“There is one other thing.” The elder seated on the right said. The other two looked at her, confusion on their faces. “We haven’t talked about it, but it may become a problem. This…can be a solution.”

  “You don’t mean-“ The middle elder said.

  “We do not participate in exchanges.”

  Taradira nodded in understanding. “Having some of your people participate in a larger army would benefit them.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nenhal asked.

  “You don’t need to worry about it. It is a problem that is being fixed. Go, speak to the others. See who will join you.”

  Taradira led Nenhal out, closing the door behind them.

  “You’ll tell me, right?”

  “Inbreeding. Have you been paired?”

  “When I’m older, the grandmothers will allow me to choose from men they think are suitable for me.”

  She furrowed her brow in anger. “The ones they would find suitable would be the ones that don’t share parents. Half brothers, the humans would call them.”

  “What?”

  “You told me you were of the sixth circle. That means you are the most recent set of births, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your mother and father, what circle are they?”

  “My mother is from the second, and my father the fourth.”

  “So your mother has several other children, with different fathers. And your father one or two.”

  “Three. He had another child of the sixth circle before me. Sedrahel.”

  “Popular guy. But your suitable partners would not include any men born from either of your parents. Or from their parents.”

  Nenhal fell silent, and they descended downward. Before they reached the bottom, she spoke up. “I did hear once that some men are much more suitable than others.”

  Taradira frowned as she considered, then ground her teeth together. “And others much less suitable.” The manipulation, even if there was a good reason, reminded her of her own elders. The lies they told. “But, among the strongholds, there would be plenty of…suitable partners.” That the three did not beg her to take the youngest away spoke to how dedicated they were to staying isolated. Though they did value the free will of their children above that, which made her respect them, it wasn’t enough for her to forgive them.

  At the bottom of the village, on the forest floor, Taradira looked around, and moved to a central location. “I want everyone to listen to me.” she spoke loudly, and then waited. Nenhal stood by her side, quickly joined by the others of her party. The men of the forest stood on the floor, watching her intently, while the walkways above filled with the faces of the women, staring down at Taradira.

  “I have come here to ask you for your help. Far to the north, your people are fighting a war. Slowly but surely, they are losing. Your elders saw this and came here, to be safe. To give you safety. I do not blame them for this. I also ran away from the fighting. Unlike your elders, I was alone. I went to the humans and learned how to fight. I am going to go back to my people - our people - with the knowledge I gained, and I am going to change the way they are fighting. I plan to win. To make it safe. But to win, I must fight. I plan to bring as many of our people together as I can, to form an army that can crush our enemies. I am here to invite you to be a part of that.”

  As Taradira fell silent, Nenhal looked at her, and after receiving a nod, spoke up. “After Ferene came to us, I left to see more of the outside world. Some came with me. You have noticed that Farathal is no longer with us. He did not survive in the outside world. We all loved him, but none of us would have changed what we did. There is so much more to see, to experience. I have seen open skies that stretch out endlessly. Mountains taller than the tallest tree, and stars far above that. I have met people, so many people, who have lived lives so different from our own, with stories to tell. It is worth fighting for. It is worth dying for.”

  Tahrean sat on the edge of the cliff, legs hanging off, staring downwards. They acknowledged Ferene’s approach without turning to face her. “I didn’t think you would be back so soon.”

  “I brought someone.” she replied.

  “I can hear that. I didn’t expect you to bring others with you when you returned. Especially not Hatharen.”

  Frowning, Grathen stepped forward. “Ferene told me that you are the oldest one here.”

  “And why should that concern you?” Tahrean still did not stand up, or even look back.

  “I spent several thousand years sleeping. Life in the stronghold isn’t how I remember it, though this is not where I lived.”

  Finally, they lifted their legs, turning to stand and meet Grathen’s gaze. Tahrean studied his face. “Do you consider yourself a deserter? Would the people of your former home? You were missing for all those years. What if they needed you?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Some hate me for not helping them with the fighting. Others see me as someone to be protected, and do not hold my choice against me. I offer my wisdom where I can, to those that wish to hear it. I worry that you may not be greeted warmly by your people.”

  “I will deal with that when I return to Ravthal.”

