Jay Olsen-Thrift

Elimere

Day 13, Month 11, Year 13,239

The suns began to set, and the townsfolk were already releasing their floating lanterns. Tonight, they would be flying dark blue and white for the return of the Elviri army. Munne Vere’cha, Warlord of the Elviri, led her troops into the valley of Elimere on the back of her gray mare. Dark circles clung underneath her eyes, a sharp contrast to her pale skin and bright blue eyes. Her black hair was pulled back and tied to keep it out of her face. A few strands of hair fell across her cheeks. As she and her soldiers entered the town, their eyes grew brighter, and they began to smile and cheer.

Munne’s latest campaign had taken longer than initially planned after two ambushes near the south edge of the Hourglass Lakes. Their supplies took the brunt of the first attack, almost as if the Provira were trying to cripple them instead of outright killing them. This set her return to Elimere back by at least two weeks. She had to gather more supplies from the Proma to the north before she could even think about crossing the Telatorr Mountains back into Elviri territory. The second ambush, though, claimed several lives of her soldiers, and Munne had to cede the supplies and land to the Provira’s forces to escape safely. They were lucky to return home before the oncoming winter.

The valley of Elimere was the capital seat of the Elviri. Nestled between three towering peaks, the valley offered a plethora of natural defenses. Its large river that poured in from the north could be traced all the way to the icy bay near Rymo-tehp, serving as a link between the Elviri of today and their gods of the Eldest Days.

Tonight, the valley would be filled with celebration and remembrance. Her troops who hadn’t made it back alive would be honored in the dining halls that night. Their bodies would be taken to the Hall of the Dead, where loved ones would be able to adorn them with flowers and gifts. In the morning, the disciples of Azrael would take their bodies to the forest and lay them to rest. For those who were still alive, there would be feasting, dancing, and drinking. Munne planned to escort the deceased to the Hall of the Dead, and then join the rest of her men at the main plaza where her fellow nobles had no doubt put together a magnificent event.

And I hope to miss most of it by staying at the Hall of the Dead, Munne thought as her troops passed underneath the main arch—the gateway to Elimere. The arch was really two towering trees that had been standing since the Eldest Days, their branches curved inward toward one another. Runes and protection wards had been carved into their bark over time. With winter fast approaching, gold and brown leaves fell like rain upon the road below.

The city of Elimere was the oldest city in all of Daaria. While not as large as the other cities within Elviri lands like Lithalyon or Elyr Tym, it was still beautiful and hosted many visitors during the warmer seasons. The older buildings were made from stone dating back to the Eldest Days, while the newer buildings were a blend of stone and wood. The wood, various cuts of timber and white cedar, offered contrast to the dark stone. Some of the wooden structures had been painted, to distinguish one from the other. Many of the shops and stores were painted with murals representing their crafts and trades. Elimere and Elifyn shared this tradition, while the towns in Elimaine chose to remain stark and unpainted.

Within the city the troops were greeted with clapping and cheering from the townspeople, which drowned out the rhythmic march that had kept her company for hours in the mountains. Streetlamps glowed softly all around, casting the wooden and stone buildings in warm light. Further inside the city Munne paused at a crossroads. One road led to the main plaza, and the other to the Hall of the Dead. She breathed in deeply and then led her horse to the left, stepping out of formation. Behind her were the other two members of her triple who would lead the living to the celebrations. The two Elviri urged their horses forward and the troops continued without her. From a distance, the sounds of flutes, harps, and drums drifted from the party. Munne smiled as she listened to the cheers and whoops of her troops. The walk to the Hall of the Dead would not be so boisterous.

As the last of the men and women left the crossroads toward the party, the deceased came carried in wagons led by priests of Azrael. The wagons were only present when returning home after a campaign. Scouts had been sent ahead to Elimere to let the priests of Azrael know how many caskets to prepare. They then escorted the priests to the edge of the Telatorr Mountains to meet with the troops and prepare the bodies of the dead for travel. When the troops entered the valley of Elimere, the dead had marched one last time with their brothers and sisters-in-arms.

The Hall of the Dead loomed ahead, its dark stones towering over all the other buildings in the city. The families of the deceased lined the streets, their reactions mixed. Some families were happy and prideful of their loved one’s service while others wept quietly. A few men and women sang softly to themselves while others laid down flowers and branches on the road. Munne was so familiar with the landscape before her that she could paint it with her eyes closed, down to the silhouettes of the mourners lining the streets. It did nothing to quell the storm brewing within her.

