Chapter 1

Pardin settled back into his newly mended chair, enjoying the smell of the peeled wood that he had used to reset the arms. The roots of the small tree were used to make tea and the branches carried a slight scent of the aromatic as well. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to relax without counting off all of the tasks still ahead.

He was a young man fleeing a dismal future. Having found the furthest corner in the darkest shadow of the Western Mountains, Pardin had laid claim to a small neglected cabin that decades of hunters had probably used during hunting season. He was concerned that the hunters would be returning because the woods were teeming with game. There was a hint of the coming chill in the air signaling the hunting season but the hunters hadn't arrived. Were they coming at all? The uncertainties worried him constantly.

Perhaps the days of hunting the great game had come to an end with war in the plains on the far eastern side of Lord Hinderblast's domain. The hunters, if they were still alive, could be deep in the ranks of the lord's conscripted army he surmised. After all, ten years of Hinderblast's follies had emptied the countryside of able-bodied men. Ten years of conscription had also forced their husbandless families to retreat from the remote farms and ranches to closer villages and cities that offered jobs and a modest bit of safety.

Surely Hinderblast's vanity would be the death of all his subjects as he refused to relinquish some sliver of land for which no one gave a damn. Who cares about honor and pride when your dad is buried on some nameless battlefield? "Damn that lord's soul to oblivion" was a common refrain in Pardin's village. Damn and damn again but his death couldn't come soon enough to save more souls from the bloody fields.

Two weeks back Pardin had watched a pack of mountain wolves cross a meadow up one of the near mountain's flank. The males had taken note of Pardin and continued walking, escorting their females and their adolescent cubs. Their game of staring him down unnerved him. Where they were going, Pardin couldn't guess, but they were moving swiftly. They had shown no fear of him, which had made him more ill at ease.

He added their presence to his list of concerns of which the lord's army was at the top. When rumor of conscription gangs had reached his ears while selling his mother's herbs at the county market, Pardin had begun to make his plans. Disregarding any further coin that he could have made, he bundled up the herbs and ran for home. Even though his village was a two day march down a lonely road, Pardin was certain that the gangs would leave no village untouched. If they were coming to conscript men in the Northeastern County again, after having swept through only nine months previous, the gangs were desperate for army recruits. The lord had lowered the age for conscription since then as well. Having come of age since the last sweep thanks to Hinderblast's new law, Pardin knew what was in store for him if he did nothing.

He kissed his mother goodbye as she slept and he took up his father's hunting gear. In the middle of the night, he slipped out of the village when no wandering eyes could see. A few coins could buy a lot of information in his village of Maggie's Key and he wasn't willing to trust any of the residents, even his mother.

In the deep of night, he fled along the path leading to the cold high mountains. Only the most foolhardy or hunt-crazed people took this ancient road. At the end of the road was one of the three known entrances to the lands of the accursed magical folk. Though none of the magic folk had been seen in recent memory, the tales of human encounters with trolls, dwarves, goblins and even the mysterious elves filled the homes of villages up and down the eastern spine of the mountains that separated the lands. Everyone knew the entrance wasn't closed or blocked. Lord Hinderblast didn't provide soldiers to keep watch over the ornately carved entrance that delved into the mountain to keep the magic out of the human lands. Anything could come or go.

Not far above the entrance, Pardin sat in his mended chair in his acquired home. The cabin had been built by skilled and patient hands on a short shelf of rock that jutted out from the side of the mountain. Protected from the backside and from rain runoff because of a second protruding shelf of rock above, the house was sound.

The builder had put in wood floors. The thick boards had been laid down in the rough and then their tops were sanded and sealed with oil. There were still odd gaps between the boards because the sides were not sanded but the floor was comfortable. The walls were thick timbers and the door was stout. Age had taken its toll and Pardin had spent his first week patching gaps where the timbers had split or gapped. Cut, unused timbers crowded the stone wall near the cabin behind some of the trees. Flint heads abounded in the area, and Pardin had used them to split new shingles for the exposed parts of the roof out of the weathered timbers.

The front of the cabin had one window with four small panes of glass in a square. At first Pardin had wondered at the expense of such a thing but he soon dismissed the puzzle as unsolvable. The small chimney had to be purged of rodent nests and the cistern had to be cleaned and resealed. The channels carved into the mountain ensured that the large cistern held water through the dry season. He had been busy since the moment he arrived and found this hideaway.

With a sigh Pardin leaned forward to test the tenderness of the two birds roasting on the spit in the fireplace. They were small things, half the size of turtledoves but their feathers were priceless. Tomorrow he would tap one of the evergreens farther up the mountain for some sap. He needed to make a glue to attach the feathers to his new arrows he already needed to replace.

The door shook. The knock at the door had Pardin jumping out of his seat looking in every direction; someone knocked again, only more insistent this time. Pardin stared at the only entrance as the realization dawned on him what the thuds meant - they had found him. Even in the farthest, darkest corner of the realm, they had found him.

He raised his fist and cursed the fancy window that allowed light to seep out of his home.

They were not going to take him alive or at least not without the fight of their lives, he silently vowed. Pardin picked up his long knife, which he had just sharpened and oiled. With his weapon in one hand he reached for the metal latch and released the bar across the lintel. His heart pounded in his chest.

Pardin's jaw was clenched and his lip was curled. He threw open the door and thrust his knife in front of his chest to take his attacker by surprise. The elf maid made a little squeak and took a step back.

"Scare a man half to death, why don't you!" Pardin roared. He rolled his head in both directions looking for the rest of the elven party. She was alone. His panic turned to confusion as he gazed at the elf in travel gear.

Regaining her composure, she crossed her arms and gave him a look of annoyance. "Is this human hospitality?" she sneered.

"Well, you could give a man a little warning, banging on the door after dark," Pardin said throwing up his hands in disgust. He had been sure that the conscript hunters had found him and when he saw it was a magical creature, he was thoroughly thrown. Why would an elf come into the human lands?