Opheira snorted. “Took them leaf-heads this long to release something so blatant as that?” She leaned up against the wall, “We realized that almost as soon as the hell-cursed battle ended. But we were broken and scattered. Twenty years we spent trying to reach our sisters… and now you come waltzing into our home… I am guessing you have a story to tell. Just over a week ago, the blue-blue-skinned wretches suddenly disappeared, and now you come waltzing into our home. I assume you are also the ones who went traipsing through Maelgrum yesterday?”
I was taken aback. That the Wild Elves had seen through the Shadow Elves so much quicker than the Wood Elves was surprising to me, but I guess coming from different initial places, probably with differing degrees of focus from Kathra and her saboteurs, made sense.
“Yes, we have been checking every city we knew of to try and find you,” I explained.
“Well, now that you have, I for one am keen to get out of the open. Come, we’ll discuss in the relative safety in our homes.” Opheira declared.
“Are you sure-” Brahim began, but he quieted down when Opheira glared at him.
“Oh, come now, young man. Surely, you can’t still think they mean us harm.” She chastised him. “They did no harm to Svurin or Kinkair, and even let you off with not so much as a scratch when you tried to do them harm. Words are air, but those actions speak volumes.”
“He was afraid for his family, and we were able to de-escalate before things got too out of hand,” I assured her.
“Thank heavens for that. Now, come, come.” The aged elf declared and motioned to us as she walked back into the ally.
Not the house? I wondered, but as I walked around the corner, a lot of things suddenly made sense.
The Wild Elf elder was descending stairs beneath a solid square of earth, plants, and a good six inches of topsoil lifted to reveal the hidden space. Two elven battle matrons underneath manned what looked like a pulley system to open the hidden passageway.
“You were right, Master.” Tavorwen mused. “There was more going on.”
The two she-elves at the bottom of the adobe stairs regarded us with suspicion, especially Amura, as we entered, but presented no actual objections. Irsivir, Risavis’s wolf, was able to squeeze in, though barely.
“Of all the reckless… Opheira, what madness are you inflicting on us now? By Elglathar’s mare, it’s a wonder you haven’t killed… us… all… perhaps I spoke too soon.” A second elder walked into the room, her feet stopping as her eyes locked on my party.
“Hello, we’re here from-” I began, but she cut me off.
“Why in the Eleven HELLS is there a Shadow Elf in our halls?!” This new elder cut me off.
“Oh, hush.” Opheira snapped. “I was trying to find that out myself.”
“Have you lost your MIND?!” The new elder shrieked. “You’ve killed us all…”
“I promise we come in peace!” I assured her.
“Like Hells you have!” She countered.
“Quiet down before you embarrass yourself further.” Opheira snipped. “You can see the slave mark on her neck as clear as I can. If you haven’t noticed the matching Master sigil on his hand, you truly are losing your edge. Now, before you go causing enough havoc to ACTUALLY compromise our location, let’s hear how this strange male came to be in possession of a Shadow Elf slave and… a gaggle of matrons if I’m not reading things incorrectly.”
This drew the second elder up short. Her eyes narrowed.
“Speak, before we defend our homes.” The new elder snapped.
“And yes, we know you are representatives of the High Elves, come to seek peace and all that. Tell us, what has happened?” Opheira demanded, leaning in with interest.
“Oh boy.” I breathed.
Opheira was clearly eccentric by elven standards but had made this easier, somewhat for me. I glanced at Tavorwen, who just gave a shooing motion to go on.
“Alright, well, I guess my part in this story starts about… two weeks ago…” I began.
Once I had related, as best I could, everything that had happened up until this point, trying to be concise, I took a deep breath.
“Absolutely preposterous.” The second elder snapped. “You expect us to believe that you, essentially on your own, turned the tide against Kathra and single-handedly brought about a Respite?”
“His story does fit the timeline we know,” Opheira noted. “And come now, Eaphra, is it truly so preposterous? If he is indeed a summon, the least he should be expected to do is change the shape of the war. And if his claims of the effectiveness of his weapon are to be believed, requiring time to adapt could require the time a Respite would buy.”
