"We've arrived, at last, Vín."

Vínmorr turned to Kherr Prochk, who had just brought his stallion alongside Shígra. The horse tossed its head in displeasure, releasing a sharp, whistling exhale through his nostrils. Shígra let loose a low growl, but otherwise ignored the horse and rider.

The Kherr laughed at Vínmorr's disinterest.

"You don't seem so pleased. I, for one, am looking forward to a nice soak after this long, dusty journey. I don't see the appeal in all this war business. All it means is hard travelling, eating scraps, and weeks of waiting. But the worst part is–"

"None of your precious harlots."

Kherr Prochk clutched his chest with a dramatic flair, as though the very thought had brought deep heartache.

"It is a tragedy. If it weren't for all the glory and riches I'll get at the end of this, I wouldn't even bother coming."

Vínmorr lifted a brow ridge.

"The fact that you would be executed for treachery doesn't play a role in your decision?"

"That is but a minor risk that comes with our occupation." Prochk waved his hand, dismissing the topic.

Returning his gaze to the front, Vínmorr watched the banners of the encampment drift lazily in the breeze. Their dark gray faces nearly blended into the mountains the tents were nestled against. The corner of his mouth dipped in displeasure.

Two weeks had passed since Vínmorr left Chírek with Movv Khaia and Kherr Prochk. Together they had journeyed south to Resh Mógrak in the Khírim Forest. There, Khaia explained that the shekk whom Vínmorr would be replacing had been executed for traitorous acts. What those acts were, Khaia did not divulge.

The forces that Vínmorr would be leading had already arrived at the encampment near the eastern border of Fekklorn. When Vínmorr had requested that he be permitted to travel ahead, Khaia had smiled and shook his head as if speaking to a child.

"You yet require some tutelage," Movv Khaia had said. "I would make a poor leader if I sent you ahead without first assisting you."

From the time they had departed Resh Mógrak, Vínmorr felt certain it had simply been a ploy to observe him and ensure he did not attempt to flee. Khaia was a constant presence, ever looming in the shadows or watching from among the marching ranks.

Even now, within sight of the encampment, Vínmorr was certain he felt Movv Khaia's eyes upon him. He glanced over his shoulder, sweeping his gaze over the legions under Kherr Prochk's command.

He heard a sharp growl from Shígra in unison with Movv Khaia's voice.

"Looking for something, in particular?"

Vínmorr shifted his gaze to the left. He turned his head a little farther so that he could view Movv Khaia with his good eye. The Movv studied him. Vínmorr nodded his head in greeting and spoke.

"I was observing the lay of the land. Should the Narenthians come to hinder our entrance, I want to know how we might use the surroundings to our advantage."

Khaia's eyes glimmered. He lifted his chin and turned to face the front. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. At last, Movv Khaia glanced at Vínmorr – barely turning his head – and spoke.

"Akkheron is, indeed, most wise. Your kind are far more intelligent than those brainless brutes that he first created. You almost behave like an elf."

Vínmorr chose to ignore the jab and returned his gaze to the encampment ahead. As they drew closer, he felt a growing sense of dread.

Too many elves, he thought. Perhaps I can fall back and remain on the outskirts.

Khaia, however, had other plans.

"Come, you shall introduce yourself to the others."

Movv Khaia spurred his mount into a gallop, much to the white charger's dismay. His horse leapt forward with a shake of its head and a small kick. With another jab to the horse's flank, Khaia forced the poor beast into submission.

Vínmorr clenched his jaw and coaxed Shígra into a sprint to catch up to the movv.

Together, they came to the edge of the encampment. When those on patrol saw Movv Khaia, they saluted and stepped aside. Khaia slowed his horse to a trot just before entering the encampment and led Vínmorr to the center of the tents.

When they arrived, three elves exited the main pavilion. Khaia dismounted and strode toward them. They all saluted, and then the three shifted their gazes to Vínmorr. Their open stares revealed curiosity.

"So, this is the one, eh?" The center elf – a broad male with russet hair – crossed his arms.

Vínmorr alighted Shígra and came to stand before the elves.

