The gentle light of dawn caressed my face and awoke me from the pleasant slumber of the night. I opened my eyes and stretched against the cradle of my hammock before swinging out of the elevated bed and standing. There was a deep chill in the air and my feet cringed against the wood floor of my cottage.
There was an iron stove a few steps away in the kitchen and shortly I had a fire in its belly to warm water for tea. I prepared the rest of my breakfast just as easily, with a few eggs from the hens I kept and some thick strips of salted bacon from the hog I butchered at the start of the winter. The air had carried the smell of spring for the last few weeks, and while I welcomed the warmth, the long list of tasks the season brought was exhausting to even consider.
I slid my hot breakfast off of the iron skillet and onto a dish and sipped the pine lemon tea. I was surprised that my rooster had not woken me. He normally cried out as the sun crested the sky, but I had not heard a peep out of him during the time I cooked my breakfast. I feared foxes might have gotten into my chicken coop and killed the birds, but I waited until I finished eating before putting on clothes and investigating.
The morning sun was out in full glory and I stretched against its heat when I stepped out of my stone cottage. I let out a breath of steamy air and surveyed the glade I had chosen to inhabit for the last ten years.
My home sat on the crest of a gentle hill that backed into a grove of pine and maple trees. At the bottom of a grassy slope on the south side was the small river that ran smooth and straight for half a mile in either direction. On the north, east, and west sides of my glade were the steep rocky slopes of the Intirli Mountains. The river eventually led to a small lake that in turn mixed with a fjord before passing into the sea.
My land was part of the Tearnoll Peninsula that lay hundreds of miles west of my father’s estate. The area was of little strategic consequence, and was thought to be too challenging to explore because of the mountains, so it was uninhabited except for a tiny tribe of Elven people that called themselves the Kinntri. They knew little about me as I only came to their village once a year to trade for various supplies or livestock. The journey to their homes would come with the spring and I already had the list of goods I needed thought out and written.
I inhaled deeply of the glade air and savored the taste of the dew-blessed grass, the ice-capped mountains, and the pine trees scattered within the mile. The morning breeze also carried the scent of my garden, orchards, chickens, goats, pigs, and the dozen small cattle I bred for sustenance. I knew each one by scent and the single breath of air confirmed that my rooster was still alive, though he had not given his morning call.
Then I realized why he had not sung.
I dove back into my cottage and slid across the wooden floor of the single room. It had taken me a month to build the place by hand after half a year of gathering, cutting, and treating the various rocks, timber, and thatch that made up its bones. I knew every square inch of the cottage, but it had been too long since I had handled my swords and my fingers were clumsy when I tried to pry up the panel that hid my weapons.
How did they find me?
It felt like a year had passed but it was probably only three seconds that elapsed before the closest sword in the pile was removed from the oil cloth and secured in my hand. I debated locking the door, or trying to make an escape, but their scent was too familiar in my nose now and I cursed myself for allowing my paranoia to fade with the passing years. I knew they would come for me eventually and I also knew they would bring the only person who could track me.
“You had best come out, Sister.” Her voice rang like a lark’s across the back of my cottage and through the thick stone of the walls. “There is no use hiding. We’ve been here for two hours.”
I crouched low and contemplated my options. I guessed there were only four or five with her. Perhaps she would send them in to take me first and I could deal with them and then confront Nyarathe alone. Maybe I could convince her to leave me or even live here with me in peace. She may have been forced to come find me by the tribes.
“You are embarrassing yourself now. I’m not here for the reasons you think I am, so just come out.” My sister almost never let emotion into her voice, but I sensed her frustration. I reached down past the floorboard and grabbed the scabbard to my sword. Then I wrapped the sword belt around my waist with my free hand, sheathed the blade, and sighed before walking out again.
There were six of them, including my beloved sister and Relyara. I felt a strange mix of anger and excitement upon seeing my sister and lover again for the first time in so many years. I knew the two women loved me and probably had been coerced into chasing after me, but it still seemed a betrayal that they had helped lead the others to me. The entire group looked worn and haggard. I guessed that the passage through the mountains was not easy on them, and I almost felt a tiny portion of remorse for taking such pains to live in such a distant location.
“By the Dead Gods it is good to see you again, Iolarathe!” My sister took a few steps toward me. I raised my hand and shook my head.
“No love for me?” She tilted her head and her usual stoic expression cracked with a frown of sadness.
“No. I . . .” My mouth struggled to form words and I realized I had not spoken to another person in longer than I could remember. I had some interaction with Elvens every year when I visited Kinntri, but I almost never spoke when I delivered my list and paid for the wares. I had even stopped talking to my own livestock years ago and the thought of forming words outside of my head suddenly made me feel inept and frantic.
“We traveled countless miles, endless days to see you, Mistress.” Relyara stood next to my sister and I didn’t doubt the woman’s statement. They both appeared much as I remembered: Relyara with her bright blue eyes and hair a few shades darker; my half-sister’s skin tone was the same shade as mine, but her hair lacked any pigment and her eyes were black like the darkest of onyx. She looked like she was carved out of ice and her demeanor sometimes matched the frigid element.
I wasn’t sure how many years had passed since I had seen either one of them. The sight and scent of Nyarathe made my heart beat faster and it hurt to realize how much I missed my sibling. She smelled of oranges and limes, she was as happy to see me as I was to see her.
“How did you find me?” The words came to my mouth as if I was chewing on almonds while I spoke. The sound of my voice was strange, as if someone else spoke. I wondered if this was just a dream and I would wake up alone in my hammock in a few minutes, the dream slowly dissipating from my memory as I went about my morning chores.
