulling him away.

Stupid shade, the guard said. It would be an honor to die for your capture.

The doubt in your voice is trembling, Rinkana said, his voice cold and unforgiving. Still in a flurry of emotion, he threw his tonfas down at the mangled body and struggled to free himself from the guard’s grasp. More soldiers came to intervene, attempting to restrain Rinkana as they dragged him away.

Bastard! Rinkana roared as he continued to flail. Tears ran down his face as he shouted more insults.

Can someone shut him up? a guard yelled, and within a moment Rinkana felt a blunt instrument collide with the side of his head.

He struggled against the darkness enshrouding his mind, and the guards let him go. Everything blurred as his head thrummed and his legs wobbled him forward. Rinkana fell to his chest, and he crawled the remaining feet to Annarid’s body. His arms vibrated as he struggled to push himself up. The sound of shifting feet and distant wind silenced as his head lolled and the colors in his sight spiraled out of control. He finally made it to his destination when the smell of pine and lead enriched his senses. Rinkana could just make out the lines of Annarid’s face through the shifting lights around him when his vision faded.

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ONE

IT WAS JUST before sunrise and Edralan was sitting in his chair, reading a book, and sipping on his hot cup of tea inside his tree house. He didn’t sleep the night before, as elves commonly wouldn’t, and yet he still dressed in his sleeping garments, running his finger across the pages of Udallen Earllia’s Collected Work of Poems. His feet rested on his wooden coffee table where dozens of opened and read letters lay. Some were still new, the paper yet to have tarnished with age, while others showed varying stages of the deteriorated colors of yellow and brown.

He looked up from his book and peered around at the hollow inside of his lantern lit home. It was a humble abode with only his living room, a small kitchen and a door leading to his bedroom. One lantern hovered just above him, shining light over his book. On his side table, along with his warm cup of tea, were other cold ones sitting sporadically on top of it. A window across the room revealed the night sky that looked out among the city.

As the first light of day seeped in, Edralan marked a page in his book with a feather and paced around the room. His eyes glanced over at his newest letter now and then as he contemplated reading it again. A sigh released from his chest when he stopped and picked it up. He flipped open the letter for what seemed like the hundredth time as he stood in front of the window and watched the white sun, Nora, rise and read:

Provinal 7th 1515 S.D.

Edralan,

My journeys have been long, but for once I'm feeling as if I've succeeded. I may have found what I was looking for, and I know to this day you still question what that may be, or maybe you don’t. I left you so long ago it feels like, and I've kept my promise to send you a letter every month I'm gone. Still, sixty years is a long time for younger elves like you. I am sorry to have left you when you were still only a youngling, and so soon after our parents left life. Agelessness is a precious gift, and we elves tend not to see the importance of urgency as I have. My quest was and still is, urgent. I can tell you, Edralan, that my journey is drawing to a close, and I hope to see you soon.

I am on the continent of Markreth, and my journey back to Yuzran won't be short. Ledhulm is a much larger world than our people like to think. It is unfortunate that many of our kind spend hundreds of years without ever leaving Ellenwood Forest. I encourage you, as I have many times in the past, to look beyond the trees. Perhaps Ledhulm differs from what you think it is. My time is running short though, and I hope to see you soon.

-Anradar Whitefeather

It had been a year and a month since his brother sent this letter, and Edralan’s heart sunk every time he read it. Sixty years and his brother never skipped a month, like he had promised, and suddenly they stopped right as he seemed to round out the end of his journey.

Edralan’s brother left him in an orphanage at age twelve, and since then he achieved his accomplishments alone and with no one’s help but his own. Now at the young age of seventy-three, Edralan had spent most of his life living in this very tree house, handed down to him by his brother. He lived there all the years he trained to be a part of the Iltari, a group of trained guards that protected the Ellenwood Elves’ matriarch. Despite all his victories, his brother, who moved locations so often it was impossible to send a reply letter, never learned of Edralan’s triumphs. Even though time and distance divided him from Anradar, he still felt the overpowering connection and love they had always had for each other. Edralan would never give up on his return, even if it meant going looking for him.

