Races of Wild

CHAPTER 1ELVES6gathered a bit of grain and a few sweet herbs from the familygarden plot. Throwing the sack over his shoulder, he nimblyclimbed up the ladder and made his way back home.In the kitchen, he ground the grain and chopped the fruit,then added water and the sweet herbs to make a thin batter.He dropped portions of the mixture onto a hot griddle, andsoon had morning cakes piled on a plate and ready to eat.“Mmmm, breakfast!” said Tharivol’s cousin Heiven, rubbinghis hands as he came into the room. Soon the wholefamily was gathered around the table.“Your skill with cooking is improving,” said his great-auntas she helped him clear the table. “As is your aptitude with thebow. I was watching you on the practice range yesterday.”Warmed by Caewenan’s praise, Tharivol grabbed the longbowand longsword that Caewenan’s consort had lent himand headed off to weapons practice.Jyllia and her cousin Quarion joined him, and the threefriends arrived at the archery range together. Today’slesson would be hard—hitting a disk thrown into the airby the instructor.“You must first see your target,” said the young cleric ofVandria Gilmadrith gently. “Do not fire blindly unless you canpinpoint the location of the disk some other way. Ammunitionis too precious to waste in wartime.” Still, Tharivol grinnedand closed his eyes the next time the disk rose into the air.Listening intently, he tracked the motion of the target by thesound it made as it spun through the air. Releasing the tautbowstring at just the right moment, he heard the satisfyingsound of the disk shattering.“I am impressed,” said the Master of Arms, who had beenwatching the exercise. “Not all have honed their hearing tosuch an extent. I believe it’s time you served in the watch.”Tharivol was delighted, and he promised to report the nextmorning for assignment.“The watch!” exclaimed Jyllia. “I wish I could join.” Thethree finished their target practice and headed for the armoryto practice with their swords. After warming up, they pairedoff for sparring. Jyllia excelled in close combat, and she bestedTharivol in three out of four practice bouts. The instructorshook his head, adjusted Tharivol’s stance, and checked thebalance of his weapon. It was no use; Jyllia continued to shine,and Tharivol drew extra practices.Jyllia and Quarion waited for Tharivol to finish; then thethree wandered off to find some lunch. Munching on berriesfrom the bushes around the settlement, fresh peas fromJyllia’s garden, and some bread that Caewenan had baked theprevious day, they chatted about their other projects. Jylliawas studying jewelry making with Quarion’s grandfather,and she was nearly finished making a silver bracelet set withaventurine. Quarion intended to build his own house as soonas he came of age, so he was studying architecture under theMaster Builder. As for Tharivol, he was studying magic withhis great-aunt. So far, he had mastered several cantrips, andhe was well on his way to learning real magic.After the three finished eating, Jyllia begged Tharivol fora magic show, and he complied with a bit of prestidigitationthat drew a small crowd of their friends. Some of them pitchedin with their own tricks, and the spontaneous show soonattracted quite a few adults, some of whom produced a fewillusions to liven up the party.After the magic show broke up, the three friends went theirseparate ways. Tharivol found his great-aunt in her laboratorywriting scrolls. Taking pen and parchment, Tharivol workedat scribing some of his cantrips onto scrolls. After an hourof this activity, Caewenan began teaching him the words toa sleep spell. “Reach out with your mind for the power,” shesaid, encouraging him as he tried to learn the arcane wordsfrom her book.Tharivol tried, and he could feel an energy somewhereout there, an energy that was almost palpable, but whichsomehow eluded his grasp. The words didn’t seem to go withthe motions; and when should he toss the sand? Again hetried, and again. Just as he was about to give up, it happened!Understanding flooded his mind as he seized the energy ofthe spell and wrapped his mind around it. Searching aboutfor a target, he spied the caged songbird his aunt kept in thelaboratory, spoke the spell, and the creature promptly stuckits head under its wing and went to sleep.Bursting with pride, Tharivol wrote the spell in his spellbookand put it away for tomorrow. He couldn’t wait to showJyllia what he could do!Now, however, evening was fast approaching, and a dancewas scheduled in the common area under the full moon.Wylmara would be there . . . and maybe this time she woulddance with him.Tharivol went downstairs and helped himself to severalslices of the roasted pheasant his cousin had prepared, fillingthe rest of his plate with fresh vegetables picked from thefamily’s garden. For dessert, he made himself a fruit puddingwith the rest of the berries he had picked at lunchtime. Thenhe retired to his room to paint.Tharivol had learned to paint at his grandfather’s house,where he had last fostered, and he found it a pleasant andrelaxing activity. A sense of pleasure filled him as he pickedup his brush and applied himself to the landscape he wasworking on—a view of the setting sun across the meadowoutside the village. He could see the scene from his ownwindow, and tonight the sky seemed filled with unusuallybrilliant shades of orange, pink, and mauve.When he heard the musicians tuning up outside, he hurriedlychanged into his leather breeches and embroideredshirt and headed outside for the dance. Wylmara was alreadythere, and she accepted his invitation to dance. After onedance, she swirled away into a dance of her own, and eventhe elders were applauding when it was over. Then Tharivoldanced with Jyllia, and later joined a complex line dance withthe other young men. On into the night the elves danced,until the full moon hung high in the sky overhead.At last, the dancers began to slip away to their homes, oneby one. Tired but satisfied, Tharivol went up to his own roomand lay down to rest. He knew what he wanted to remembertonight—the thrill of memorizing his first real spell. Still,