As the assembly approached the sacred structure, Munne spotted her mentor and the previous Warlord, Cesa, standing amidst the crowd. Streaks of gray ran through his dark auburn hair. He wore dark blue robes tied with a crimson sash. The emblem of the army was emblazoned on the back of his robes—a barren oak tree standing before the full moon. Although it had been a long time since he served as Warlord, he still wore the garb of the Elviri army. He was much older than Munne’s father, approaching his seven hundredth birthday. Cesa was the one who had taught Munne and her father everything they knew about strategy and the military. He had selected Munne to fill the role of Warlord when he stepped down close to fifty years ago. That had surprised Munne, as well as the other soldiers in her triple. Not that she lacked skill or ability, but there was much controversy behind the decision since Munne was the only child of the Se’vi. She was expected to take the Hunting Throne and rule over all the Elviri one day, and she would no longer be able to serve as the Warlord. Traditionally, an Elviri didn’t take on multiple ranks.

The assembly reached the Hall of the Dead. The structure had been erected during the Eldest Days when the gods still roamed the land. It belonged to Azrael, the god of war and death. Dark stones from the shores of western Elimaine had been used in its construction, giving the Hall its solemn aura. The foyer stood tall enough that Azrael could enter in his cosmic form, nearly six stories high. It had been thousands of centuries since Azrael walked among the Elviri, but the Hall continued to awe and inspire.

Munne’s horse ascended the stairs in front of the Hall of the Dead, and she was pulled out of her thoughts. Outside the Hall’s doors were several priests and acolytes ready to receive the caskets of the dead. It took the strength of four priests to open each door, revealing the foyer within. It was a plain room with sparse furnishings besides the hundreds of lit candles. Their glow filled the room with light, which spilled onto the stairs outside.

Azrael’s light washes over me, Munne thought with the smallest of smiles. Her mare let out a quiet snort—perhaps her own form of prayer.

A man dressed in black hooded robes emerged from within the Hall and approached Munne and her mare. He bowed his head and spread his arms.

“Welcome, Vere’cha. Today you bring the fallen ones of your army,” he said.

Munne bowed her head in turn and extended her hand down to the high priest, Valanir. “Today they will meet Azrael and walk through his quiet fields. They will rest.”

The high priest took her hand and gripped it tightly. His skin felt like warm leather beneath her touch. It brought her some small comfort. After a moment, he released her hand and said, “Today begins their final watch. Their loved ones will say their final goodbyes while you and yours stand vigil.”

Munne turned her mare around. The wagons had stopped at the base of the stairs, where they would be unloaded by the priests and carried inside. Within the Hall, the acolytes would lead the preparations for the bodies. They would place a candle and smoothstone on each casket, so that tomorrow the families of the deceased could paint their family sigils on the smoothstones. The stones would be placed on the ground above the caskets in the forest when they were laid for their final rest.

There were thirty-six caskets tonight.

A small gust of wind blew across the stairs as Munne gazed upon the caskets before her. Each of these Elviri gave their lives to her campaign in the war against the Provira. They were good Elviri who had hundreds of years left in their lives—hundreds of years to experience love and joy and be with their families. The bloody war had cost them their lives, and sorrow for so many others. Munne gritted her teeth, her hand tightening on the reins of her mare. There were thirty-six bodies before her, and yet the war with the Provira was no closer to ending.

How many more had to die before those cursed half-breeds would stop?

“Tonight, they begin their final watch.” the high priest called out to the assembly, his deep voice carrying on the wind.

The acolytes and priests echoed his words. “Tonight, they begin their final watch.” Slowly, quietly, they lifted the caskets and carried them up the stairs and into the Hall.

Munne swallowed, finding the action difficult, and she gently urged her mare to the side. Each of the thirty-six deceased Elviri passed by her and the high priest. Her gaze lingered on each casket, the knot in her throat tightening. This ceremony never got easier. She only hoped she wouldn’t attend another one any time soon.

After the last casket passed through the threshold, the doors were pulled shut with a quiet boom. The steps darkened and Munne felt the loss of the candlelight. The dead would need their preparations before their loved ones could see them. The priests would instruct the acolytes on how to prepare the bodies when their caskets would be opened to their families. Depending on the injuries, the bodies would be covered in a silk fabric. Perfumes and burial paint would be applied. All thirty-six Elviri had died a warrior’s death, so they would be marked with the traditional dark blue paint on their lips and the white stripes across their cheeks.

“Warlord Vere’cha, may I please accompany you to the stables?” Cesa’s raspy voice cut through Munne’s thoughts like a knife.

She turned her head to look at him, unaware that he had walked up the stairs to stand beside her. The streets of the town had emptied out as people headed toward the main plaza to celebrate with the living.

“Of course, please,” Munne murmured.

Cesa patted her mare’s neck gently, and then the two set off, his smooth oak cane tapping the ground with each step. He had sustained a grievous leg wound toward the end of his tenure as Warlord and now relied on his cane. Munne ensured her pace was slow enough to not strain Cesa too much.

“You kept your armor on for the parade?” Cesa asked, looking Munne over. “I would have thought you’d want to be out of that the minute you reached the valley.”

“It wouldn’t have been good form to dress down for the ceremony of the dead,” Munne answered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She looked down at her steel blue and silver armor. Although it wasn’t fresh, there were bloodstains spattered across the breastplate and greaves.