“It was not easy. You sent me on a wild hunt. Perhaps it is a tale best told over a meal. Would you honor us with some food? Our provisions have run short, and while game in this little valley of yours looks plentiful, the passage over the mountains was quite a hardship.” She smiled and I felt my nerves relax slightly.
“Yes. I already cooked breakfast, but I have half of last winter’s pig salted and stored. If you can take that wood and prepare a fire, I’ll ready it for roasting.” These two sentences were somewhat easier to speak, but I had to search for each word and I tasted the air for their responses to ensure they meant me no harm. The four other Elvens with Relyara and Nyarathe were split between male and female. They wore the uniform of my mother’s lands, but they were careful to avoid eye contact with me.
“We were already out here when you began cooking, Sister.” Nyarathe nodded and crossed her arms. “I am surprised you didn’t notice.” She was always quick to point out flaws, but I normally found more wrong with her than she with me. A thought flew into my head like a hummingbird and I wondered if she was that way because I had always been so critical of her.
“They will prepare the fire if you show me to the pig, Mistress. I can take care of the food preparation.” Relyara floated between us and then gestured toward my cottage. I nodded and took a few steps backward before finding the doorway and stepping inside.
“How long have you lived here?” Relyara whispered once she entered my dwelling. My sister voiced instructions to her escorts and they began to build a cooking fire.
“I forget. Once upon a time I tracked the passage of days, but after I came to this place I stopped.” I opened the door to the cellar. Relyara descended and let out a small gasp. The space was roughly three times the size of my cottage and half-filled with cured meats, jars of pickled vegetables, and bottles of cider. It smelled pleasantly of cedar, salt, and the molasses I used to preserve my food.
“How did you make all this?” She reached up and carefully brushed her hands across a large jar of pickled beets and cauliflower. Her stomach growled and I wondered how difficult the trek across the mountain pass had really been.
“I am effective with my time. There is much to do every day and I milk every second from the sun.” I took down the shank of pig I intended to serve and nodded over to the far corner of the cellar. “Take that jar of pickled vegetables and a few bottles of cider and mead from that corner; the ones farthest away are the best.” I took a jar of pickled cucumbers and then climbed the small set of stairs. Once Relyara followed me out I shut the small trap door and we exited the cottage.
“Cook this.” I handed the salted pork to one of the warriors preparing the fire. She nodded and began to skewer it with the spit they must have packed in their travel gear.
“Pass these around.” I gave the jar of pickled cucumbers to another guard and then motioned for Relyara to hand me the bottled drinks. I uncorked each one and carefully inhaled their first fumes. Their scents were sweet, spiced, and held no hint of contamination. I took the first sip out of each bottle before passing the mead back to Relyara and the cider to my sister.
“This has to be the finest bottle of cider I have ever enjoyed.” My sister almost trembled with pleasure at the second sip and then took two more deep swigs of the brew before the scent of desire from the other warriors forced her to pass the jug along. “How did you craft such divine liquid?”
“I’ve learned during my travels.” I pointed to one of the men and the stack of firewood behind him. He quickly made me a seat and I perched behind Relyara. She had taken position over the cooking fire and spun the hunk of meat lazily on the spit.
“I imagine you have. Your letter led me on quite a chase.” The smile that the cider brought to her face faded instantly and I smelled the bitter vegetable rot scent of fear from the gathered men and women.
“That was my plan.” I spoke slowly and the words continued to feel alien against my lips. I already guessed what my sister wanted. The only question in my mind was determining if she would use force to take it from me.
“That is what I told them. They didn’t believe me though, and they sent trackers to find you in the desert. They searched for a few years, but no one found you. Then they asked me to look. I declined of course, but the pressure they put on our mother was fierce and I was forced to relent.” The bottle of mead made its way to her and she placed her perfect lips to the jug before taking a long drink.
“This is also excellent. Of course you excel at everything you attempt.” She shook her head at her own words and I tasted another scent of bitterness in the air.
“I searched for five years and found no trace of you. Not in the desert, not in your father’s lands. Relyara joined me, but despite her intimate knowledge of your last few years together, we had little success. It is fortunate that I enjoyed the process of searching, because it has consumed my life for years.”
Nyarathe was one of the few living people that I felt any love for, but I had no idea what had changed in the many years I had been removed from Elven civilization. Something about this meeting was strange, and while I could not place what it was, I trusted my instincts. They had saved me countless times.
“Let us eat and then we can speak more of why the six of us journeyed all the way here to find you.” She nodded to Relyara and began to slice pieces of meat and serve them to the other Elvens. I declined the food but took ample sips from the bottles when they reached me. The travelers were famished and in a few minutes they had devoured most of the pork and the pickled vegetables. My stores were plentiful enough that I could afford to serve them dozens of times over, but I waited to offer more food until my sister made her intentions clear.
“Thank you for the food, Mistress.” Relyara leaned back on her seat with a satisfied sigh. The others nodded their agreement, but no one else spoke for a few minutes. I realized I was behind on my chores and stood up and walked past the group to my chicken coop.
The birds cawed at my entrance and gathered around my feet while I spread the pine seeds, ground fish, and celery leaves that made up their meal. Then I found the twenty concealed eggs and cleaned up the various spots of feces with my birch broom. Later today I would journey down to the river where I had established a duck coop. I preferred their eggs to those from the chickens, but I learned many years ago how important it was to diversify a homestead’s food sources.
“I see it, but still cannot believe it.” My sister shook her head when I exited the cage with my apron full of eggs.
“The eggs?”
“No. Your domestication. This is more unexpected than anything else I could have envisioned you doing.”
“This lifestyle suits me. I enjoy the solitude and there is always work to occupy me.” I walked back to my cottage and deposited the eggs. I had more than enough for myself, it was fortunate for my guests that they had arrived this week. Three weeks ago we were still in the chill grip of winter and my hens had not been laying much.