Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [68]
"Why does that surprise you?"
Leifander shook his head. "Your father said you knew nothing of the forest elves-nothing about our people- until a few months ago. Why would one of the high druids of the sacred circle take you under her wing?"
"Our father, you mean," she corrected him.
Leifander dismissed that with an impatient wave.
"Rylith says that twins with hazel eyes are favored of the gods," she continued, "and that their birth is an omen of good fortune to come. You and I have a… a special destiny."
Leifander merely nodded. Any child could have told him that. Who did this human think she was, to parrot back to him his own people's lore? He frowned at the wall, not looking at her. Yet despite himself, he listened.
"Rylith says our half-sister Somnilthra prophesied that we would heal a great rift. Ryhth says this rift is the one between human and elf-the one that led to this war."
Leifander quickly turned his head. "The High Council has declared war?"
"Yes, but Rylith says there's still time to stop it-some action that you and I can take that will prevent the war from happening. I must confess, I haven't a clue what it might be."
Leifander shook his head. "Why would we want to stop the war?"
That seemed to surprise her. It took Larajin a moment to find her voice. When she did, her tone was incredulous.
"Because… people will die." When he shrugged, she quickly added, "And not just humans. The war could wipe out the forest elves and raze the forest."
"Nonsense," Leifander retorted. "The humans will never defeat us. They can't even see in the dark. Some of us may fall, but the forest will remain ours forever."
Above them, a wagon rumbled over the grate, then stopped, blocking the sunlight.
"Why don't you care if there's a war?" Larajin asked, her voice rising in exasperation. "There must be someone you love, someone you don't want to see killed."
Leifander lowered his eyes. "She's already dead."
It had been said in a whisper, more to himself than to Larajin, but she'd heard him nonetheless. Her expression changed in an instant.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
He glared at her. "Humans killed her. Red Plumes, from Hillsfar. She ventured too close to their city, and they tried to capture her for their 'games.' I'm told she died bravely, killing two of them before she herself was slain."
Pride should have flared in his heart, but the pain was still too new. Chandrell had been his first love-worshiped from afar since she was a woman of fifty-eight years, and he a mere boy of twenty-one. Officially, he had yet to reach maturity, though the blood of a man already flowed hot in his veins. When she'd kissed him on the cheek after he'd done her a slight favor, he'd vowed to ask her to leap the bough with him, once he was at last old enough. He had prayed to his goddess that she would find no other lover before then.
Chandrell had been killed more than two years ago, but thinking of her still made his eyes sting. He'd succeeded in damping down his emotions all that time, but they squeezed out in the form of a single tear.
"I'm sorry," Larajin said softly, "but it would seem your quarrel is with Hillsfar, not with Sembia."
"It's with humansl" Leifander snapped, angrily wiping the tear away. They should all be put to the sword."
Then you might as well start with yourself," she spat back. "Or at least, half of yourself." She thrust a hand out, offering the magic dagger. "Here. Be my guest."
Leifander knocked her hand aside. This stupid woman was missing the point. Humans-Sembians, specifically-started the war with their magical depredations upon the forest. They had been the ones to break the ancient pact, and now they had to pay. If it meant a war, so be it. The elves would give a good accounting of themselves. Even if they were outnumbered, they would be
fighting in the forest, on their own terms. The forest would protect them-and they would protect it, in turn.
"Your people understand nothing of pride, of honor," he told her. "That's what this war