Perhaps it would have been better to change into some dress robes. That would have required time away from the parade and her men, though, and Munne wasn’t comfortable with that. She didn’t want to drag the ceremony on.

Cesa said nothing in response. They continued to walk in silence, and Munne was more than comfortable with that. Cesa might have been the only person who didn’t expect her to speak tonight. She would miss that when she joined the rest of her men at the plaza.

“How were things here while we were gone?” It was Munne’s turn to ask questions. She was supposed to have returned three weeks prior and had been without communications until a couple of days before she arrived at the valley.

“Your father continues to keep the peace,” Cesa said thoughtfully. Munne knew he wasn’t telling the full story, but it would be difficult to do so in such an open place. “As you should be doing tonight. Enjoy the peace.”

Munne laughed. “Tactful as ever, sa’vani. Will you be joining us in the celebration tonight?”

“I could be convinced to have a glass of wine or two,” Cesa muttered, smiling.

She laughed as they approached the stables closest to the Hall of the Dead. Munne dismounted from her horse and handed the reins to one of the stable hands, a young woman.

“Then let us have that glass of wine, or two… or three…” Munne grinned and came around to Cesa’s left side, locking arms with him. The two laughed together and walked back toward the main plaza.

Night had fallen on the valley in earnest, and the homes and businesses were lit up in warm torchlight. Mimicking the three mountain peaks that surrounded Elimere, there were three structures that towered over the rest of the town—the Hall of the Dead, the Meeting Spire, and the Manor of the Se’vi. The Hall stood behind them, and ahead to the southeast was the Meeting Spire. It stood like a shadowed giant on the horizon and blended in with the night sky, the light of the town unable to touch its higher floors. To the northwest was the manor, Munne’s home. Even from a distance she could see lights from all four floors. Unlike the other two imposing structures, the manor was built from pale wood much like the rest of the valley. It was flanked by two waterfalls, where the river split and tumbled into the valley. The main plaza where all festivities and celebrations occurred was near the center of Elimere, in between the three peaks and three towers.

As Munne and Cesa approached the main plaza, music filled the air. Members of the professional orchestra played joyous songs to welcome their troops home. Several Elviri danced, bringing much cheer to those seated at the feast tables. Blue and white flowers were strung up along the outer pillars, and lanterns hung in between. Tables lined the outer edges of the plaza on three sides with the orchestra taking up the fourth edge. Platters and jugs of food and drink filled the tables. Munne easily picked her soldiers out of the crowd because of their armor, and she saw that they were all full of joy and excitement. Every homecoming was like this, and she was glad for it. Her soldiers deserved moments of happiness amidst the war.

“Come, I think I see a couple of spaces we could sit at.” Cesa led Munne toward two empty chairs at a table further away from the orchestra. They would be able to hear each other speaking while sitting there.

Munne pulled one of the chairs back for Cesa before sitting down in her own chair. Cesa placed his cane against the table and reached for one of the decanters of wine. As he poured into a nearby glass, he nodded appreciatively, watching the golden liquid fill the glass.

“Ah, good. I’m glad they brought out the gold from Elifyn. It’s always a joyous celebration when they do.” Cesa put the decanter down and drank deep from the glass. Munne laughed and poured herself a glass of the golden wine as well. She raised the cup to Cesa who laughed in turn, and they clinked their glasses together.

“To another homecoming,” Munne said proudly.

“Aye, to another homecoming,” Cesa replied.

They both drank from their cups, and then assembled small plates of food. Munne was starving. Her trip to the valley had taken up much of the day, which only left time for small provisions on the trails. She had been looking forward to the return party all day, for she knew there would be ample amounts of flavorful food—a much better alternative to trail provisions. Munne plucked a handful of sliced fruits, tore off a section of warm bread, and managed to get some roasted meats on her plate as well. She ate, savoring every bite. It was good to be home.

“Welcome home, Lady Vere’cha!” someone cried out from a nearby table.

Munne looked up from her food and raised her glass, a smile on her face. She made eye contact with a young Elviri man at the next table over. He didn’t have a suit of armor on, which meant he was one of the townsfolk. Seated next to him was an archer, a large smile plastered all over her face. Munne did not recognize her immediately; she must have been from Elifyn. Was she reuniting with a brother, or possibly a lover?

“It is good to be back, as I’m sure your companion knows!” Munne called back, taking another sip from her cup. She needed to go slower with her wine; she had many more welcomes and cheers to exchange before the night was through.

She scanned the crowd, looking for some more familiar faces. Sitting near the orchestra on the left were members of the royal court. She spotted her friend Gilareana, a brown-haired blue-eyed beauty, sharing her cups with some scribes and noblemen. The men hung on her every word and scrambled to pour her some more wine when she finished with her glass.

