Chapter 45: Farewell to a friend

Makareta and Aputa return from Thurn at the head of a column of eight Elf Maidens, nineteen adolescents and sixteen elven babies and children. The escaping elves all come from the farming and mining estates west of the Reakie river. It’s an area that forms the battleground between the rival armies of Thurn city, and the rebellious cities to the east. The children must have been previously evacuated from a city, since elven children normally live in city crèches in accordance with Thurn’s laws. The Elf Maidens turn out to be former members of a now deceased local lord’s harem.

“We lost contact with BH632 and AN332,” says Makareta when she meets with us. “They were trying to infiltrate Thurn city, but everything is in chaos. The Chief Procurator is theoretically in control of the city and the surrounding area, but nobody seems to have passed on that message to the mercenaries on the ground. Whoever pays their wages gives the orders.”

Ihapera arranges for the new arrivals to be found accommodation. If this rate of new arrivals continues, we will have replaced all of the Atenex who moved east in another few weeks. We allow Makareta and Aputa to rest before burdening them with our news.

Perhaps they noticed that is was Ihapera in charge of their arrival rather than Akenehi. Anyway, neither of them is unduly surprised when we confess that Akenehi is very weak, and that she is not likely to live much longer. The trained medics among the recently awakened Atenex say they can do little more than make Akenehi comfortable. Old age is finally claiming its due.

We live in a world where the ailments of old age approach rapidly once a person is in their the mid-thirties. This strikes me as unfair, as the Mariners seem to enjoy long healthy lives. The energetic harbour-master at the Mariner settlement must be well into his forties, and several of the ships’ crews I saw could easily be fifty or more years of age. Which suggests that the short life span that all the Potiora races experience is a product of the genetic tinkering our ancient ancestors performed. I make a note to ask Dioxippe next time we talk.

“If Thurn continues to tear itself apart, then we may need to evacuate more people,” says Makareta. “Not just elves, but innocent Thurnian citizens as well.”

“Where are we to put them?” asks Ihapera. “Our empty houses are rapidly being filled.”

“I agree with Makareta,” says Cassandra. “We need to expand. The land to the west of the river is unclaimed, even as far south as the Mariner settlement.”

“That’s ambitious!” I chortle. “We would need thousands of people to settle that huge area of land. Besides, it would place our border directly across the river from Merope. I doubt their senate is going to like that. We could be putting our head in a bear’s mouth.”

“There are thousands of elves in Thurn,” says Cassandra. “Possibly a like number of Thurnians who are fed up with the petty politics of Thurn. We won’t be able to do it overnight. But we have people with the skills to improve our technology. We have expert hunters, manufacturers and craftspeople. The war in Thurn gives us access to willing migrants. Yes, what I propose is ambitious, but I’m an emperor’s daughter with a vision. And in any case, Thurn’s winters are effing cold. Who in their right mind would choose to stay there if you had an alternative?”

“We are short of one thing,” I add. “Atenex males. Thurnian men can supplement those male Atenex we have, but without more male elves to father boys, our empire is going to be largely made up of women.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” replies Cassandra. “But I take your point. Without Atenex male babies, the growth of our population will always be at risk.”

“I doubt that Karaka’s Atenex males are going to confine their cocks to their own group when there are hundreds of eager females only a short journey away,” says Ihapera. “We already have several sniffing around the outer settlements whenever there are fewer females of their own in heat.”

“Then we should develop Cassandra’s plan further,” says Makareta. “I suggest we survey the lands to the west of the river. Perhaps the northern section first. Let’s see if we can locate the bay that Alex found on his map. If we can find a route across country to the sea, then maybe we can have the Mariners transport those young elves to the bay. It will also give us a seaborne route to evacuate more of Thurn’s refugees.”

Whether it is a good omen, or a simple coincidence, the last recorded words of Akenehi, once known as AK8, are her blessing for Cassandra’s ambitious vision. With Akenehi’s passing goes the last of the first generation of Thurnian born elves. It’s a milestone that goes unrecorded since official Thurnian history states that the first generation of Elf Maidens died out a decade ago. Yet another all-too-frequent inaccuracy in Thurnian history.

Neither Thurnians nor Atenex hold large ceremonies or commemorations for those who die. Death is an often enough occurrence to be treated with respect, but without maudlin weeping and wailing. Witnessed by her close family and friends, Akenehi’s cremation takes place in a quiet glade, and her ashes are spread to the wind in the customary elven fashion.

The selection of a new leader is the next task facing us all. Ikaroa and several others who travelled for Akenehi’s cremation, delay their return to help resolve the issue. So far, the strange mix of peoples who make up our community have worked closely together in harmony. Whether that will continue could be affected by our choice of leadership. The success, or otherwise, of Cassandra’s vision certainly depends on the right leadership.

“I propose a council of three,” says Ihapera, who must have discussed this issue with Akenehi when it became obvious that Akenehi’s days were numbered. “One Elf Maiden, one Atenex and one Thurnian.”

“In that case the choice is obvious,” says Ikaroa.

“Who do you propose?” I ask, not sure that the choice of only three is obvious at all.

“Makareta, Ihapera and Cassandra,” replies Ikaroa.

“Um ... I’m a Thurnian elf, like Makareta,” says Ihapera.

“Only by accident of birth,” replies Ikaroa, unmoved by Ihapera’s valid objection. “You’ve lived in Atene since you were an adolescent. You are Atenex at heart. Look how well you managed on Akenehi’s behalf these last few weeks.”

“What about you instead of me,” replies Ihapera to Ikaroa.

“No thanks,” laughs Ikaroa. “Too much wanderlust in me. If you want someone to explore the western forests, then count me in. Making plans and organising large groups of people is simply not for me.”

There’s further discussion, but nobody objects to the size and choice of the council. Like everything else, it needs to stand the test of time, but it isn’t as though we can’t elect more council members, or replace those who lose the support of the community.

The next phase of our grand plan swings into action. Ikaroa takes charge of exploring the western lands. She gathers a team of five, which includes a male and a female from the recently awoken Atenex.