The following morning, it was as if we had awakened to a different world, a different Taliswood, a new plane of existence. May and I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Lightning crackled outside, thunder rumbled in long and exaggerated peals that shook the host tree, rain came down in buckets. The sky was a slate gray, an ominous, seemingly sentient presence.

  This wasn't the Taliswood of yesterday. Carca had begun her reign as the new God of Death. No one was quite sure what that might mean. Perhaps even Carca didn't know.

  We laid there in silence, afraid to greet this day, but eventually, May sat up and rang the service bell. Timmins came in with a cautious step.

  “Yes, Your Majesty, what might you need?"

  “Oatmeal with strawberries and a glass of milk for me, Timmins, and, for His Majesty, the usual eggs, scones, and bacon, with coffee.”

  " Just so, Your Majesty,” and he scampered off.

  "We're going to pretend it's just another day?” I asked.

  “You would prefer a different approach, Darling? Should we hide under the covers? I don't know what else can be done, Tendil.”

  “Point taken, Love. We're still alive at least. Or I think we are. This doesn't feel like the Nez Ambril of yesterday, does it?”

  "No, it feels … altered in some way."

  When Timmins returned with breakfast, he said, “Your Majesties, when you've finished, Mother Felistia and Father Vastila request your presence in the chapel.”

  "Very well, thank you, Timmins. Where is Waldinor today?”

  "Waldinor is feeling a little under the weather, Your Majesty, and didn't want to get anyone else sick.”

  “We'll have to talk about it sooner or later, Darling,” I was coaxing and she could tell.

  “I can talk without being made to feel like a child, Tendil.”

  “I'm sorry, May, I just feel so confused. Well, what did the old god of Death do? Did he kill people?”

  " As far as I know, Love, he was basically just a psychopomp. But it all depends on the beliefs of the newly deceased. Are they having their souls weighed, their hearts read, do they have fare for the journey, etc. For Elves, especially followers of élois, Death takes you back to the Great Tree from whence we all came and there are no conditions. If you led an evil life, you will wilt under élois’s glare for eternity.”

  "And what if there were no psychopomp to guide you, Dearest?"

  “Then I would wander the Flat Fields, Love. Possibly forever if a guide never comes I suppose, no trees, no hills, rivers, no landmarks, the sun always overhead, so no concept of time or direction. There is hunger and thirst but no food or water. This is where wandering souls abide until their psychopomp comes to their relief. For followers of élois, this being usually takes the form of a great red deer or a red fox. The deer is named Ranzir, the fox is Fantilli. If you can befriend either creature, they will lead you to the Great Tree.”

  “What is it like with your religion?” she asked me.

  "I think I'm going to switch to éloisism since I've actually seen him. My family worships Barga, she's the goddess of the hunt and the hearth in Feerslandic myth, the Great Warrior Mother, depicted as a woman with a spear hunting from the back of her great white steed, Fjorlic. When you die, a being called the Shade comes and guides your soul to the Great Mead Hall. Old warrior religion in Feersland. It doesn't predate the Elves, but it's mighty damned ancient by Human standards.”

  “But regarding Carca, what role she has carved out for herself, who knows, but Death is almost always neutrally aligned. So, if her intent is evil, she's going the long way around, don't you think?”

  "Tendil, I haven't a clue what her motives might be. Let's get dressed and go see Vastila and Felistia. Perhaps they've got some answers by now."

  We found the two religious leaders kneeling at the small altar in that tiny chapel in which I had met the fake Felistia. Being as quiet as possible, we snuck in and took seats on the back pew.

  Vastila heard us and turned to speak, "Good Morning, Your Majesties. I hope you rested better than your appearances would suggest.”

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  "Not much better, no, Father. Our thoughts keep us awake these days.”

  "As is the case with us all, My Queen," he replied.

  I had to interject, “Father, Mother, last night I witnessed two titans battling from the veranda here, élois and the Black King. What came of that struggle?”

  "First, My Prince, we don't mention that name in a holy place,” I was admonished.

  "In answer to your question, you likely didn't see a current fight. On nights like last night, when the veils between the planes are at their weakest, we see echoes of battles between the gods from millennia ago. I may well be wrong, you may have seen it as it was happening. But those two have battled for at least 500 years. They will likely fight until the Last Days.”

  "Well, what has been the result of all of their bloodshed, Father? It feels like we lost.

  “We neither won nor lost, My Prince. Much is still to be decided, but by less cataclysmic means. We haven't spoken to élois since last night. For now, the conduit is broken.”

  Mother Felistia added, "But we do know where Carca is, she's been flitting back and forth between Yis-Gláz and our Necropolis, what the Barrow Elves call ‘Moss City.’”