Ah, the telltale signs of suitors. Perhaps Gilareana will make a match tonight? Munne knew that her friend loved to play the game, but wasn’t so sure she was ready to pick just yet. Being the daughter of one of the oldest families in Elimere, there was no end of proposals and gifts from other noble houses. Gilareana had relished every moment of it for the past fifty or so years. She would be expected to make a match before her three hundredth birthday. Munne hoped that she would find similar joy in courting when she stopped to take the time for it.

Seated by the end of Gilareana’s suitors was Elvarin, the Lorelord of the Elviri. Elvarin and Munne were close in age, and they were both appointed to their respective seats around the same time which formed a tight bond between the two. Elvarin’s position didn’t carry as much gossip or turmoil though since his ascension had been completely expected. The Lorelord oversaw the preservation of the godsites, and the continued improvements of the Elviri studies. Elvarin’s parents were some of the most elite scribes in Elimere, so he was raised as a potential replacement for Lorelord from birth. The previous Lorelord, Sariel Umenta, ultimately picked Elvarin after rigorous testing and competing with other young scribes and archivists.

Elvarin was trying to reach over one of Gilareana’s suitors and place some sliced fruit on his plate. The suitor threw his head back in laughter and nearly knocked skulls with Elvarin. The Lorelord had noticed just a split moment before the collision and was able to adjust himself to avoid the collision. Munne thought about going over to rescue him when two people approached her table—her mother and father. Her father, Huntaran, was a scribe before he became Se’vi, and he was humble about his position despite being the most powerful Elviri in all the land. Even though her father wasn’t a tall man, Munne felt like he was a statue towering over her as he stood beside the table. She met his eyes and forced a polite smile, thankful that she’d been able to get some drink in her before their meeting.

Huntaran’s lips curled upward in return. “Welcome home, daughter.”

“Thank you, Father. Your army was successful in their latest campaign. We have successfully kept the southern border of Promthus secured for the Proma.” It was customary for the Warlord to deliver a report to the Se’vi upon returning home. Usually that custom occurred the morning after the celebration.

“Thank you for overseeing their safe return. I will leave you to your celebration. We will discuss this more in the morning.” He was content with her return, but Munne knew her father had more to say. She would have to wait until morning to learn what it was he had to say.

“We’re glad that you’ve returned home safely, Munne,” Munne’s mother, Telhira, said firmly, a genuine smile on her face. “We hope you enjoy the celebration tonight. You and your troops have earned it.”

Telhira was a beauty, even in her older years, with her raven black hair and bright gray eyes. Her mother was a painter and sculptor, originally hailing from Lithalyon to the south. She had brought warmth and mirth to the valley of Elimere when she married Huntaran.

“Thank you, Mother.” Munne reached out and grasped Telhira’s hand. The two stayed like that for a moment before Huntaran locked arms with Munne’s mother.

He nodded to Munne a curt goodbye before turning to address Cesa. “Cesa, it’s good to see you. Hopefully, you’re finding the celebration to be enjoyable.”

Cesa raised his glass to Huntaran. “Aye, all can see that lady Telhira and the other noblewomen poured their love and kindness in the preparations of this celebration. The troops look pleased with this warm reception.”

Huntaran nodded to Cesa as well before escorting Telhira away. Munne looked at Cesa, waiting for him to give a subtle nod that her parents had left.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Munne let out an exasperated sigh. “Why must he address me like that here?”

“What, like you’re the overseer of the entire Elviri army?” Cesa raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Like I’m still a child.” Munne took another sip of her wine. The blend of grapes and spices invigorated her. “He never addressed you like that at these celebrations.”

“We were fortunate enough to not need these kinds of celebrations so often.” Cesa’s words darkened as he drank from his own glass.

Munne held her glass in front of her mouth so that the others couldn’t see her grimace. Cesa’s tenure as Warlord had been quiet. There had never more than a border scuffle. Munne often went back and forth thinking that the Provira conflict, as the Proma lords call it, was chalked up to her failure to hold the borders. Cesa had reassured her that it wasn’t her fault. The Provira had always been the rowdy type, but it wasn’t until Munne became Warlord that the Provira became bloodthirsty. They began attacking towns on the borders between Moonyswyn and the rest of the realm. Several years prior, they had been exiled to the rainforest of Moonyswyn after the Proma couldn’t tolerate their behavior any longer. Munne thought the Proma would have realized that sooner after the Elviri had banished the Provira from their lands.

The Provira were half-breeds. One parent was Proma, the other Elviri. Most of the unions between races happened in Elifyn to the south. The southern province was closer to the lands of Promthus than the rest of the Elviri lands, so it only made sense that the citizens of Elifyn became close with their Proma neighbors. The Provira didn’t take on the grace and sensibilities of their Elviri heritage. Instead, they favored the chaotic nature of the Proma. Munne’s father had been the one to issue the decree that the Provira couldn’t live in Elviri lands anymore. They had caused much destruction to the forests of Elifyn, and that couldn’t be tolerated. They fled to Promthus to the city-island of Auora. Twenty-eight years later, the Proma issued their own decree that the Provira were no longer welcome in their lands. They left for Moonyswyn, the rainforests of the south. Shortly after that, the Provira conflict began.