  “So you will.”

  Ferene stayed silent, watching the exchange, suddenly unsure. In front of Tahrean, Grathen suddenly seemed…less old. Not from the same time as Tahrean at all. “We need to go to Treventhal first.”

  “That is an interesting place for you to be going, Ferene.”

  “I have a message to deliver to my father’s people.”

  “Why not your father himself?”

  “He was banished.”

  “So were you from here, yet you returned.”

  “That’s…” she wanted to say it was different, but she wasn’t sure. “He has other work to do.”

  “Does he?”

  Again, she was unsure. “Taradira kept him with her.”

  “Another Hatharen. Interesting. You’ve met quite a few people.”

  “I met an emperor. Two of them.”

  Tahrean laughed. “You stand, walk, and talk with more confidence. Like more of a person. You’ve grown, Ferene. It shows. You are different than when you left. I’m glad you came to talk with me.”

  Ferene didn’t get to respond, as there was a shout from behind her. Grathen spun, drawing his sword, just in time to block a strike from Relgren. The diminutive Hatharen struck again, both of his hands on his sword as he fought. Ferene reached for her own weapon, only for Tahrean to grab her hand.

  “Let them fight.”

  Grathen stepped sideways and backwards, turning the fight away from the side of the cliff, moving towards the center of the cavern. Relgren followed, his face serious, swinging his weapon in a series of fast, quick strikes. His larger opponent worked to block each and every one, some barely in time.

  “Why are they fighting?” Ferene asked.

  “I do not know.” Tahrean replied. “I believe Relgren recognized your friend. He demanded a duel.”

  Ferene stood, tense, watching. Her hands made fists. She wanted to step between them, but Tahrean’s words kept her back. Let them fight, he said. She kept her eyes on the two fighters as Relgren attacked again and again, Grathen staying on the defensive, blocking but never retaliating. He intercepted a blow from Relgren’s blade with his own, only to have to step back to avoid a following kick.

  That strike seemed to change Grathen’s strategy. He finally launched an attack, swinging his weapon at his opponent’s head. Relgren blocked, the force of the blow forcing him to step backwards, a smile on his face. He said something, and sheathed his sword, turning to Ferene.

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  “You. You let him train you?” She shook her head. “Good.” He said, glancing back at Grathen. “Bad teacher. Don’t listen to him.” With that, he turned and walked away.

  “I didn’t expect to meet him here.” Grathen said, sword still in hand. “Good to see he’s still alive.”

  “Why did he attack you?”

  Taking a deep breath, Grathen sheathed his weapon, then rubbed his forehead. “I met him a long time ago. He disagreed with me training humans. Said it was useless, since they’d all die.”

  It took a moment for Ferene to understand the meaning behind the words. “He taught me.”

  “Then his opinion has changed.” Grathen shrugged. “Makes sense with him no longer thinking my teaching abilities are valuable.”

  “He told me about the knights of Resh.”

  Grathen nodded. “Relgren didn’t approve of them. When we first met, he had a lot to say about the knights, and my role in training them. He was young then. I’m glad to see he’s still alive.”

  Ferene found Rilya again, pulling her aside.

  “I wanted to tell you about…about what I did after I left.”

  Rilya simply nodded, smiling at Ferene reassuringly. She wasn’t sure how Rilya would feel about her actions, but the smile made her feel better.

  “I met…someone else, and spent time with him. Is that…alright with you?”

  Rilya tilted her head, her lips forming a thin line, then she nodded. Ferene sighed in relief, then yelped as Rilya rushed forward, grabbing her head and pressing their lips together. Ferene stiffened, then relaxed, wrapping her arms around her friend.

  “Ferene is mine.” Rilya said, breaking the kiss, smiling mischievously. “But I can share.”

  “I love you.” Ferene replied, and pulled Rilya towards her for another kiss.

  The two were interrupted by Telhrian, the rest of the family not far behind, Filraehen carrying Senraril. Telhrian grinned. “I knew we’d find you if we simply sought out Rilya.”

  Ferene blinked, looking at all of them, her body still pressed against Rilya, before she laughed. It felt good to laugh. Rilya smiled, and it quickly spread to the rest of them.

