Venom and Song (29 page)

“Yeah,” said Autumn. “Why all the secrecy?”

“Wait,” Jimmy interrupted, standing dramatically and extending his arms like a surfer. “Don't tell me, yu are both secret agents.”

This bit of drama was answered with nervous laughter, except for Johnny, who laughed aloud—until Autumn glared at him. “What?” he asked. “It was funny.”

“Where were you two yesterday, anyway?” asked Kiri Lee. She cleared her throat. “Goldarrow was worried.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” said Jimmy. “I canna' believe yu left me to play silly American football with Jett.”

Kat had been sitting on the bench nearest the edge of the balcony. She stood up and said, “It's about where we were yesterday. And, guys . . . this is serious.” Her voice cracked slightly at the end, and the smiles around the room vanished.

Jimmy turned red and slid to a seat on a stone bench along the inner wall.

Kat began, but she and Tommy told the story together, filling in each other's thoughts, sometimes interrupting to add some critical detail, . . . other times lending a nod or a somber shake of the head. They told about their discovery of the secret tower and the scarlet raptor. They told of the creature's testing their blood and giving them the ancient book. They told of the raptor's taking them on a long flight north. They told at last of their exploration of the abandoned fortress . . . and, upon their return to Whitehall, their reading the missing age of Berinfell history.

When Tommy and Kat finished, they met expressions of confusion, shock, anger, and sadness.

“They started it.” Jett shook his head. “All this fighting . . . all this death and pain, and the Elves started it.”

“Why?” asked Kiri Lee. “Why would the Elves try to enslave the Gwar?”

“From what we can tell, fear,” Kat explained. “Elves and Gwar lived together, kind of neighbors geographically. There was often trade between the two groups, and when the Elves wanted to put down roots and build their kingdom, it was partially on the backs of the Gwar that they built it.”

“But even then, the Gwar were willing to help,” said Tommy. “They were friends.”

“Right,” Kat went on. “But the Elves saw how strong the Gwar were and how they were becoming more and more advanced in the use of powerful stones and minerals. They feared the Gwar would turn on them and overrun them. And when a really harsh winter came over the land—”

“The Fell Winter of 7066,” Tommy chimed in. “It snowed so much that much of Berinfell was paralyzed. The Elves went to the Gwar for help, but they refused . . . the Gwar cities had their own problems.”

“This shocked and infuriated the Elves,” Kat explained. “The Gwar had never turned them down before. A faction of the Elves stirred up the rest saying that this was the first sign of a Gwar rebellion—that they needed to take decisive action. The Elves still had superior weapons and tactics, so they invaded the Gwar capital city, took the Gwar by surprise, and forced them to clear Berinfell of ice and snow.”

“After that,” said Tommy, “the Elves bought and sold the Gwar as property, like pack animals only worth as much as their muscle.”

“It got even worse later,” said Kat. “The Elves found a region where a valuable food grain called gildenfleur grew naturally. And they wanted to build a trade center there, a fortress.”

“But to do that,” said Tommy, “they needed stone, and the nearest quarry was eighteen leagues away.”

“A league is like three miles, right?” asked Autumn. “So that's fifty-four miles?”

Tommy nodded.

Kat continued the explanation. “The Elves made the Gwar mine the stone and then transport it. They had to build a fortress to be a center for their own slave trade. The Elves called it Cairn Umber, but the Gwar had another name for it: Fellmarch, after the long, bloody journey the Elves forced the Gwar to take. Thousands of Gwar died on that horrible road and in the construction of that fortress.”

“What's it mean?” asked Johnny. “Are we fighting on the wrong side?”

“Our ancestors did,” said Tommy. “We're all related to Elven Lords who either did hateful things or who did nothing while all this was going on.”

“But that doesn't mean we're on the wrong side,” Kat explained. “Many of the Elves were against slavery of any kind to begin with. For two hundred years they fought with the council to end it once and for all, to pay reparations to the Gwar, and seek peace.”

“Did it work?” asked Kiri Lee.

“According to the book,” said Kat, “the Elves signed a treaty with the Gwar in the spring of 5807. All Gwar were given unconditional freedom, land, titles, technology, crop stores, and gold. The Seven Lords issued a formal apology and requested forgiveness.”

“But then the Nemic invaded,” said Tommy.

“Nemic?” blurted Jimmy. “Who're they?”

“Whoever they are or were,” said Tommy, “they were fierce, superior to the Elves in many ways. They would have destroyed Berinfell if it weren't for the Gwar aiding them against the invaders.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Jett, pacing between the balcony and the wall. “After all that? After the killing, after the slaving . . . the Gwar still helped the Elves?”

Tommy nodded.

“Mannn,” said Jett. “That's just crazy.”

“What I don't get,” said Kiri Lee, “is if the Elves and Gwar signed a treaty and then fought together against a common enemy, why are they still fighting now?”

“That's where things get interesting,” said Kat. “See, not all the Gwar were willing to sign the treaty. In fact, about two-thirds of the Gwar were led away by one, Palor Irethrall. They broke away from the Gwar nation and settled in Vesper Crag.”

“You mean”—Jett wrinkled his brow—“the Spider King?”

“One and the same,” said Kat.

Tommy finished. “The Elves and the Spider King's Gwar have been at bitter war ever since.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Johnny.

“If you want my opinion,” said Tommy, “I think we should confront Grimwarden and Goldarrow about this.”

Jimmy stood up. “Yeah, why didn't they tell us this in the beginning?”

