Miles Valyrian

The Emerald Groves, Jorden

THERE WAS A GROWL in Miles' stomach that told him he was hungry, as if some little beast was trapped within him, clawing at his insides and demanding to be fed. He would have to disappoint the little beast once more. His appetite had left him abandoned and starving, and he hadn't eaten once today. They had been on the road for three days now, searching for clues that would lead them to the elves. What they were searching for, Miles wasn't sure, but Sir Bayer seemed intent on finding something. He had brought with him two rangers; Sir Ryen Ridgewood, a young man with shaggy brown hair and a shaggy beard. He spoke of little else but drinking ale, winning tavern brawls and making love to all sorts of creatures. They made for amusing tales, but Miles wasn't in much of the mood to hear of them. They were tales more suited for evenings of drinking and laughing, not manhunts for elven kingslayers.

The other ranger the snowy haired Sir Wilken brought was Sir Nicolas Vanni, a quiet but muscular man with a thick head of dark hair. Sir Wilken counted him as one of their most athletic rangers. The rangers often spoke of him as if he were the wind; quiet and quick, and you wouldn't know he was there until he was. Miles wasn't sure what that meant, but the rangers spoke of him so fervently, he'd only nod and pretend to understand. They rode behind him and Sir Bayer with Miles Squadroners; Sir Keyland Wittler and Sir Albert Lafey. Both were valiant men, and men he trusted. There seems to be fewer and fewer of the sort nowadays...

Bayer trotted up to Miles' side. "The town of Greensfield isn't far from here. We could ask around the town for sightings of the elves, and supply ourselves with more food."

Miles nodded. "A good plan. I wouldn't mind a hot meal. Cold beef and stale bread does little for my appetite."

Bayer smiled. "I don't think the men would mind either. Maybe a night at the tavern would do us well."

Perhaps it would, if we weren't a searching party, Miles thought. He had noticed Sir Bayer didn't mind distractions or other things that would eat up their daylight. He seemed half committed to the cause of the finding the elves at times, and others as if his life depended on it. Miles couldn't make sense of the man, and sorely missed Lord Thornshield. If only Gallador could see his Order now...

They rode for sometime, through forests, on beaten roads, and over great hills. The late afternoon sun washed the cloudy sky in shades of gold, and the summer air made Miles damp with sweat. For a while, no one said or spoke of much, but that changed when Sir Ryen Ridgewood had another funny story to share.

"Did I ever tell you of the time I laid with a rabbit?"

Albert shot him a look. "A rabbit? You laid with a bloody damn rabbit?"

Keyland laughed. "And I thought the story about the pig was strange."

Ryen shrugged his broad shoulders. "I had one too many ales, and figured a rabbit would feel better than my hand."

"And did it?"

Ryen looked down at his right hand, and give his fingers a flex. "For the first few seconds, it did."

"What happened to the rabbit?" Asked Albert.

Ryen frowned. "The little thing died. I split it near in half. It was a shame. It would have made a fine pet."

Keyland laughed again, but Albert rolled his eyes. "You're a strange man, Sir Ryen."

"And you, Sir Albert? What's the strangest thing you've laid with?"

"Certainly no rabbit...or pig. I suppose...a Valdorian woman would have the honor."

Ryen hummed. "Valdorian women are lovely in bed. They have a certain taste to them, like...mangoes."

"I hate to agree with you...but they do taste like mangoes," said Albert.

Ryen looked towards the head of the party, where Miles and Bayer rode. "How about you, Sir Vallyrian? What's the strangest thing you've laid with?"

Miles wished he could've said a Valdorian woman. He knew a very fine Valdorian woman, one whom he missed dearly, one whom he now wondered if she tasted like mangoes. He would find out one day, after they found the elves, and after he was relieved of his oath. "I haven't laid with anything stranger than a woman, Sir Ryen. I'm sorry if I disappointed you."

Ryen didn't seem disappointed. "Rabbits and pigs aren't for everybody, I suppose. But every man should lay with a Valdorian woman at least once in their life! It'll make you live longer!"

"Is that actually true, Sir Ryen?" asked Keyland.

"Well...it'll make you happier, and my ma once told me happiness is the key to a long life."

Albert snorted. "I wonder then what pigs and rabbits will do for your lifespan."