  “Did you need me for something?”

  “We didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye.”

  “I have to come back after.”

  “Will you?” He raised an eyebrow.

  Ferene nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well, it seems we gathered for no reason, then.” He said something to the others.

  Rilya squeezed Ferene’s arm, drawing her attention before she was pushed into the group. She found herself surrounded by her family, hands touching her shoulders, faces smiling at her. Senraril even wrapped his hand around her fingers, squeezing tightly, watching her silently.

  Taradira walked back south, a line of Hatharen behind her. Twenty five more of the forest dwellers decided to join her. It felt odd, seeing Hatharen not moving in groups of six. The newcomers were a mixed lot, most from the youngest generation but a scattering of older Hatharen, including one man from the second circle. They had discussed things and decided on allowing Nenhal to remain as their leader, and the young Hatharen looked proud as she followed Taradira.

  They all rejoined the rest of the group, the humans camped out and waiting for them. Taradira gave the order to pack up, and then resumed their journey north, walking around the forest. She had nearly half the Hatharen population from there with her now. If she could accomplish the same with the strongholds, she’d have nearly a thousand soldiers. A far cry from the human armies she lead, but an entirely different kind of force. They’d need to be trained, but she expected them to learn fast. Hatharen learned new skills fast.

  Several days later, a column of cavalry appeared, some forty horsemen cutting across and bringing them to a stop. Taradira moved to the front, surrounded by the other Hatharen.

  One horseman rode forward, wearing a dark orange uniform and holding a spear upright in one hand.

  “Are you Taradira, General of Ettsgras?”

  “I am Taradira, Warden of the Hatharen, former General of Ettsgras.”

  “You lead an army of soldiers towards Wellent.”

  “I lead an army of farmers and other non-combatants to the north, beyond Olentor. You will find no weapons or armor among them.”

  The soldier eyed the Hatharen arrayed before him, then returned his gaze to Taradira. “You will remain here while-“

  “The fighting force that I bring is directly in front of you. I have nothing to hide. You can inspect the caravan if you wish. I wish no conflict with Wellent or Olentor, simply to travel to the mountains.”

  “We will inspect your wagons, then.” He turned his horse, ordering his comrades forward. When he dismounted and stepped towards Taradira, his face went pale. He stared up at her, then looked at the rest of the Hatharen, all taller than him by at least half a head.

  Taradira kept her arms at her sides, simply smiling down at the soldier. He looked away, watching his men as they moved to inspect the wagons.

  She decided to break the silence. “I have a message for the Lady Linara, of Olentor.”

  “I am not a messenger.”

  “You are a soldier of Wellent, which is part of an Alliance with Olentor. The king of Olentor leads the Alliance. Lady Linara currently sits as part of Olentor’s royal court, does she not? If my being here as the former general of Ettsgras is worthy of your attention, is the fact that I am trying to contact a member of the king’s court also not something to concern yourself with?”

  The soldier met her eyes, frowning for a moment, then turned away, looking towards his men. “Siro!”

  One of the men behind him rode forward. “Captain?”

  The captain turned back to Taradira. “Siro is our fastest rider. He will deliver your message.”

  “Tell Lady Linara that Taradira wishes to meet with her. Tell her that it is about the future of the strongholds, and concerns the agreement between Olentor and Aesuthal.”

  Siro nodded after each statement, then looked down at his captain, whose face had drained of color upon hearing the message. “Now.” as Siro rode off, the captain turned back to Taradira. “I was not aware it would be a matter of state. My apologies.”

  “Finish your investigation so we may be on our way.”

  Ferene walked along the plateaus and peaks of the mountains, Grathen at her side. They had ascended to the top of Yonthal, then walked even further up as they moved west, following a beaten path steadily higher. The views to the north and south starkly contrasted each other. To her left, grassy, rolling plains spread out, divided by dirt roads and forests, dotted with the occasional farmhouse. When she looked right, she saw a wasteland. Barren rolling hills of white stone dominated the landscape, decorated by sparse outcrops of nearly bare trees.

  The view suddenly changed. Ferene stared at the ground directly in front of her, on her hands and knees despite not remembering falling down. Grathen was at her side, his hand on her back.