“You look like you could use some fresher air, Vere’cha,” a new voice said, drawing Munne back to the plaza and the surrounding celebrations.

In front of her, a handsome Elviri man smirked at her. His dark brown hair was braided, and his gray eyes glowed with affection. He was a welcome sight after the earlier ceremonies and her father’s visit. She felt her dour mood lifting, the warmth in her stomach spreading throughout the rest of her body.

“What air could be fresher than sitting outside in good company?” Cesa remarked, leaning back in his chair.

The warmth reached Munne’s cheeks. “I always liked standing near the fountains,” she said quietly, placing her wine glass on the table.

“Shall we, then?” The handsome Elviri walked around the table to stand by Munne’s side.

“Laralos, you know your Warlord should be present at this celebration with her soldiers,” Cesa chided the man and turned to face him.

“Sa’vani, surely I can slip away unnoticed for a few minutes?” Munne asked sweetly, placing her hand on Cesa’s knee. “To get some fresher air?”

Cesa looked her over and tightened his lips before smiling. “I should be able to keep you unnoticed for a few minutes. But nothing longer.”

Munne grinned and practically leapt to her feet. She grabbed Laralos’s hand and snuck down one of the roads away from the main plaza.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t rescue you sooner,” Laralos whispered, mindful of the people making their way toward the festivities. “I had to wait until after your father saw you. He would have been displeased otherwise.”

Munne laughed, guiding Laralos toward one of the smaller plazas. A tall fountain carved in the likeness of the goddess Belleol stood in the middle of the plaza. Her hands were open as if reading a book, water pouring from them into the pool below. The sound of splashing echoed throughout the plaza. A pleasant breeze blew through the plaza, carrying the mild scent of spilling water by Munne. She had missed Laralos dearly and was happy to have a few moments alone with her friend.

“How have you been, ebilin?” Laralos murmured, taking Munne’s other hand. He tenderly squeezed her hands, and stepped closer, his head on level with hers. Laralos was only slightly taller than Munne, but when she wore her boots, they were the same height.

Many years ago, her stomach would have pleasantly twisted at hearing him call her ebilin. Tonight, she felt uncomfortable at hearing that term of endearment. He still clung to their past when they had been sweethearts. Munne and Laralos had grown up together at court in Elimere. Both served their required time in the Elviri army during their lifepath rotations when they were young. Their paths diverged when Munne enlisted as a regular soldier in the army, and Laralos opted to remain with his parents in the forests of Elimaine. Their paths only crossed when she was at home, and he was visiting the valley. Munne knew the distance and years did little to quell Laralos’s feelings for her, but she couldn’t say the same. Her rise in rank had made it difficult for her to adapt to “peaceful life” as Cesa had phrased it. It didn’t help that she experienced nightmares during her latest campaign in Promthus.

“I’ve made worse journeys before.” she replied and feigned a smile. Her pleasant mood had vanished, but she didn’t want to offend her friend. “The weather hasn’t begun to turn yet, so we were fortunate enough to pass through the mountains without snow.”

“Aside from the return journey, Vere’cha.” The smile fell from Laralos’s face. The tenderness in his voice had been replaced with concern.

Munne couldn’t keep her smile either. Her grip on his hands slackened, and she avoided meeting his gaze. She wondered when the Hall of the Dead would be reopened, and she would be able to stand vigil over her dead soldiers. Avoiding questions she didn’t want to answer would be a lot easier when she wasn’t allowed to speak.

“I’m home for now. With winter approaching soon, I’ll need to decide who will be stationed at the foot of the mountains, and who will spend the season with the Proma,” Munne said. She was suddenly cold, despite her armor being padded for the oncoming winter.

Munne felt Laralos looking her over. “Are you thinking about joining one of those divisions?” His voice was soft but distant.

“I’ll go wherever I’m needed.” She chose her words carefully, intentionally keeping them vague.

“I hope you will take some time for yourself in these coming weeks.” Laralos squeezed her hands again, drawing her attention back to him. “You need rest, especially if you don’t know where your path will take you.”

Munne offered him another smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She brought his hands up to her lips and kissed them. “Come on. I don’t want Cesa taking the blame for my disappearance.” She turned and started walking back toward the main plaza, Laralos’s hands entwined with hers.

“Maybe next time you’ll stay with me a bit longer?” Laralos asked, but his voice was little more than an echo in her ears.

As they returned to the plaza, Munne saw the high priest approach from the opposite side. He waited for the orchestra to finish playing their song. She glanced at Laralos before pulling her hands away and returning to her seat next to Cesa. Her mentor’s cheeks were rosy underneath the light of the lanterns, and he had a grin on his face. Munne placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, a silent notice that she had returned. He jolted backward, his drink sloshing around in his hand.