At that, they all laughed, and once again, it was quiet amongst them, though Miles was sure Sir Ryen would have another story of laying with some strange creature later. Maybe a bird this time...though I'd be more impressed than anything in that case...

There was a sign in the road that pointed northwest, and said Greensfield. They were close, and the thought of stew with bits of beef and carrots in it and warm fluffy bread made Miles near salivate. Perhaps I ought to convince Sir Bayer of staying the night at the inn there...

*****

The forests and lands of the Emerald Groves seemed like a different world to Miles; a majestic world of the rich and saturated colors of earth and life. Greens and browns collided with one another to create the largest and most fertile region in all of Jorden. Within the center of the Groves lay the heart of the sprawling woodland kingdom, the town of Greensfield, the second most populous village in all of Jorden and the ruling seat of the Granmund family.

Surely there is someone in this damn town that has seen or heard of something

Their horses beat the path beneath their hooves as they approached the village, and there was an unusual chill in the air, Miles noticed, a coldness unbecoming of a warm summer day. It felt amazing against his warm and sun ravaged skin, but in the back of his mind, it worried him. He knew this seasonal anomaly to be the work of something not human.

"Do you feel that chill?" Miles asked Bayer.

Bayer nodded. "Snowstorms blow in from the north from time to time, even the midst of our summers."

"Yes, but never this far south. The air is far to warm for any snow or chill to survive."

"Is this the work of the elves, then?"

Miles swallowed down a lump that had been building up in his throat. He remembered the young and thin elven male Valyn summoning winter from his fingertips, shooting darts of it at the cursed ones, sealing off doorways and passages with thick blocks of ice. This has to be his work, Miles thought. "It has to be. There was one among them who could conjure ice from nothing." Will he freeze us solid should we find them?

Bayer grunted. "We must be close then." He looked towards the rear where his men trotted behind him and Miles. "Eyes sharp, men. We're close."

Miles felt a different chill settle over him, one not like the coldness in the air, but rather as if someone were watching him. He felt as if the trees had eyes, as if the wind whispered, as if his mind wasn't his own; as if the elves had seized control of it.

He tried to remember them, to conjure their faces in his mind. The boy, Valyn, came to him first. A thin and spry thing he was, with the high cheekbones and a strong jaw that could only come from a noble bloodline. Their uncle, Tyren, told them they were eleven royalty, that Valyn was a prince and his sister a princess. They certainly had the looks to be.

The sister came to him next. Ayranne, he remembered was her name. She reminded him of a cat. Cats were everywhere in Elderstone, prowling the streets, sleek and black with eyes that gave away nothing. Her eyes were much like that, he remembered. Her eyes of molten gold, flecked with chips of onyx. He could feel them, her eyes, or maybe he thought he could. His stomach growled again, the little beast within growing hungrier and hungrier. Gods damn it, I need to eat something. That's all it is, just hunger...Gods, this forest has made a mess of my mind

"The town is just up ahead!" Sir Bayer shouted from the front of the column as the buildings and homes of Greensfield came into view. Something seemed off about the village, Miles noticed. He didn't hear a sound. Villages were always full of life, of laughter and conversation, but he heard nothing. Only the lonely wind howling through the trees.

Then he noticed the trees. The leaves were blue, frozen in sheens of ice, solid and unmoving. Miles felt his throat tighten, and suddenly, his appetite abandoned him once more. "Something is not right here..."

Bayer looked around uneasily. "You're right, Sir Vallyrian. Something is certainly amiss..."

They rode further into the village in silence, and suddenly, the dirt turned to ice, cracks and spiderwebs running through the surface. Bayer turned back to his men. "Be on your guard!"

They all met the hilts of their swords with their hands, and the hair stood up on each of their necks. No one said a word, not even Sir Ridgewood. All Miles could hear was the howling of the wind.

When the center of the village came into full view, Miles felt his heart sink. Ice crept over and swallowed everything; buildings, trees, carts, people. They were everywhere, husks of ice, frozen screams and frozen tears.

Finally, Sir Vanni spoke, and it was the first time Miles had ever heard him speak. "What could have done this?"

Miles shivered as the boy came back to him, the one with the golden eyes and black hair who's touch was as icy as the northern seas. Only he could have done something like this. Miles turned back to face him. With fearful eyes and a quiver in his voice he only whispered, "An elf."