Edralan caught himself wandering for too long and noticed a warm light now flooding the entire room, revealing the circles in the wood beneath him. As part of his daily routine, Edralan retrieved his white Iltari armor that had gold and turquoise trim from a mannequin where it was resting and dressed himself. He wrapped his sleek white bow around his shoulder and attached two axes to his waist. Walking through the living room, he ran his hands through his long black hair, pushing it out of his face. His green eyes and sharp facial features complimented his characterful eyebrows as he glanced around the house before heading out the door.

After climbing down the vined ladder, he flicked open his wooden mailbox to reveal that it was still empty. After such a long time he still hoped a letter from Anradar, or perhaps several late letters, would be there for him. His lack of surprise saddened him at its emptiness. The widening pit in Edralan’s stomach grew darker, like it did every day the mailbox was empty. He put his hand inside just in case, received nothing, and pushed the mailbox shut.

He took a fresh look around at the Ellenwood capital city, Quile, seeing it now growing busier as the morning crept in. The massive trees surrounding him gave off the smell of fresh pine as he walked through the sunlit housing district. Birds chirped in the woods, and their happy singing seemed to lighten his mood.

Soon, he passed through the market where a couple shops made of gray stone had immaculate carvings of leaves and flowers on them. Wooden signs poked out from the doorways with the names of the stores, and a couple had already hung open signs in the windows.

At the end of his walk was the Life Tree. It was a glorious sight, as should the largest tree in existence be. It was taller than any of the other trees around, reaching hundreds of feet high, but it was miles wide and served as the town hall and queen’s domain combined. Entrances were at the crevasses in the tree’s massive roots, and the insides were long ago carved out. Despite all this, it somehow remained alive.

Edralan entered and glanced at the throne made of wood and green leaves at the back of the grand hall where the queen often sat with her legs crossed and arms primped up. Tables lay spread around the hall in shapes of large rose petals, and a massive kitchen was dug into the walls in a giant circle. A staircase spiraled around the inside above the ground floor with doorways revealing courtrooms, military quarters, art galleries, historic libraries, and other necessities to run the city. Edralan had never seen them all. There were just too many to visit, and he hoped it would stay that way. At the very top of the staircase was a circular door painted red with two Iltari guards standing on either side, shields drawn, and spears held in hand. Inside was the queen’s private living quarters, and none except her and her predecessors had ever been inside.

Today, like most days, the Life Tree was rather empty as wars and such had long become part of their past. Most conflicts arose within the elven criminal population or from outsiders that trespassed into their lands. The throne was empty as well and the hall had only a few guards inside eating the queen’s benefited three meals a day for their services.

Edralan shrugged when he remembered that today was Gonlah, the second day of the week, the day he had been dreading since his mistake last week. What she would say about his stupid decisions was sure to ruffle his coworker’s feathers. He could accept everyone’s heated glances, but if the queen was angry, then he was sure it’d be a short trip to demotion. Any minute now she would descend from her room, sit herself down on the throne, and start yapping out her weekly orders. Usually they stayed the same, but Edralan assumed he wouldn’t get so lucky.

Still waiting to hear what the queen will say about Redfinger’s escape last week? came a voice from behind Edralan, who now sat alone at a table near the entry of the hall, staring at the throne.

Edralan turned to see another Iltari member walking up to him with a pleased smile on his face. He was rather stocky and muscular for an elf, and had blue, beady eyes that Edralan thought made him look idiotic.

Lannis, I imagine Queen Lilandria has not forgotten, Edralan said, already annoyed, but the judgment is up to her.

Tis a shame he got away under your supervision, is it not? Lannis shook his head. We all worked so hard to get him too.

Edralan had been taking slack for a week now about messing up an easy task for the queen, but he had a lot of patience and refused to satisfy Lannis by letting his composure falter.

A shame, Edralan said, meeting Lannis eye to eye for the first time. He shook his head and went to sit at another table where guards greeted him with laughs and smiles. Plenty more Iltari and city guards were spilling into the grand hall, but all seemed to have knowledge of Edralan’s reputation and avoided sitting next to him for fear of embarrassment.