  “Deep breaths. Take in as much air as you can.”

  “What-what’s happening?” She asked, blinking against the dizziness.

  “The air is thin up here. You’ll need some time to adjust. Sit down and breathe.”

  Ferene did as he instructed, looking up at him. “Be-because I’m not Hatharen.” She said, pointing at him.

  He nodded in response. “The Hatharen part of you doesn’t adapt fast enough to prevent the human part of you from being affected, yes. If you were fully human, you would be suffering far worse.”

  She nodded, her head swimming at the motion. “The stronghold?” She asked.

  “It is at a lower altitude. You wouldn’t need to worry anyway, your body will adapt. Just give it some time.”

  “Weak.” She mumbled, closing her eyes. Her thoughts seemed to slow down.

  “Once you’ve adjusted, you’ll be just as strong as you were down below. It isn’t a concern unless we are attacked right now.”

  Ferene fell silent, pressing her lips together as she breathed through her nose. The air smelled different here. She had noticed that before, but hadn’t considered it. Doing so proved hard at first, but became easier as she sat. There was a sweetness to the air, though it carried no associated scent.

  Slowly, she rose to her feet, nodding to Grathen. “Let’s keep going.” She said, the fog on her mind clearing.

  They resumed their trek westward, the path gradually dropping, taking them lower and lower as they trekked. The sun set, and they kept walking, the stars and moon lighting the path. Grathen stayed silent, and Ferene fell into her own thoughts.

  After the battle to the north, there was a brief moment where she saw someone. A Hatharen woman had approached her, laughed, and walked away. When she learned that she was Selveren’s second daughter, she thought of that woman. Was that Tilhana, her sister? She tried to remember her features from that brief encounter, but couldn’t.

  Taradira gave her this assignment because Treventhal was Selveren’s old home, and so she had some claim to the place as well. Her experience with sons and daughters was nearly nonexistent. How much would they care? How would her sister react? She found herself nervous, thinking ahead.

  As the sun rose, Grathen handed her a square of bread. “The strongholds are close enough that a Hatharen can walk from one to another without rest, if we push ourselves. There’s no need for that now, so when you feel tired, we can stop.”

  Taking a bite, Ferene shook her head. She didn’t know what a Hatharen’s limits were, but she was sure over a short distance, she could keep up. She’d gone days without stopping - and paid the price afterward, but she wasn’t worried about that here. “I can keep going.” She heard Grathen sigh, but ignored it.

  By the time Ferene saw their goal, the sun was setting, coating the mountaintops in shades of red and orange. The path stopped at the top of a much steeper slope, causing Ferene to pause. The ground fell away in a gentle curve before her, the side of the mountain turning into a large shallow, the pale stone replaced with grass and trees despite the altitude. A perfectly circular lake sat at the center of the oasis, the water reflecting the colors of the setting sun. Ferene blinked at the sight, her eyes picking out small, simple buildings clustered together at one edge of the lake.

  For a moment, she simply stared. Where Yonthal was bare, harsh, and militant in its simplicity, Treventhal looked like a large human village. She could make out small fields of crops, enough to support the people living here. There were even piers on the surface of the lake.

  “Treventhal was said to be the most beautiful of all the strongholds.” Grathen said from beside her. “Look, they’ve noticed us.” He extended an arm, and she saw two figures approaching from below, climbing the side of the basin.

  “You’ll have to explain things to them.” She said, finally finding her words.

  “I will.”

  The introduction was brief - only a few words were exchanged between Grathen and the scouts before they were led down into the basin, towards the village. The scouts talked to each other, short phrases being traded back and forth during the descent. Her father’s name was in both Grathen’s words and those between the two escorts.

  “What are they saying?” Ferene finally asked, figuring that it might be important to know.

  “They are discussing your father’s parting.”

  Their trek ended outside a large building. One of the two stayed with them while the other went inside, coming out a few moments later and running off. Ferene and Grathen waited, silently, as the man eventually came back with four Hatharen in tow - two men and two women. One of each looked at Ferene, studying her, while the other two went inside without giving her a glance. Ferene herself was ushered in after them, Grathen following.