“The other members of your triple were looking for you.” Cesa attempted to whisper, but the drink made his voice louder than he intended. “I told them you’d be with the priests after the doors opened.”

“Thank you, sa’vani, I’ll be sure to find them later,” Munne replied, taking a seat next to him. She grabbed a golden apple slice and nibbled on it.

As the orchestra finished playing, the high priest walked to the middle of the plaza. The dancers moved toward the edge of the pavilion, and the crowd quieted. Munne’s father and three other Elviri followed the high priest. She recognized them as the other chieftains of the Elviri lands. To the left of Huntaran was the chieftain of Elimaine, Kieron. He stood taller than her father, his light brown hair tied in a simple braid. He wore a dark blue robe that matched Cesa’s with the oak-and-moon emblem on the back, the silver sash across his shoulder indicating his senior rank. Kieron held the third highest rank in the army just after Munne and her father. She alternated leading campaigns with him and a few other high-ranking generals. Kieron and her father were close, and he acted like a second father to her.

The other two Elviri were the twin chieftains of Elifyn, Caedwyn and Faelwyn. The twins had pale blond hair and stood at the same height as Huntaran. Caedwyn, the female twin, wore a blue silk dress with silver trimming and detail. Faelwyn complemented his sister, wearing a silver robe with blue trimming and detail. The twins appeared much younger than their actual age. Most Elviri who spent their days in Elifyn appeared younger than their age. Munne had spent a fair amount of time with the twin chieftains in Elifyn during her lifepath rotation. They taught her much about the arts, something Munne found very peculiar and fascinating. She enjoyed the murals of the gods that were housed in one of the museums in Elifyn.

The three Elviri provinces were vastly different in their professions. Elimere was both the capital of the Elviri lands and its own province, serving as the trading hub and political center for the Elviri. To the west and south of Elimere were the expansive forests of Elimaine. Loggers and hunters populated many of its villages, with its main city, Elyr Tym, serving as the headquarters for the army. Many godsites were in Elimaine, so the Paladins of the Gods, a sect of the army, were charged with preserving and maintaining them. Elifyn, the third province, was the center of art and beauty. During the Eldest Days, the goddess Lithua chose Lithalyon, the capital city of Elifyn, as her seat, and it was there that she taught the mortal Elviri how to paint and sing.

It was not uncommon for all the chieftains to be in Elimere at the same time, but the purpose for their current visit set Munne on edge. They had gathered to aid in the preparations for Huntaran’s descension next year. That meant they would be spending more time with her, ensuring she was prepared to become—

“Elviri of all provinces, I welcome you home,” the high priest said loudly to all present. Silence filled the plaza. All attention was on the high priest and the four chieftains standing behind him. “Tonight, we mourn the loss of our brethren. They watched over us in life, and so they shall in death. Please join me tonight in celebrating their time with us on the mortal plane and prepare them for continuing their lives on the other side.”

He lifted his left hand in the air and raised two fingers to point toward the moonlit sky. The four chieftains followed suit. Munne stood and repeated the familiar gesture. Soon, all the Elviri at the plaza were standing and raising their left hands in the air. The sign was symbolic of pointing the way to the other side where the deceased would walk with the gods.

The orchestra started playing a new song, this one somber and melancholic. Munne lowered her hand. Her feet carried her around the table and toward the high priest. Any warmth or cloudy vision she may have had from her drink cleared up almost immediately. As she approached, he lowered his own hand and turned his gaze toward her. Munne felt the attention shifting to her. She bowed before the high priest and the chieftains and extended a hand to the priest. He took her hand, and the two walked toward the edge of the plaza in the direction of the Hall of the Dead. The chieftains followed, and Munne was sure most of the party would follow as well. It was customary for everyone to flood the Hall when the doors first opened to pay their respects and show their support for the families of the deceased.

The walk to the Hall of the Dead felt very much like the first, except the people followed behind her now.

Slowly, now. Don’t rush.

One of the first times she led this kind of parade, she had walked too fast, and Cesa wouldn’t let her hear the end of it the next day. Ever since, Munne took every care to set a slow pace. She found that it gave her time to reflect on the events leading up to the parade and figure out what to say to the families of the deceased. Cesa set the standard for all Warlords to come to speak to each family the morning after the preparations. He had provided the families with words of reassurance and comfort. Cesa was different from previous Warlords in that he cared for each individual soldier. He took the time to meet each one, and spent a little bit of time personally training each of them when they were first recruited. He even acquainted himself with the youngest Elviri as they underwent their lifepath rotations. It was because of Cesa’s time with her that Munne decided she wanted to join the army.