“But countering such simple weapons would be easy.” Brahim, who had joined us quickly after we descended below the soil, dismissed. “It would be the same magic as that to protect against our slings. Would it not?”
“What?” I asked numbly.
“It is true, if your weapons fire metal projectiles, like an arrowhead without a shaft, the same protective wards that protect against the bows of the High Elves and our slings would protect against your ‘bullets’ as you call them.” Opheira agreed, “It is a simple magic, but… Only if you know it must be employed.
My blood ran cold. There was a simple magic that could stop my bullets cold in their tracks? If my firearms were made useless…
“Luckily for you, it sounds as though Kathra and her ilk have yet to discover the nature of your weapons. Though I am confused as to why, surely they can see the projectiles coming.” Opheira pondered.
“Because they move faster than the eye can follow.” Risavis asserted. “It is as though they reach their target in an instant.”
“Fascinating…” Opheira marveled.
There was a moment as both Wild Elf Elders thought.
“So, you come more in search of allies in your fight against Kathra than actually seeking to aid us. Typical…” Eaphra sighed.
“It isn’t an unreasonable thought.” Opheira countered. “Given the amount of information we have regarding the state of the High Elves, or any of our other sisters, we must assume they lack information about us in equal measure.”
“But to send such a paltry force and believe-” Eaphra began.
“That their sisters who have survived on the plains for countless generations have continued to do so? That they had such faith in us is actually heartwarming if you think about it.” Opheira countered, cutting her off.
My gut sank.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
The elders turned their gaze on me.
“What?” Opheira queried.
“You said it was an assumption, and one that placed great faith in you, that you were surviving.” I pointed out. “You are hiding underground, and the way you said that… Well, it’s clear the Wild Elves aren’t doing well. I want to help. How bad is it?”
Eaphra’s lips tightened.
Opheira sighed, “Well, you have seemed to be honest with us so I’ll give you the same privilege. Of the former 73 Hratha of the Wild elves, 17 remain, assuming none of those have fallen in the last 2 years. All of our cities are laid waste, though six still hold underground Creches like this one. The herds of banthir have been decimated both by Kathra’s butchers and by the influx of kanegs. The only reason we have not starved at this point is, by Noriva’s mercy, our magic still has the strength to supply our base needs, but we cannot rely on these magics for much longer. The land we draw out magics from can only support such reliance for so long.”
“We are well enough!” Hissed Eaphra.
“Crepka dung.” Opheira snapped. “On our own, we last one more winter, two at most. Unless you plan on relying on the ley lines miraculously turning out of order to come and replenish the lands?”
“We will adapt! We will survive!” Eaphra insisted.
“And how did that work for the other Hratha?” Opheira retorted.
“What is a Hratha?” I asked in confusion.
“A Hratha is one of our families,” Opheira informed me with a chuckle. “They were quite large, in days past… though they have been… reduced somewhat by Kathra and her forces.”
“Like a tribe or a clan?” I asked.
Eaphra gave a disgusted huff, but Opheira just chuckled. “Not so primitive as that, but… more or less.”
73 great clans of the Wild Elves… reduced to 17, and those were hurting, if not crippled by the sound of it.
The talk of the magic of the land struggling was new to me.
“You said something about the magic of the land running out? I didn’t know it could do that.” I noted.
“You think magic is some omnipotent cure-all? No. Every spell draws its energy from somewhere, and only the slimmest amount comes from the mage.” Opheira informed me with amusement. “Some spells draw their strength from the planes. Fire spells draw their strength from the Plane of Fire, for example. But there is no ‘Plane of Food’… as convenient as that would be. No, food conjured draws its energy from the surrounding lands, and while the forests of Ealphamir teem with enough life to support such magics, the plains upon which we make our home are much less blessed in that regard.”
“There is life enough in Plains of Loefiar!” Eaphra insisted.
“There is life as plentiful as the sense you speak.” Opheira snapped. “Little and what is there is fading.”