Page 4

CHAPTER 4

BJORN

T he fortnight’s journey south transformed the world around me.

The dark, churning waters of Frostfjord gave way to the shimmering blue of the southern seas.

At Port Silverleaf, Smoke and I boarded a riverboat bound for Moonshine Hollow.

The riverboat carried an array of passengers I’d rarely seen in Frostfjord’s isolated realm: a gnomish family chattering excitedly about their relatives, a Sylvan couple with well-worn traveling packs on an adventure, and an orc merchant carefully selecting his seat to balance the small craft.

Even the half-elves, halflings, and dwarves aboard spoke of a world far more diverse than the one I’d known.

I reveled in the moment.

No one knew me.

I was just another passenger.

I chose a spot at the bow and watched the captain cast an enchantment.

With a muttered spell, he summoned a wind that filled the indigo-blue sail, emblazoned with the city’s emblem, a wide tree with a full moon on its back.

As we glided upriver, a picturesque scene of green with dots of vibrant color unfolded.

Whimsy willows with their iridescent leaves dipped their long branches into the water like ladies’ fingers trailing on the waves.

Tall cattails waved in sheltered covers.

Ornery horned goat frogs sat on a log, their beards drifting in the water, watching us suspiciously as we passed.

I closed my eyes, relishing the warmth on my skin.

“What, ho! Cupid swans! Everyone down,” the skipper called.

His warning had us ducking our heads as we passed a pair of Cupid swans drifting near the bank, their pink feathers luminous in the morning light.

At home, Mother would have thrown herself between me and any passing commoner to prevent an enchanted romance.

Cupid swans were notorious for zinging love spells at random passersby, causing the victim to fall in love with the next person they saw.

Here, I had no queenly mother to protect me.

I was just another passenger avoiding the matchmakers’ mischief, free to laugh with my fellow travelers at our shared predicament.

Sailing on, we passed white harts grazing in sunlit meadows, their gold-and-silver antlers glinting in the bright sunlight.

Spark lilies floating on green lily pads shot tiny fireworks into the air as we passed.

And once, I swore I caught a glimpse of a selkie’s curious face before she slipped beneath the water’s surface.

Soon, farms and homesteads came into view.

I spotted a man wearing a tall, pointed gray cap riding in a cart with a halfling.

Others walked with baskets in hand as though returning from the village.

Before long, the town itself came into sight.

Even from the river, I could tell Moonshine Hollow was a place of charm and wonder.

The town sprawled along the riverbank, its cobblestone streets winding past rows of crooked cottages and charming shopfronts.

Bridges crossed the river from a dense forest on the other side into the bustling town.

Banners depicting the city’s emblem hung on lampposts, snapping in the gentle breeze.

The buildings were a mix of stucco, stone, and richly engraved wood, with roofs sloping at whimsical angles, many adorned with patches of moss or ivy.

Window boxes overflowed with blooms in every imaginable shade, their sweet scent carried on the warm air.

Even from the river, I could see the uppermost limbs of the ancient oak tree at the center of town, its silver-tipped leaves shimmering softly in the sunlight.

Along the river was a bustling produce market, with vendors selling fresh fruits, vegetables, flowers, and magical trinkets.

A gnome playing the xylophone and a satyr with a guitar entertained passersby as townsfolk chatted, exchanged goods, and waved at passing neighbors.

The sound of a distant blacksmith’s hammer rang faintly through the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle hum of life around me.

As the riverboat docked, the skipper barked orders and ropes thudded as they hit the wooden pier.

The moment I stepped off the gangplank, my senses were overwhelmed in the best way.

The aroma of freshly baked bread mingled with the tang of river water and the earthy smell of the fruit market.

A soft breeze carried the sound of laughter and the murmur of casual conversation.

A dwarf balancing two wooden crates of vegetables bumped against me as he passed.

“Sorry, mate,” he said briskly, barely glancing up before moving on.

I couldn’t help but smile.

No bowing, no murmurs of “my prince,” no deferential stares.

Here, I was just another traveler, blending into the hum of daily life.

The anonymity settled over me like a comforting blanket, and I felt like I could breathe for the first time in years.

The dockmaster waited, checking each of us in with a scroll in one hand and an enchanted feather quill in the other.

When he reached me, his eyes traveled upward, noting my tall stature.

“Rune elf?” he asked.

“Ah, you must be here about Elder Thornberry’s unicorns.”

“I am, sir. I’m Bjorn…Bjorn Runeson,” I said, taking on the surname of my father’s Master of Horse.

I swallowed hard, as if keeping down the lie.

“Very good, very good,” the man said, gesturing for the quill to make a note.

“I would be much obliged if you could direct me to the elder’s house,” I added.

The dockmaster waved to a gnomish child sitting atop a barrel nearby.

The boy had been occupied with folding a piece of paper.

“Boy!” he called.

“Come here. Take this gentleman to Elder Thornberry.”

The child hopped off the barrel, his eyes wide when they met mine.

“Whoa, I’ve never met a Rune elf before.”

I smiled and ruffled his hair.

“I’ve come from Frostfjord, home of King Ramr Runeheart.”

The boy smiled widely and then looked at Smoke.

“Sir, your wolf is on fire!”

I chuckled.

“He’s a firewolf. The flames are merely an enchantment. It’s magical fire, not dangerous unless he means it to be. He merely…sparks.”

The boy grinned widely, staring at Smoke.