Redfinger was a member of the Red Blade Brotherhood, an organization of thieves and assassins, who had somehow found their way into Quile despite its rather large stone walls that surrounded all the Ellenwood cities. After a month of hard work trying to find Redfinger, the Iltari captured him only for Edralan to set him free after being tricked. The bastard used a fork he gave him to pick the locks on his shackles. Not that Edralan was popular with the rest of the Iltari before, he was the newest member, and they had not yet felt he proved his worth.

Edralan sensed angry eyes sitting on his back from all directions. He walked over to the kitchen, ignoring the surrounding whispers, and grabbed some soup and started back toward his lonely table.

Sorry, another Iltari member by the name of Jarinar, who had thin blond hair and angry eyes, said as he slapped Edralan’s bowl from his hands, spattering soup all over the floor and sending the wooden dish skittering away.

Apology accepted, Edralan said behind a glare.

He learned the only way to gain their respect back was to put up with their immaturity. Instead of returning to the kitchen to get another bowl, Edralan cleaned up the mess and returned to his seat.

The hall fell silent when they picked up the creaking sound of a door open, forcing them all to look up at the top floor as the queen’s private chambers opened. A thin, young-looking elf, though all elves looked young despite their age, started walking down the staircase. She had long brown hair braided into a headdress and decorated with flowers. Her beauty was so grand she stunned those who looked upon her for a second before they returned to normal. She had big green eyes, and her lips looked as if they were so gentle, they couldn’t open. A magnificent green dress was around her thin frame that looked as if made of three large leaves, and a crown made of emeralds and branches on her head. Everyone’s eyes circled around as she swept down the stairs.

As we often do the second day of every week, she said in a light voice after sitting on her throne, consuming everyone’s attention. We will go over this week’s goals. It should only take a half hour and you may all get back to more important matters.

The crowd of guards, soldiers, and Iltari all nodded and hummed in approval. Edralan knew everyone in the room was thinking of how opposite the queen conveyed her attitude compared to how she was. Everything about her, even her look, made her appear to be a kind elf, but they all feared her stern interior. The way she ruled over her people left them doubtless of her ability to govern their realm, even if most of them feared her more than they loved her.

When he was younger, Edralan wondered why Ellenwood never had a king like most of the other nations, but history books taught him how the absence of a male leader came to be. The first king of Ellenwood had died thousands of years ago in the First Darkness War. Ever since, the elves celebrated his wife’s rule by never allowing another male to take up his crown. In effect, queens became their leaders, and though they married men, their husbands would never hold the queen’s power.

Redfinger, the queen said and paused for effect. Many voices in the hall echoed his name. Has, as we all realize, not for the first time slipped through our custody. Retrieving him shouldn't take much longer. As for the military, you are to continue to train. The Solace Lake War continues to pose a threat to flood into our lands, and it may or may not force our hand in aiding our Ev and Dall allies. She was delicate looking, but the words came out with the power of confidence.

As for other matters, she began. Edralan?

Everyone had been expecting this. They all wanted to hear Edralan get an ear full for his mistakes, or better yet, receive a demoted. Still, it was amazing how the queen had everyone’s name memorized.

Let’s hope he gets demoted back to a guard, he never belonged with us anyway, Edralan heard Lannis say. He wanted to retort a snappy remark, but Edralan bit his tongue to stop himself.

Lannis, keep your mouth shut, the queen said with a stern whip in her voice. Edralan saw Lannis’s head wheel around, shocked that she overheard him, and he sunk into his seat.

Ma’am, Edralan said, getting the courage to stand. His nerves reached their pinnacle. He knew what he did was a grave mistake, but he couldn't help thinking this one choice would forfeit the hard work of the past decades of his life.

I'll not let it go unnoticed or unpunished that you are the main reason for Redfinger’s recent escape, she said. Her voice had changed from pleasant to a tone of torture. But I didn't initiate you into the Iltari to let your talents go to waste. What say you in your defense on the matter? You may speak. She waved her hand as if what he said didn’t matter.