  “As long as we can keep an eye on her, I'm not terribly concerned about Carca,” said May; "I would like to meet with her soon though if that's even possible anymore.”

  Father Vastila answered, “We can reach her through standard prayer and supplication. Whether she chooses to respond or not is her prerogative.”

  I got a strange feeling, "We're about to go to the Necropolis, aren't we?”

  May held my hand, giving it a squeeze, "Yes, My Dear, we are,” and smiling.

  As we walked back to our rooms, it occurred to me, “Do we even know who the leader is in the Necropolis?”

  “Do you remember the name Milost Phaeronyón?”

  " Yes, the Elf who was publicly flogged?”

  "The same. Time to see if this diplomatic side of you I keep hearing about has any weight.”

  It took but a little recall on my part to put a plan into place for Milost Phaeronyón. Number one was recognition for his actions during the Siege of the Black Banner. Two was establishing a park in his honor near the center of town. Three was a different kind of military honor that would seal the deal. Relations with the Barrow Elves would soon be mended, or at least patched.

  As we approached the lychgate, two very veteran rangers stepped into our path, crossing glaives and looking terribly menacing.

  May announced, in her commanding voice, “We are here to see the White King, Milost Phaeronyón! Step aside!”

  The elder of the two, a sergeant said, "No one past this point without express written orders, Your Majesties! Apologies!”

  The sergeant seemed to be wishing he was far away from this kind of confrontation. Despite some bad blood in the past, May was still wildly popular among the Barrow Elves.

  “I hate to put you in the middle of this, Sergeant …”

  "Enbryón, Your Majesty, Sergeant Enbryón."

  May went on, "As I was saying, Sergeant Enbryón, I hate to ask, but would you please go and let your king know that his royal neighbors wish audience with him. Respectfully. Make sure you say ‘respectfully.’”

  With a crisp "Yes, Your Majesty,” and a click of the heels, he was off.

  May spoke quietly with the private still standing there.

  “Did you see any combat yesterday, Private?"

  “Yes, Your Majesty. I did. Against the mercenaries, though it hardly seemed sporting. They had no fire in them."

  “Yes, Private, the mercenary pay may seem wonderful until you're asked to trade your life for it. You were fighting for something. They weren't."

  "What do you think about the events with Carca?” I asked.

  "I'm just a soldier, Your Majesty. I leave those thoughts to greater minds than mine. I don't even know what it all means.”

  "That makes two of us, Private. Thank élois we have the Rangers on our side.”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty!"

  Sergeant Enbryón double timed back to the lychgate to inform us that we would be seen by His Majesty, the White King, and we followed him up the slight hill leading to the Royal Crypt.

  All that had changed since my last visit was the lack of skeletal warriors and the presence of the White King with whom I was not formally acquainted.

  “Your Majesty," I bowed deeply and May gave a very regal slight curtsy.

  “Our mission here today is a simple one. We seek stronger ties and a healthy relationship with you and your people. To that end, you are being awarded the Queen's Medal for Exceptional Bravery for your actions during the Siege of the Black Banner, hereafter to be called the Milost Phaeronyón Medal.”

  “Further, a new park in the city center will be named Ranger Park in your honor.”

  “Thirdly, we will be establishing a Foreign Legion within our ranks open to any who meet your standards to consist of Rangers trained heavily in the area of stealth and subterfuge. A unit of elites.”

  “Ranger Park is hereby set aside for the daily use of Barrow Elves to beg alms and to publicly flagellate themselves if they so desire.”

  “How do these actions sit with you, Your Majesty?"

  “Honestly, Prince Tendil, Queen May, it's overdue, but I'm extremely grateful. Thank you both."

  "Have you heard from Carca, Your Majesty?” I asked.

  " I've heard of her, not from her. We have a magnificent young Warlock, Shindur is her name, who has been tasked with trying to keep an eye on her. The last information I received was that she was in Yis-Gláz savoring the opulence and rooms full of gold. As if gods need coin.”

  “Considering her origins, it may take her a while to get used to it, I replied.”

  “Of what ‘origins’ do you speak Prince Tendil? Carca’s family were fabulously wealthy Dark Elf amber merchants before her father's death. She went her own way for a long time but, when she came back for the funeral, she just stayed here with him. Her siblings took all the money, left her nothing. But this became her home anyway. She has no use for the world any longer. Which makes this recent move doubly troubling, or curious at the least.”

  I was trying to add it up in my head but to no avail.

  “I think May and I need to visit Yis-Gláz. It's an excellent diplomatic opportunity if nothing more comes of it."

  May put her hand on Milost’s shoulder and said,

  "We'll announce all of your honors publicly when we get back, Friend, Your Majesty.”