"I certainly hope you've trained him well, Khaia." A thin elf with straight, black hair and a narrow face revealed a frown.

"Fear not, Vornekk Roshtonath. He wouldn't dare defy The Serpent."

"You'd better take care, demon-spawn." Vornekk Roshtonath looked up to address Vínmorr. "Unless you want to share Graavin's fate, you'd be wise to obey your masters."

Vínmorr saluted. Nodding his head, he addressed the Vornekk – a rank above Movv.

"Your word shall be law, mighty Vornekk. Defiance is the route to destruction."

Roshtonath smiled and glanced at Movv Khaia.

"I see you have been hard at work on this one." The Vornekk returned his gaze to Vínmorr. "My word is law, but I depart on the morrow. Here me, then; obey Khaia. His word, which shall be from me, will be as law to you. Any sign of contempt will be met with swift and harsh punishment."

Vínmorr saluted again. Vornekk Roshtonath signaled for Movv Khaia to follow him, and the two entered the pavilion. Having been given no instruction, Vínmorr remained standing before the other two elves.

The elf who had yet to utter a word took a step closer to Vínmorr. Donned in a dark, hooded cloak, his face was difficult to see. At last, the elf turned back to his companion and spoke. His voice was quiet and deep, sounding like the mournful howl of wind in a distant mountain pass.

"What are we to call this new Shekk?"

The first elf that had spoken, the broad one, laughed. "Leave it to you to concern yourself with the name of an elandhin."

"Those under his authority will need to address him, will they not?" said the hooded elf.

"Very well," said the first. "I am Kherr Shamma and this is Kherr Shrómifk. What's your name, demon-spawn?"

"Vínmorr, Kherr Shamma." He saluted once more.

"Vínmorr?" Shamma exhaled a bark of laughter. "Doesn't exactly instill terror, does it? But I guess your appearance makes up for that. Will you even be able to lead your forces?"

Shamma moved farther to Vínmorr's left. He waved his hand near Vínmorr's eye and spoke again.

"Blindness will surely see you a corpse on the field of battle."

"I can still see you." Vínmorr crossed his arms. "Only my left eye is blind; my right works without problem."

Shamma flinched and dropped his hand. Vínmorr saw a small grin from Shrómifk's shadowed face.

"Making friends already, Vín?" Kherr Prochk approached, saluting Shamma and Shrómifk. "You'll have to forgive him, Kherrs. Vínmorr's more the studious type; not accustomed to socializing. Spends all his days researching some secret subject and befriending lerecht."

Frowning, Vínmorr glanced down at Prochk. The Kherr stood on the tips of his feet and tried draping his arm over Vínmorr's shoulders. The height difference proved too great, and Vínmorr was able to dislodge Prochk with a quick shrug.

"All the same," began Kherr Shrómifk, "Shamma's right. We can't have our troops being led by a 'mountain shadow'. He'll need to be called by a different name."

Vínmorr looked to Kherr Prochk, who shrugged.

"It's a rite of passage," said Prochk. "A leader must instill fear: in those he leads, and in those he will face in battle. Many of the highly ranked elves have changed their names."

"You changed yours?" Vínmorr asked.

Prochk grinned, puffing his chest out and placing a hand to it.

"I was fortunate enough to already have a name that fills an elf with dread just to hear it. Didn't need to change my name. But many others do."

Grunting, Vínmorr returned his attention to Kherr Shrómifk, who held a hand to his chin as he contemplated.

"Of course, you ought to stick to a name derived from Veshtírian; you are a northerner, after all."

"Perhaps Shkrishka would work." Shamma bellowed in laughter and dodged Shrómifk's fist.

"Daft fool. Not only does it not instill fear, that name lacks originality. Any idiot can see that he has a scar on his face." Kherr Shrómifk crossed his arms. "Mayhap something like Lórfgron."

"Bloody sword? Oh, no, that wouldn't suit Vín at all. His weapon of choice is the griddikh." Prochk shook his head, gesturing to the large blade that was designed for heavy, chopping motions.

Each of the elves took turns thinking of a name for Vínmorr. No one seemed to agree, nor did they seem to remember that the one whom they were naming was standing before them. His opinion seemed of little consequence to the elves.