Edralan’s choked back what would be his immediate responses. He didn't want to admit full blame in front of the queen, though that is what he had to do. It was no other fault but his own, so he straightened his shoulders and looked her in the eyes. Her glare stung like fire in his eyes, but he resisted the urge to pull them away.

Ma’am, I take full responsibility for my actions, I was foolish. He was hungry and against my better judgment I gave him something to eat his food with, and instead he used it to pick the locks on his shackles and escape. I didn't mean to do this, I assure you, Edralan said. He refused to even risk blinking as he held her eye contact.

She seemed to mull things over as she tapped her fingernails on the arms of the throne. Very well, she said, her voice turning pleasant, I have a task for you. If you accept?

Ma’am, Edralan nodded, he would take on anything before he would go through the humiliation of being demoted. He was still only an initiate of the Iltari, and if his brother were to come home, he didn't want the shame.

I received word that ten days ago we captured someone of not only great interest to me, but of great interest to our allied races, and even our enemies. Right now, he is being held in Volinar Prison for the sadistic murder of a guard captain, two additional elves, and the cruel torture of another one of our kin that has left him in critical condition. Fortunately, for his life, I would like very much to speak with him, she said. You may recognize his name, Crow. He’s quite the famous assassin, murderer, serial killer, nuisance, whatever you may call him.

Everyone in the hall knew the name. Every so often, once or twice a year, a random body would turn up with the word ‘Crow’ carved into the tree or ground next to them and sometimes even carved into the victim. A few guards liked his work because those he murdered would end up being linked to a crime they were working on.

Ma’am, Edralan responded, he was growing in fear of what his task was. Other rumors of this ‘Crow’ were that he was a dark elf, a race the Ellenwood Elves feared and loathed, and that he was such a skilled swordsman that he once fought off twenty of their guards without even laying a hand on them. Edralan knew he couldn’t compete with such swordsmanship.

He is at Volinar Prison, like I stated earlier, but I need someone to transport him to Quile. I would like to question him to see what's true and false and run a trial. After which, we may well have him executed. He has murdered many of our people, but I may keep him for other reasons.

What? Lannis said, standing up, Ma’am please, he just let Redfinger go because of an amateur mistake. How could you trust this upon him?

I'm sorry to interrupt, My Queen, Jarinar said, he too stood up at once. Is it wise to trust him with this task? I agree in full with Lannis, your highness.

Quiet down, she said. Her tone intensified. I believe I understand what it is I'm doing. She turned her head toward Edralan. Fail to do so, and I'll expect your resignation not only from the Iltari, but from the Quile Guard. As for Jarinar and Lannis, you may use them at your disposal. Perhaps Edralan will get you to make him a bowl of soup as your first task, or has being intolerable put you above such mundane tasks? The three of you leave by the end of the day. Failure, and they will await demotion to guards for their speech that was… out of place.

She got up from her throne and began walking back up the stairs. Jarinar punched the table and gave glances at Edralan yet didn't allow himself to speak in the queen’s presence.

Good day, Queen Lilandria said in a forced pleasant voice before retreating to her room. Edralan stayed frozen in shock, hoping what he received was not reality. His stomach turned, and he thought he would puke all over the table before remembering he still hadn’t eaten.

Your Highness, Lannis said, bumping Edralan as he walked out of the hall.

See you outside the south exit in two hours, Edralan called after him, holding back a curse word, hoping Lannis heard him.

Don’t, Edralan spun around to see Jarinar pointing and talking at him, mess this up for us, but in the meantime, we might as well get along. He whipped away within a second, leaving Edralan alone in the hall.

Only a short while later, Edralan paced back and forth in his living room at home. He couldn’t understand why the queen had given him such a task. This Crow character’s reputation for being such a skilled fighter made him doubt even the three of them could escort him to Quile. Not only that, but the way Crow’s victims were described after his attacks almost sounded like he had pleasure in dissecting their bodies or watching their skin melt off. Edralan sighed and fell to his chair, pressing his palms into his forehead.