“Wow. Okay, come with me.”

I handed a coin to the dockmaster and followed the excited child.

The boy had folded the paper into the shape of a bird.

With a flick of his wrist and a whispered incantation, causing a purple spark, the paper bird floated into the air, its paper wings flapping as if it were alive.

It flew ahead of us, turning its tiny head back to check that we followed.

“It’s a compass bird,” the boy explained proudly.

“It’ll lead you anywhere you want to go. Do you like it?”

“That is very handy magic,” I replied.

“We gnomes always make useful magic,” the boy said with a grin.

The compass bird led us to Elder Thornberry’s house—or rather, estate.

House was hardly the correct term for the grand structure.

The home was a massive wooden construction with ornate beams, stucco siding, and many balconies adorned with flower boxes overflowing with blooms.

It sat at the edge of town, overlooking rolling fields and vineyards.

A flower-dotted pond sat before it.

Waterfowl with sapphire-colored feathers, their heads crested with plumes of silver, called to one another as they swam in the tranquil water.

Behind the house, I spotted a stable.

Fields of bloomberry vines, the bright pink berries glinting in the light, rolled on the slopes beyond the stately home.

“The elder lives here. You should have the compass bird,” the boy said, handing me the paper bird.

“It will help you find your way around Moonshine Hollow. All you have to do is tell the bird where you want to go, and it will lead you on your way. Except in the rain. Don’t use it while it's raining.”

“Thank you very much,” I said, taking the paper bird from him. “What is your name?”

“Fisk,” the child replied with a grin. He was missing his two front teeth.

“A pleasure to meet you, Fisk,” I said, bending to shake his small hand. “And thank you for the warm welcome to Moonshine Hollow.”

“You’re very welcome!” Fisk quipped before dashing off.

Smoke barked once in his wake, causing the child to look back and wave before heading off again.

I folded the bird carefully and tucked it into my pocket.

“You ready to meet the elder?” I asked Smoke, who wagged his tail.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the front door of the house and knocked.

The door opened, and a woman in a bright pink dress appeared.“May I help you?”

“I am Bjorn Runeson. I’ve come to see Elder Thornberry about the unicorns.”

She eyed me over, then smiled. “Oh, of course, of course, from the Frozen Isles! Come in,” she said, glancing nervously at Smoke.

“He’s housebroken…and fireproof, I assure you.”

“Oh, how very enchanting,” she said, then gestured for me to follow her inside. “Elder Thornberry is meeting with the other elders. Let me go and tell him you’re here. I know they’ll all be excited to meet you. Everyone’s been so worried about the unicorns.”

She led me down the narrow halls decorated with beautiful paintings, the images thereon moving: the clouds rolled across the sky, the trees shook, and the flowers bent in the breeze. The wooden trim within the house was elaborately carved with intricate leaves, flowers, and swirling designs. We finally went to a waiting room with a wide fireplace, cozy-looking chairs, and a large window.

“I’ll let them know you’re here. Have a seat,” she said then opened a door, slipping into an adjoining room. Within, I saw several people seated at a round table.

As I waited for the elder, I went to the window overlooking the vista behind the magnificent house. The hills behind the manor rolled with bloomberry vines. As well, there were vast stretches of green hills dotted with wildflowers where horses grazed. I smiled at the sight, vastly different from the frozen waters and icy tundra of the mountains around Frostfjord. I exhaled deeply, feeling something unknot inside me, releasing a tension I felt like I’d been holding my entire life.

Beside me, Smoke whined happily and then pawed my hand. “You feel it too?”

The door opened behind me, and a man appeared. A halfling man crossed the room, his hand extended. He was finely dressed, wearing a handsome brocade robe and a small, pointed cap with a tassel hanging from its end.

“Bjorn Runeson, is it?” he said, smiling broadly as he shook my hand vigorously. “Well met. Well met. I am Elder Thornberry. It’s a great pleasure to meet you here, far from the frozen north. It has been quite a journey for you, hasn’t it?”

I took his hand in a firm shake and gave a slight bow. “Sir. Indeed, but I was delighted to leave the cool winds behind and be greeted by your warm summer breezes.”

Elder Thornberry laughed heartily. “We’re grateful to King Ramr for sending you,” he said then looked at Smoke. “And you are?”

“This is Smoke, my firewolf.”

“Handsome boy,” he said with a smile. “We are so glad to have you here. As I mentioned in my letter, we are dealing with a mysterious illness that has afflicted our unicorns. They graze deep in the valley, out in the hills,” he said, gesturing toward the window, “but we’ve brought in a mare and her foal, who seem particularly affected. They’re in the stables. Let’s have a look…after breakfast.”

“Given the urgency of the situation, perhaps I should?—”

“Nonsense, my boy. I can’t expect you to work on an empty stomach. And you haven’t lived until you’ve tried the baked goods from The Sconery. Rosalyn—she’s the baker—has magic in her hands. Come. It’s been a long voyage. Come and eat. And we’d best hurry up. The other elders have already gone in. They may be all prim and proper, but they eat like wolves when the Sconery is involved,” he said with a laugh, then turned to Smoke again and added, “No offense to your good boy here, of course.”

I had to admit, I was feeling very hungry. I had not eaten since the ship from Frostfjord, and the food had been meager fare even then. “Very well. Lead the way, sir.”

“Good. Good. Come,” the elder told me, taking my hand. “Onward, my boy, to love at first bite!”