“But the books they gave us didn't have all that in them,” said Autumn, wearing a pained expression. “Did they lie to us?”

“That,” said Kat, “is a very good question.”

“You are late for training,” said Grimwarden. At first, he stayed focused on the sword blade he was sharpening in the lair's forge. But when the Seven walked in without saying so much as a good morning, he put down the sword and looked up. “You're not dressed for training, either.”

“We may not be training today,” said Jett curtly.

Grimwarden had seen more carnage in war, more overwhelming attacks, and more treachery than almost any living Elf, but something about Jett's cool pronouncement sent rivulets of ice down his spine. “Before I assign you twenty-one cords of wood to cut as punishment, can you defend such arrogance?”

“Tommy, you want to answer his question?” asked Jett.

“I think Goldarrow should be here as well,” Tommy said. “Guard-master, we have some questions. Something . . . something has changed.”

“I see,” he replied, the ice beginning to form on his spine once more. “Then I will go myself to get her. She is tending the garden on the windward hills.”

Grimwarden returned a lot faster than the young lords thought possible. A startled Sentinel stood at his elbow. “Lords,” Goldarrow said, “what's wrong?”

Kat looked to Tommy. They both found themselves speechless at first. Tommy finally stepped forward and placed the book in Goldarrow's hands.

Upon glancing down at the book, Grimwarden and Goldarrow wore expressions of confusion . . . of nervous curiosity. But when Goldarrow began turning pages, both their faces paled. Goldarrow's hands trembled.

“Where did you get this?” Grimwarden demanded.

Mistaking his tone for suspicion and anger, Kat responded in kind. “Why?” she asked. “Were you keeping it hidden from us?”

“Hidden?” echoed Goldarrow. “No Elf has laid eyes upon this manuscript for more than three thousand years.”

“I want to believe you,” said Tommy. “I really do. But we read the histories, Kat and I, and it's the same history that was in the books you gave us.”

“The same histories you've fed us here,” said Jett.

“The same except for more than seven hundred years of slavery,” said Kiri Lee.

“You led us to believe bogus histories,” said Jett, his face now more anguished than angry. “The Elves started all this! . . . You made slaves of the Gwar!”

“And I thought fer once,” said Jimmy, “that I might do somethin' good . . . be some kind 'a hero.” Jimmy's voice went high and thin. “We're not heroes. We're the bad guys in this story!”

“In the past, yes,” said Grimwarden. “But we will not be ruled by the atrocities of the past.”

“Jimmy, Tommy—all of you,” said Goldarrow, her own voice strained with sorrow. “I am sorry that you had to find out in this way. But please understand, the full history of Elves has been lost to all but the Old Ones for thousands of years.”

“The Old Ones?” several of the lords asked.

Grimwarden strode forward. “Manaelkin is not the oldest Elf to survive the sacking of Berinfell,” he said. “There are others, Elves solely devoted to Ellos who fled the corruption of our people. They keep scriptoriums— vaults of vital Elven documents—hidden in the safe places of this world. The Old Ones still teach and practice the customs prescribed at the founding of Allyra. Some of us, Goldarrow, Alwynn, and myself, have had the opportunity to learn from the Old Ones. Because of their teachings, we know much. But not all . . . far from it.”

“But you knew about the slavery,” said Autumn.

“And you knew that our histories were incomplete,” said Kiri Lee.

“Yes,” said Goldarrow. “We knew about the Elven enslavement of the Gwar. But we did not seek to deceive you.”

“That's what it feels like,” said Johnny.

“You were to be taught as much of the original history as we know,” said Grimwarden, “as a part of your lore studies here at Whitehall.”

“With all due respect, sir,” said Tommy, “that's easy to say . . . now.”

“Tommy!” Goldarrow said sharply. “Have you not already learned enough about the Guardmaster to grant him the benefit of the doubt? Have we, prior to this misunderstanding, given you any reason—any reason at all—for such suspicions?”

Tommy stared at his feet. In fact, of the Seven, only Jett and Kiri Lee still looked on.

“Having read the histories in this rare and ancient volume,” Goldarrow went on, “you now know more of our history than we do. But, THINK, if we had shared even our limited knowledge with you, would you have come back to your homeland with us?”

“I can answer that,” said Jett, undeterred. “No, I wouldn't have come. And I'm not going to stay, either. I don't want to be a part of any civilization that takes slaves.”

“You are not thinking clearly,” muttered Grimwarden fiercely. “For that, I forgive your rash words.” A blink and he stood directly in front of Jett, towering over the young lord. “But allow me to provide you with clarity. What began in 6866 is a bloody gouge in all of Elven history. But that ended thousands of years ago. Hear that, Jett. All slavery ended. It is over, in—the—past. And we are not the villains. Our ancestors confessed their atrocities and were forgiven . . . by many of the Gwar nation. But not so, the Spider King. He chose and continues to walk the path of bitterness.”

“Maybe he should still be mad,” said Jett. His voice was taut, but his posture less certain.

“Tell me, Jett,” said the Guardmaster, still directly in front of Jett. “How much blood will it take, then?”

“How much . . . what do you mean?”

“If, as you suggest, the Spider King—the Gwar nation even—is justified in their retribution, . . . their revenge war, how much Elven blood must be spilled to pay the debt in full? One Elven life for each Gwar life taken? What of the slaves who survived? Must one Elf die to make up for the life stolen away from a Gwar as a slave?”