The doors to the Hall were already open. Light spilled out from within. There seemed to be more candles than before. Munne and the high priest climbed the stairs, hands still clasped together. They passed through the doors and stopped before the main chamber. One of the priests handed the high priest a large lit candle. He let go of Munne’s hand to receive it before turning and passing it to her. With this candle, it was her duty as Warlord to light the candles at each casket, to guide their spirits to the next life.

Munne took the time to look at each casket before she lit the candle. The candles were mixed with dark blue dye, reserved for deceased soldiers and paladins. All the caskets were open now and the bodies of the dead decorated for the afterlife. Munne recognized every body. Each face she looked at had the traditional warrior’s makeup applied. Their lips were painted a deep blue, and a white stripe crossed their cheeks. Gray smoothstones had been placed on their chests, awaiting decoration.

She knelt before the candle and lowered hers to the wick. Flames crept from one wick to the other, and the blue candle was alight. She kissed her two fingers and gently pressed them against the casket. “I’m sorry, Kerireth.”

She climbed back to her feet, gripping the candle with both hands again. Thirty-five more to go.

When she left Elimaine, she had left with close to one hundred soldiers. This specific campaign was supposed to be simple reinforcements, and to ensure the Proma had secured their southern border. It wasn’t supposed to be a bloody campaign. Munne hadn’t anticipated the ambush on their supply train, or the battle at the border. Her troops had been split up, and that was their downfall. Before they could regroup and figure out where the Provira had attacked from, the damage had already been done. They only attacked to destroy the supplies. Munne was forced to return north and gather more. Their second trip was successful, but upon returning they learned that one of the three outposts had been entirely overrun. In the ensuing battle, thirty-six of Munne’s soldiers lost their lives, and she was forced to leave. They didn’t even have a battle priest with them.

Munne apologized to each body. If she had thought things through, perhaps left a portion of her forces at the outposts, they wouldn’t have lost. Or perhaps they wouldn’t have lost as many. But that was in the past, and all Munne could do was apologize. Apologize, and avenge them.

As Munne finished with the last body and candle, she walked to the end of the Hall and then turned to face her fallen troops. Her grip on the candle had tightened, and her knuckles were whitened.

“High Priest Valanir, I’m ready to begin the vigil,” Munne murmured. “The families may enter.”

The high priest nodded and walked to the doors, leaving Munne to stand at the head of her troops. From afar, Munne saw the high priest welcoming people in. Slowly, the crowds filled the Hall, standing over the caskets. Men and women wept over the bodies, whispering goodbye to their friends, loved ones, and children. Elviri from all three provinces were in the Hall tonight. Those from Elimere and Elifyn were dressed in beautiful mourning gowns and robes, embroidered with family crests. Those from Elimaine wore dark tunics and dresses. The Elifyn folk were placing various finery in the caskets like swatches of silk, musical instruments, or small paintings. Caskets belonging to Elimaine were filled with beautiful animal hides, short bows, and other arms. Some of the poorer families had nothing to place in their loved ones’ caskets, and so they sang quiet hymns and painted beautiful runes on their smoothstones.

Munne allowed her own tears to fall. Her heart ached for every person in the Hall that evening. She silently vowed to do whatever it took to end this war with the Provira. Her vigil had begun. She would stand in the Hall for a few hours before the next person to stand vigil would replace her. She suspected that Kieron may be one of those people since many of the deceased were from Elimaine. He would stand over them as both general and chieftain. After her vigil, she would retire to her suite in her father’s manor, which housed the Se’vi, his family, and other families of the royal court.

Munne allowed herself to look elsewhere in the Hall. She visited the Hall of the Dead too often, but it always humbled her to look upon the statues of the gods. Behind her was the statue of Azrael, whom she knew very intimately. As the god of death and war, most of her prayers went to him. She didn’t turn around to look upon him, but she did whisper a quiet prayer to him. His statue emulated his mortal form and towered over her, as did all the other statues. He held a claymore in his hands, the tip touching the ground between his feet. In this Hall, his likeness wore a simple robe and no shoes to symbolize his humbleness of escorting the dead to the afterlife. The claymore had runes carved into it that Munne had memorized the translation of. Rest with ease in this Hall, for the hardship of mortality is temporary, and I am eternal. All Elviri were guided to the afterlife by Azrael, even if they didn’t live a warrior’s life.

To the left of Azrael was his wife, Aeona, the goddess of life. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were held out, palms open. The Elviri prayed to her for good health and long life.

Next to her was Karonos, the god of justice. He held a scale with both hands, his gaze firm and decisive. Karonos had been the first Writlord of the Elviri, the figurehead of law and justice in their society. Munne had a strained relationship with Karonos. She tried to humble herself, but she often felt that he didn’t hear her prayers when she asked for justice in this war.

Beside him was Belleol, goddess of knowledge. Like the fountain statue, she stood with her hands cupped, as if holding a book. It was commonly believed that Belleol had the gift of foresight in addition to her thirst for knowledge. Munne knew of small communities in Elifyn who worshiped Belleol in that aspect and performed divinations in her name. She always wondered if she should reach out to these communities and see if any would be willing to assist her with the war but worried if Azrael would disapprove of that idea.

