The Prince's Mark

The Road to Dezmer - Six

Immense relief washed over Mirthal as they crossed the border into Aodehn. So many awful things had happened to him in Winlea, but now that it lay behind them things would go much more smoothly. He was sure of it.

Tracou and Pendaer both seemed to be less sure. They didn't mention it out loud, though. Pendaer stayed silent more often, keeping his ears open for anything that might be in the distance. When left alone, something that he insisted on more and more lately, Tracou had taken to glaring at his wand. It pained Mirthal to see him so worried especially when, honestly, he shouldn't fret so much. Once Mirthal became proficient with a sword he could protect them both. Mirthal and Pendaer practiced sword fighting every night and, sooner or later, Mirthal would become adept. Then he would be able to compensate for Tracou's weak areas, just like Tracou did for him. Maybe Tracou would even look at him with the same awe Mirthal had when he had appeared before him in the darkness of that dungeon.

Sword fighting was both more and less difficult than Mirthal had expected. Pendaer had insisted that they use sticks to practice with before graduating to using the actual swords, which Mirthal had complained about. He had given in after Tracou had pointed out that they might end up breaking the swords somehow. If they broke their swords, they wouldn't be able to get replacements in Dezmer. Tracou mentioned over and over that dezmek didn't use knives to cook with, let alone actual weapons. What a strange place! Even elves used knives to chop or carve things.

Because Mirthal was the Prince of the Elves, Pendaer had to be patient with him as he taught him. That fake patience strained Pendaer right up to his limit.

The main thing Mirthal had to improve on was treating the sword like it was a sword and not a club. Bashing someone over the head made the most sense to him, but that was not how swords were used so he had to stamp down that instinct. Pendaer had spent hours simply working on Mirthal's grip.

But Mirthal didn't mind how much time they took. Now deep into Aodehn, Mirthal would have spent months swinging his stick around if he had to do so. Dezmer and Winlea didn't share an actual border, so if one wasn't traveling by sea they had to go through Aodehn to reach Dezmer. It was still cold in Aodehn, but less so than in Winlea. They didn't have to drown themselves in furs just to sleep.

Aodehn was so much better than Winlea. As far as Mirthal was concerned, Winlea was a terrible place full of terrible people. Not everyone was terrible—Sakshi was weird but not a monster—but enough people were that he had no intention of ever visiting again. If anything, he would be happy to see the country gone. Tracou and Pendaer sometimes spoke about Winlea possibly attacking Dezmer which would be awful, of course, but Winlea couldn't start a war so quickly. Moreover, Winlea would either have to pass through the ocean or through Aodehn to get to Dezmer. They couldn't move silently.

As they approached Dezmer, Tracou mentioned Pendaer's punishment again. It had been a while since Mirthal had promised him that he could do as he pleased with Pendaer, but he hadn't forgotten about it. Ultimately, it was all up to Tracou. If Mirthal had to decide how to punish Pendaer, he would have been at a loss. At home, his mother was queen and thus had the final say in things like these. She likely would only see that Pendaer had managed to bring Mirthal back home. Everything else would be irrelevant, no matter how hard Mirthal argued otherwise. If the queen could be argued with, then Pendaer wouldn't have been his retainer in the first place.

One day, as they were setting up camp, Mirthal knelt on the ground, helping Tracou start a fire the human way ("Should learn just in case," Tracou had muttered to himself) when Tracou gestured for him to lean down. Curious, Mirthal did so. Tracou then moved his face up towards Mirthal's ear. Before he could do anything more, Mirthal jerked back, eyes wide.

"Don't do that, Tracou—elf ears are sensitive..."

Back at the waterfall, Tracou hadn't even whispered directly into his ear but it had given him goosebumps. It would be difficult to think of anything but the way Tracou's breath felt against his ear if he did it for real.