the humans’ hearts with hate, even mankind tired of the bloodshed. Only the Reaper’s personal guard, the Horsemen of the Red Hand, still hunted the Elves. A few years later when finally the Red Hand vanished from the world, the Elves that remained were driven into what is now known as the March of Sylonia. What remains of my mother’s people are there.”
Julian shifted uncomfortable at the horrible story. “Why do they stay there?” The boy asked, “If the Death God is gone can’t they return to their lands?”
“The Elves are few now and their lands belong to humans. The Elven race is still hated by most of mankind. A few strike out on their own, some even live outside Sylonia, like my mother. They try to dwell among men, but most of them just live in the poverty and misery of the March shunned and despised by mankind.”
“Why is it you don’t live in Sylonia, Kian? Then you could be with people that don’t hate you.” The boy’s eyes went wide, and he held his hands out to the swordsman. Kian could see Julian thought he had said the wrong thing.
“I don’t hate you. I was talking about other people.” Julian corrected himself.
Kian wrapped his black cloak tighter around himself; the night air had grown colder. “I cannot. The Elves hate those of us with human blood more than your church does, Julian. Those of us you call “half-breeds” have no home. We aren’t wanted by the humans or the Elves. Both races look on us with contempt.” Kian didn’t want to talk about his heritage anymore, so he decided to change the subject. “That is enough stories for one night. I think you should rest now and try to sleep. You can travel with me tomorrow if you wish. I will see you get safely to a village or town.”
Julian yawned. “I am tired, and I will go with you in the morning, Kian.” The swordsman pulled a small blanket from his pack and gave it to the boy. Julian curled up on the ground near the fire. In the distance, a wolf howled. “Kian, do you think the Reaper will ever come back from hell?”
The half-breed threw a few more sticks on the fire and settled down with his back against a tree—he had scared the boy with his story. “The Old Gods are gone, Julian they have been for a very long time. I don’t think they will ever return, now go to sleep.” Kian looked at the boy and saw he already slumbered.
***
Morning came and they ate a sparse breakfast of dried meat and hard bread. Kian was glad to have the horses; he would be able to travel much faster now. He picked a big chestnut mare from the trio of horses; Julian rode a smaller grey mountain horse. The mountain horses weren’t fast, but they were steady and strong. Kian was not an accomplished rider, he could count the times he had ridden on one hand, but his balance was uncanny so he had little trouble controlling the mare.
Julian told Kian his story as they rode along. Most of it focused on his mother, Kian could tell by the way Julian talked that he had been very close to her. “When I get older, I will find out what happened to her even if I have to go to Baron Serban’s castle myself. If he harmed her, I will kill him for it,” Julian said with conviction. The boy made Kian think of his own mother. “If anyone harmed my mother I too would want revenge. Gildor always said that vengeance was a dangerous thing, and it must never consume a man’s life.”
Julian brushed his course brown hair out of his eyes. “Why did he think it was dangerous? I think it would be dangerous for the man you were seeking revenge on.”
Kian grinned. “I said that very thing to my master, he said that if a man let the pursuit for revenge become the most important thing in his life one day it would devour his soul, and in the end he would be left with nothing.”
Julian was silent for a moment, taking in what Kian had just told him. “If someone hurt your mother, what would you do, Kian?”
The swordsman stopped his horse and looked at the boy. The swordsman’s brows lowered, and Julian leaned away from the Half Elf’s intense gaze. “I would kill them.”
Keeping the Blue Dagger Mountains to