What if she wants me to fail? Edralan said to himself out loud. It didn’t seem so far from what he thought could be the truth. The queen had always put off such a nice exterior, but everyone knew of her vengeful side. Letting Redfinger escape had doomed him. Edralan’s eyes turned to the pile of his brother’s letters, and he shook his head. He picked up another and read it, hoping to calm himself down:

Laznal 41st 1499 S.D.

Edralan,

Ledhulm’s Prayer is ever eluding me. I've been searching and searching, but it seems Markreth is the haystack to my needle. Nine days a week, forty-six days a month, nine months a year. For how long must I search for it? My goal is daunting, yet my group pushes on. I know I say it all too often, but I am sorry for my absence in your life. I hope one day you’ll understand. Remember, Edralan, no matter how impossible a task may seem, all goals are achievable through perseverance.

-Anradar Whitefeather

Edralan placed the letter back on his tea table and sighed. His brother was right, this task wasn’t impossible, yet something stuck out in the letter this time that he never gave much attention to in the times he read it before.

Ledhulm’s Prayer. The name rang in his mind. Anradar rarely wrote in his letters about what he was up to, and Edralan had skipped the key point in this one like a mere misspelling for years. He had never read of Ledhulm’s Prayer outside of this letter before though. The want, or rather perhaps the need to go out into the world and search for his brother now entered his head stronger.

Well, Edralan said and laughed. I don’t get Crow back here, and I might just have to.

A few hours later, Edralan grabbed the same letter from his pile, stuffed it in his pocket and met up with Lannis and Jarinar outside the southern gates within the woods. It was much different outside the city. The forest appeared thicker and somewhat greener. The daylight showed through the branches, like dark clouds hovering over them. There were no pathways through the roots of trees that reached up from the ground. Scattered dead branches threatened every step to send them falling to their hands and knees.

Surprised you discovered where to show up, Lannis, Edralan said, using his temporary leadership to patronize him.

Your loudmouth made sure of that.

Edralan side eyed him, and they all departed from the city on foot.

Hours followed their departure, and soon Nora had fallen below the skyline, allowing a thick blanket of darkness to drop over their vision. If only they could climb the trees, they could see a sky full of stars and two of Ledhulm’s three moons. After trying to find their way around the landscape in the pitch black for a while, the group settled down for the night and built a campfire.

Once everything was in place, Jarinar and Lannis picked up their conversation where they left off as the three of them sat around the warmth. Edralan accepted his fate of silence and drifted back into thinking about the task that lay ahead of them. After a while Lannis went to bed, leaving the campfire crackling. Edralan looked over to Jarinar, hoping that he would follow through on what he said earlier about getting along, but after a full day of Jarinar glaring at him, he decided that some elf-to-elf interaction was a bit out of reach.

Edralan turned his gaze to the flames and wandered back to the letter his brother sent him years ago that mentioned Ledhulm’s Prayer. At the age of only seventy-three he was still an incredibly young person for his race, so it was possible that was why he had never discovered it, even for him being quite an avid reader. He guessed that he could always ask someone back home about it, or even search the library, but then again, he had read almost everything in Quile at this point. Then he remembered Jarinar was far older than him.

Jarinar? Edralan asked in a low voice as not to wake up Lannis.

What? Jarinar asked, irritated.

Never mind, Edralan said, shaking his head. He shouldn’t have thought Jarinar was being serious back at the Life Tree.

No, it is fine, what? Jarinar pressed with obvious tension in his voice.

Have you ever heard of Ledhulm’s Prayer?

You wouldn’t do much for yourself wondering about that, Jarinar said, but Edralan picked up a note of hesitancy in his voice.

Why not?

It’s a myth of sorts, only elves a few centuries or older would appreciate it. That's all I know though. Except– Jarinar stopped mid-sentence, like his mind had stumbled upon something it shouldn’t have.

Except what? Edralan pressed, he needed to learn everything now. A silent obsession closed in on him.

Except it’s a dangerous thing to go looking for if I remember right. Those who search for whatever it is rarely come back, and I think I remember the queen banning any literature on the subject in Ellenwood about a century ago. Can’t be something good, so like I said, you wouldn’t do much for yourself wondering about it. Jarinar shook his head.

That’s it?

Yes, Jarinar said. That’s it. Leave that topic alone, Edralan, for your own good.