Vínmorr had just determined to interrupt the three when Prochk made a suggestion that received a severe reaction from the other two.

"I have it; Morrvorsht." Prochk beamed at what he seemed to think was a clever name selection.

Kherr Shrómifk swept toward Prochk and struck the back of his head with a fist.

"Blasphemy," he whispered. "No one would dare name themselves after The Serpent."

Prochk's face paled and he glanced toward the pavilion where Movv Khaia and Vornekk Roshtonath still talked. After some further discussion, it was decided that Vínmorr should be addressed as Drgogaal – Demon.

Kherrs Shamma, Shrómifk, and Prochk started toward an open area where a slab of meat was being roasted over a large fire. The group that lingered about the flames consisted entirely of elves. A small gathering of elaborathin sat near the outermost edge of the space.

"Aren't you coming?" Kherr Prochk hollered over his shoulder.

Vínmorr looked to the gathering of elves and then to the three kherrs.

"Movv Khaia has given me no orders. I'll stay here."

"You can always tell the new recruits," Shamma said through a snicker. "I give 'im a week; he'll be just as lax as the rest."

"Not likely," Prochk countered. "You see, poor Vín there's got this peculiar way about him. I've known him since my days in training; he's much the same now as he was then. Not the sort to change, our Drgogaal."

The three turned again to leave, but as they walked away from Vínmorr he heard Prochk elaborating on his thoughts.

"You see, it seems he's got this notion that he's gotta hold himself above all others of his kind. It's as if he thinks he ought to be treated like an elf, so he's doing everything in his power to surpass the rest of the brutes The Serpent has created."

"When the Serpent loses his venom," said Kherr Shamma, with a shake of his head.

Three quarters of an hour later, Movv Khaia exited the pavilion. By his momentary hesitation upon seeing Vínmorr, the elandhin thought Khaia was surprised. However, the movv's face remained inscrutable.

"It would seem you are trainable, after all."

Vínmorr clenched his jaw. When he made no remark, Movv Khaia gestured for him to follow.

"Come, I'll introduce you to some of your Shekk-rima."

Together, they strode past the far end of the central tent, and down a dusty road. Shígra padded in silence behind Vínmorr, following her master on instinct. They took the path to the far end of the encampment – quite near the lower slopes of the mountains. In the North-eastern corner, Khaia halted and called to a passing elf.

"Kkorrik," said he, waiting for the tawny-skinned elf to face him. "Call for the other Shekk-rima."

Kkorrik nodded his head and departed. Meanwhile, Khaia led Vínmorr into a spacious tent near the road they had taken. Vínmorr signaled for Shígra to lie down and ducked through the entrance. The thick, charcoal-coloured fabric of the tent blocked out much of the waning daylight.

"It would seem your lackey failed to prepare the tent for your arrival." Movv Khaia swore as he stumbled over an unseen obstacle. "You would be wise to heed my advice; the moment he arrives, dole out punishment. The harsher the discipline, the less likely you are to have insubordination in your ranks."

Though there was little light, Vínmorr's eye had adjusted with ease. He side-stepped Movv Khaia and lifted a sagging candle from its perch atop a small desk. This he brought outside and – using a near-by lantern – ignited the wick. Once he had done this, Vínmorr returned to the tent and lit the small lantern that hung from the center support pole.

Now that a warm light filled the tent, Vínmorr studied his new 'home'. It was furnished with a cot-style bed that was covered with disheveled bedding, the table upon which the candle had sat, and a large, wood chest with lid ajar. The earthen floor was littered with what Vínmorr presumed were the contents of the trunk; clothing, battle-worn armour, scrolls and papers, even a small wooden box with ornate carvings.

"I apologize for the state of your tent. It's true that the execution was rather sudden, but this is unacceptable."

"I'll handle it, Movv Khaia."

At Vínmorr's rumbled words, the movv straightened and turned toward him. His eyes bored into Vínmorr, as if in search of some dark secret. Just as Khaia seemed about to say something, a voice called from outside the tent. He gestured for Vínmorr to follow and exited.

Author's note: This chapter has been revised (as of 2021-05-22)