War Of The Wildlands by Lana Axe

being
transported. The windows would remain covered, and the elves would remain
chained to avoid any chance of escaping.
    Both carriage drivers appeared nervous, but they helped
Mi’tal split the elves into two groups of five. Each group was loaded into a
carriage, and Mi’tal took a seat next to the lead driver. With a nod, Mi’tal ordered
the drivers to head for the western border.
    The wooden carriages rolled noisily over the stone
streets of the palace district. Few citizens took any notice as they passed,
and Mi’tal felt free to relax in his seat. For now the elves were remaining quiet,
and no one was aware that he and the prince had just committed treason. If the
king happened to find out about this, they could both expect to be thrown in
the dungeons. Aelryk would be forgiven in time, but Mi’tal’s only hope would be
for a single stroke of the headsman’s axe. His loyalty to the prince, however,
was much stronger than his loyalty to the king. Though Aelryk was still young,
Mi’tal could plainly see that he was a much more respectable ruler than his
father.
     
    * * * * *
     
    As evening darkened into night, the carriages stopped to make camp at the
edge of a small farming community. Mi’tal opened the doors himself to allow the
elves to sleep outside in the fresh air. Blankets had been stored in a trunk on
the back of the second carriage, and the drivers distributed them among the
elves.
    “Are we going to have to sleep while chained?” a
young elf asked. This was the first time any of them had spoken since the
journey began.
    “I’m afraid so,” Mi’tal replied. “If you were to
escape now, you might still be in danger. You have no reason to trust me, I
know. If I unchain you, I can’t be certain you won’t run.”
    “What you mean is, you can’t be certain I won’t
cut your throat while you sleep,” the elf said, glaring at his captor.
    “There’s that as well,” Mi’tal stated calmly.
“Neither of us is much capable of trust it seems. We are at war after all.”
    “Are you really going to free us when we reach the
Wildlands?” an older elf with graying hair asked. “You don’t plan to use us for
slave labor anymore?”
    “I have no intention of doing so,” Mi’tal
answered. “As soon as we reach the border I will release the chains, and you
can go where you will. I hope you will consider carrying the prince’s message
to your clansmen.”
    “I might consider it,” the older elf said. “If you
keep your word, perhaps your prince will keep his as well. It’s a shame that
the king has no interest in peace. He’s the one we are fighting against.”
    “That is true, but Prince Aelryk hopes to
negotiate a treaty and bring it before his father. He is certain that once
everything is agreed between our two peoples his father will acquiesce.”
    “Domren is a tyrant and a murderer,” an elf woman
said.
    Taking a closer look at her, Mi’tal realized it
was the same woman who had been struck by the dockmaster earlier in the day. “I
regret the poor treatment you have received at the hands of my people,” he
began. “You must believe that the prince will do everything in his power to
negotiate this peace. Not all Na’zorans are like the dockmaster who mistreated
you.”
    “You’re all sheep,” she said. “You follow a tyrant
king no matter how cruelly he treats his subjects. He’s beaten you all into
submission, and now he has come for us. He will destroy the forest and claim
the land for himself. If this prince truly wants peace, he should cut his
father’s heart out and claim the throne himself. If he does that, I will carry
his message to my people.”
    The woman’s harsh words landed heavily on Mi’tal’s
ears. She was correct that Domren was a tyrant. He judged his own people mercilessly,
and a fair trial was no longer a common occurrence. The king did not like to be
questioned, and any advisor that did so risked being put to death. Luckily,
Aelryk was able to see