Jarinar went to bed and Edralan followed suit not long after, the thoughts of Ledhulm’s Prayer now embedded in his mind. His brother’s reasons for searching for something so dangerous troubled him, forcing him to jump to conclusions about what had befallen him. What worried Edralan more was why, if such a thing was so dangerous and so important to Anradar, did his brother not tell him more? Whatever it was, Edralan was now positive that after a year of absent letters, something had happened to him. What kind of danger, he didn’t know, but somehow, he needed to find out. Maybe if he brought Crow back to Quile, he could risk asking the queen about it. Edralan let the thoughts bounce in and out of his head for a while before his eyes got heavier. He blinked a few times and like a wave of cool air he fell asleep.

TWO

THE ELVES SPENT the next few days much like the first. Lannis and Jarinar kept their conversations at low whispers they deduced Edralan ought not to know about, so instead he led the way, convincing himself he was still in control. At night, Edralan sat near the campfire, wishing he had brought his book to read and pass the time quicker. In his spare moments, Edralan started coming up with a plan on how to bring Crow back to Quile unscathed. If he succeeded, he had a better chance of asking the queen about Ledhulm’s Prayer.

Edralan’s worry for his brother’s wellbeing intensified until it was a constant thump in his chest. His thoughts often drifted to the worst places possible. Images of his brother’s death plagued his mind. The worst of it was not knowing along with the fact that at this point he forgot what Anradar’s voice sounded like. He had always believed when he read the letters it was Anradar’s voice speaking in his head, but ever since coming to terms with the idea that he might be dead he now realized it was just his own. Their voices may be similar, but his recent discoveries had clouded his judgment.

Storm clouds rolled in on the last day of their journey, along with heavy rain. The water ricocheted off the tops of trees and found its way to the forest bed, and to Edralan’s distaste, seeped through the openings in his armor. The ground had turned to mush beneath their footsteps, and the downpour soaked their hair before they even entered an opening in the forest, revealing Volinar.

From where they stood, they saw log stables and a large graveyard surrounded by a picket fence that had vines growing all around it. Behind the stables and graveyard was a stone wall, much like Quile’s own, that enclosed the city. Visible to them behind it were a few trees, and a tall watch tower made of stone in the center of the city.

Now, before we get in the city and retrieve Crow, we have a few rules we need to set up for you, Edralan, Lannis said, pulling him aside.

Edralan had expected this, he knew they would try to overthrow his leadership. I don’t think so Lannis, the queen put me in charge, and if we want to do this right, we had better follow those directions, Edralan said and wiped water from his face.

Now look here, Jarinar said, bringing his finger up to Edralan’s nose. We’re much more experienced at this than you are, and we’d hate for the queen to punish us all for your mistakes. Take this as a sign that we like you enough to help ourselves.

If we don’t do it right, we all get punished, Edralan said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Not if you don’t tell her, Lannis grumbled.

At least have some honor in what you do, Edralan said, throwing up his hands. The two elves stared at him like they wanted to tie him up and beat him.

Very well, Lannis said, but when we get back to Quile without Crow, you’ll wish we’d done it our way.

Edralan laughed and shook his head. Just trust me, I wouldn’t snitch you out, but others may be watching us.

True, Jarinar nodded, conceding to Edralan. What’s your plan then?

We can’t start escorting him today. The rain will just give us more of a problem than we already have. Let’s wait until tomorrow, and–

No, we need to start today, Lannis interrupted. If we're doing it your way, we start today. It’s still morning and we can get a good distance home before sundown. Queen Lilandria will be more than displeased if we come home later than she expects. And I’ll tell you, she is expecting a timely return.

Edralan knew he was right but didn’t want to admit it. He feared the queen’s wrath if they strolled back into Quile days later than she wished. If the rain lasted longer than just today, which was more fact than possibility judging by the sky, they wouldn't meet her expectations.

Okay, we take the risk and leave today, but I think it would do us all some good to get dry around the city first. We have all been here before, and we all know where Volinar Prison is, so let’s meet there at noon.