At the end of the left side was the statue of Lithua, goddess of love. Her arms were crossed over her chest, hands resting on her shoulders. Lithua was often described as the most mortal of the gods. She would regularly commune with mortals and celebrate different occasions with them. It was her festival of love, Ebala, that was celebrated by other races, not just the Elviri.

On Azrael’s right stood Ceyo, the ruler of the gods. Normally she was at the head of all portraits or statues of the gods if they were all present. In buildings that were devoted to one specific god, she always stood on their right, as was the case in the Hall of the Dead. Ceyo had a longsword in her right hand pointed to the ground. She held up her left hand level with her head, pointing two fingers toward the ceiling. Munne prayed to Ceyo for guidance almost as often as she did to Azrael. Ceyo had been the reluctant leader of the gods, and Munne sympathized with that in a way that scared her. She feared becoming the next Se’vi because she felt that she hadn’t earned it. Sometimes it seemed that only Ceyo understood how she felt, so Munne would often make the pilgrimage to Ceyo’s godsite on the edge of the valley. Perhaps she would make that pilgrimage again before winter’s first frost set in.

To the right of Ceyo was Nole, the messenger god, holding a lantern. Munne couldn’t remember if she had prayed to him before taking the first round of supplies to those outposts. She cursed herself regardless, feeling as though she failed one of her sacred duties as a Warlord. She wouldn’t make that mistake again.

Next to Nole was a statue of Vyn, the god of change. He wore a simple garb, which was often the depiction of him. Vyn was the least regal of the gods, and he was also the last one to walk on the mortal plane. It was when Vyn disappeared from the world that the beginning of the second era, Second Sun, began. It was a common belief among the Elviri that Vyn became the second sun in the sky, giving the second era of time its name. Everyone had their own beliefs on what caused the second sun to rise in the sky. Munne wasn’t certain what she believed in after spending much time with diplomats from the other races. She took comfort in the idea that one of her gods was still so close to her, though, so she never put much thought into it.

The last statue on the right was of Eloe, goddess of the harvest. She was the twin sister of Nole. She stood shorter than the other gods and was often depicted as younger than them as well. She fell in love with the second son of the first Se’vi, Huntlé. When they wed, Ceyo allowed Huntlé to ascend to godhood, and he became the god of the hunt. The Hall of the Dead was one of the oldest structures in Elimere, and it predated the ascension of Huntlé. He didn’t have a statue in this building, so people would stand before Eloe’s statue when praying to him. Munne often wondered if Huntlé was always destined to ascend to godhood, or if it was an act of spontaneity like the war with the Provira had been.

Munne looked down at the candle, beads of wax slowly rolling down its length. She swore to herself that she would visit the nearby godsites within the week. She had much reflection to do, and the time away from others would help ease her mind.

The townspeople began slipping out of the Hall and returned to the celebration. Several families stayed, not yet finished with their goodbyes. Some people entered the Hall for the first time that evening and waited for the crowds to pass before giving their goodbyes. Munne watched them all come and go for three hours. No one approached her, as was customary. Those who stood vigil didn’t speak with the families that night. That would happen in the morning, during the ceremony where the priests left the valley to lay the deceased to rest in the forests of Elimaine.

A man named Saendys relieved Munne at the end of her vigil. He had been one of the higher-ranking soldiers in the latest campaign and oversaw most of the soldiers who lost their lives. Munne offered her hand to him, and they grabbed hold of each other’s arms in mutual respect. She passed him the candle with her other hand, and he took it. He nodded, and they switched spots. Saendys let go of her arm, but she grabbed his hand before it fell to his side. She squeezed gently, looking him in the eye—a silent promise that all would be well. She knew he felt as though he were responsible for the number of caskets in the Hall. They had argued at length over whose fault it had been, but neither was willing to blame the other. They ultimately decided to share their guilt, and Munne had promised Saendys a trip to one of the local taverns after their return.

Munne walked down the Hall, no longer bound by any ceremonial obligations. The tearstains on her cheeks had dried, but her eyes felt weary and in need of rest. She looked into every casket now filled with gifts and treasures from loved ones. The smoothstones had been painted with many different colors and symbols. No one stopped her during her walk, and for that she was thankful. Cesa may have been a master at comforting words, but she wasn’t. She needed more time to muster the courage to talk to the families. She wanted to apologize to them all, but she knew she would break down if she did. They didn’t need a weak Warlord; they needed a strong Warlord who would guide them through this turmoil.

Outside the Hall of the Dead, the celebration continued. Music echoed throughout the streets. People were dancing and laughing, enjoying time with one another. Munne avoided the main plaza and took the quieter roads back to her father’s manor. She hoped the exhaustion from returning home would keep the nightmares at bay tonight.

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