Lannis was about to retort about wanting to leave as soon as possible, but Jarinar grabbed him and led the pair into the city. Even though Edralan wanted to get dry, he wanted some time to check the local bookshop, and even the library as well to search for anything that could give him any leads on what Ledhulm’s Prayer was.

Edralan entered the city a short minute after the others to see the guards’ barracks and an inn near either side of the interior of the entrance, but walked past them, ignoring his desire to rest. He didn't want to waste time on seeing an old friend who would welcome the need to talk his ear off about what he had been doing since his last visit to Volinar. That would only fall short of disastrous.

The shops in Volinar were not unlike the ones in Quile, but instead of leaf carvings in the stone, they had vines and flowers etched into them. Small sculptures of animals littered the walkways of the shopping district and wooden signs stretched out over Edralan, so he read them as he passed: Archer’s Arm, Rollin’s Guard Apparel, Tealin’s Touch (Dress Shop), Ilra’s Book’s and Scrolls. Edralan entered the last shop in the stretch that had a drape of colored beads hanging over the entryway.

It was dark inside. Rickety bookshelves lined the walls and up the middle of the shop. Barrels of scrolls were squeezed into wherever they could fit, only allowing a small walkway through the dust that fell from the ceiling. The only light came from cracks in the wooden walls and obscured windows.

Oh no, no, no, said a sharp female voice from the back of the shop whom Edralan couldn’t see.

I’m sorry, I just– Edralan said, turning himself around to the sound of her voice.

Don’t come into a bookstore all wet! said a blond who was standing behind a counter that had a deep purple cloth draped over it. You’ll ruin the pages. She was wearing a lavender dress with sewn designs of sun flowers that shook with her arms in her anger.

Oh—I’m sorry, I– Edralan went to say, but the elf, Ilra, swung around the counter and pointed a wand out at Edralan.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and a blast of warm air rushed over him. His hair flew backwards, along with the loose straps of his armor, and his clothes dried. Warmth spread around his body, and even though no one in their right mind liked a wizard’s wand in their face, he was still grateful for the favor she had just done for him.

A warning would be nice before you point that thing at me, Edralan said, still frightened, as the last time a wand directed itself at him a bolt of arcane magic had found its way hurtling toward him.

Warning that a wet dog may come into my shop today may have been nice too, the sorceress retorted. You are a young elf, aren’t you? Still as stupid as an old human.

Edralan took no offense to the elf’s insults. It was foolish of him to enter a bookshop sopping wet. He had only just noticed that most of the tomes on the shelves were expensive antiques.

Why aren’t most of these books in a library instead? Edralan asked, now looking around at them with curiosity. You can’t possibly want to rid yourself of them all?

I’ve read them all, multiple times now, and knowledge is best passed on rather than kept to yourself, Ilra said, pleased by Edralan’s appreciation of her collection. Or so you'd think.

Why not donate them to the library? Edralan asked, as he pulled out a thick book called Legends of Markreth: The Wastelands of Ledhulm and flipped through the pages. I’m sure they would even give you a nice sum of frets for them.

Not as much as I could get—careful with that one—selling them myself. I have to make a living somehow, which seems to get harder and harder the older I get, she said, inspecting Edralan as if to catch him doing something mischievous. Though… I suppose some of my buyers may want to take the books farther from home and spreading knowledge to others seems to have always been a passion of mine.

Edralan put the book back in its place, discontented with having found nothing on Ledhulm’s Prayer or even any references to it at first glance. He walked up and down the bookshelves and even pulled out some scrolls before concluding that if he found anything here, he would need a lot more time on his hands.

Do you by chance have anything with information on Ledhulm’s Prayer? Edralan asked, hoping to find a shortcut.

Ilra spun around to look at him with wide lavender eyes. Why do you ask? she questioned, looking for the first time at his armor. Ah, yes, Iltari is it?

Well, yes, but–

She started pushing him to the door.

I have nothing of the sort in my shop, and even if I did, you could be sure I would never tell you. Books on that subject are banned, as you very well know, she said as she pushed Edralan toward the door.

No, wait, Edralan said. You have my word. I just need to find it myself! His words slipped out. He never planned to go searching for Ledhulm’s Prayer, but in the back of his mind he knew if he were to find his brother, searching for Ledhulm’s Prayer would be just as much part of the plan.

Well, Ilra stopped pushing him, but still had a frantic tone in her voice. I’ll be honest, I have nothing on the subject, but that weapon and its counterpart are best left alone! You won’t find a shred of evidence it exists in any Ellenwood library either. I should know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the shop is closed for the day. Can’t have Iltari looking around in my books. Wait—no! I have some business that needs taking care of. I don’t mind if an Iltari has been searching my store for contraband.

She nudged him into the rain and slammed the door shut. Edralan noticed a feint click, and a moment later the open sign in the window flipped over. Edralan sighed and shook his head. Ilra was right, if he looked in a library, he would find nothing there on Ledhulm’s Prayer. The queen owned the libraries, but Ilra had mentioned something that was food for thought to him. Ledhulm’s Prayer was a weapon, and it had a counterpart.

Edralan hurried across the city, now realizing that he was almost late for his meeting with Jarinar and Lannis. The rain was beating down harder as the storm above the forest had gotten even more reckless. The smell of waterlogged wood filled his nostrils as he approached the gate leading into Volinar Prison grounds. Jarinar and Lannis stood just outside waiting for him to get there, looking annoyed and impatient.

Took you long enough, Lannis said as Edralan walked past them and opened the gate.

Watch yourself, Edralan snapped. He was tired of Lannis’s remarks.

The three made their way across the grounds that grew dead grass and yellow thorns all mangled through it. Edralan guessed by the lack of love in the plants that the prisoners no longer received daylight activities.

Edralan looked up at the prison, which was the largest correctional facility in all of Ellenwood. Black stone made up the building and copper colored iron supported the edges. It had only one level, but it reached back a long distance. The front door, made of the same iron for its build, had bars on its small square window. Unlike the natural style of the rest of the elven architecture, the prison was blocky with harsh corners and edges. It made anyone, even outsiders, uneasy in its presence.

Inside, Edralan looked around to see a tall, muscular elf sitting at a desk off to the side. He sorted through papers with a small fire-lit lamp, giving him just enough light to read. The only other source of light came from the small, barred window on the door, and the torches that lined the hallway reaching so far back that Edralan never saw the end. A handful of guards dressed in silver-plated armor stood outside the jail cells that were barely large enough for a stone bed and a pile of hay. Edralan had the feeling of being in an underground tunnel as water dripped through cracks in the ceiling that he could never reach even by jumping.

Excuse me? Edralan said, approaching the elf at the table. We’ve been sent to escort a prisoner to Quile.

Ah yes, the elf stood up and stuck out his hand. My name is Farvagin. He dressed in a simple tattered white shirt and dirty pants. Edralan noted his odd way of dressing for an elf.

They notified you of our visit? Edralan asked, grasping his hand into a firm shake.

Yes, yes. Farvagin ruffled his short black hair as he looked down at his papers. Ah, here it is. Just need a signature from at least two of the prisoner’s escorts, and I can release the wretch into your custody.

He stuck out the paper. Edralan saw only now the amount of dirt on the elf’s work tortured hands and grimaced. He regretted the handshake.

Edralan took the sheet and a quill off Farvagin’s table and put his clean and proper signature at the bottom of the sheet and passed it along to Jarinar. Lannis gave Edralan a prissy look, as if meaning that he wanted to sign and not Jarinar. His pettiness almost made Edralan laugh.

Well, Farvagin said, retrieving the document and looking it over. Seems all is in order. The rat should be in the second hallway down on your right. Cell fifty-four, I think.

He grabbed a brass key off the wall and tossed it over to Edralan who still saw it through the dim lighting and caught it with the tip of his finger.

Edralan’s heart thumped as they walked deep into the prison and dreamed how fearful he would be if he were to have to spend his life there. The torches on the walls were lit, giving the chambers an emptiness, they could only regain by breathing fresh air. The deeper they got into the cave-like prison, the worse the smell of mold and filth became. He had to keep scratching his nose to give himself moments of