Resolute in his rejection of his prophesied destiny, Chork resumes his quest for knighthood. With his dire wolves Maul and Dirk, The Last Born departs from the free town of Donham. Leaving behind his best friend Elvenhawk, Chork makes for Gunter’s Island, home to the Order of the Knights of the Lily, half a world away.

During this leg of his journey, The Last Born encounters other Hummingbird Wizards, bonds more last-born elves, and faces the greatest challenge to his chosen path – Elven Prince Ellessar of the Blue Leafs.

Meanwhile, the kingdoms of Brehm begin to crumble as Emperor Rhince’s plans take root. Civil war erupts in Giran. A religious schism arises in Goole. A plague of the undead assails Donham. Kidnappings and assassinations beset Monck. Mysterious invaders appear in The Bog, home of the Swamp Elves. An impending alliance between orcs and bugbears threatens the Elven Forest.

A Knight’s Loyalty, the third book in The Last Elf Series, continues the coming-of-age tale of Chork, the last elf born in the fantasy world of Brehm – a land of magic and ancient and young races unaware of the schemes of an evil sorcerer bent on “dominion over every drop of water, every speck of dust, every seed, and every life.”

Chapter 1 – A Brother’s Worth

Chork, The Last Born, had to escape the self-serving advice of the three elves who pretended to be his friends. He bolted from Shatayir Sanie’s upstairs kitchen, down the staircase, and out through the scrivener shop’s front door into the starless night of Donham.

He wanted to relieve his frustration with a yell so loud that the creator of all things, The Only One, would hear his pitiful anguish and come to his aid. His yell began deep in his throat but choked off as a thought stabbed his mind.

Even if heard, my irritation would only amuse Her. At best, She might raise an eyebrow and smirk. More probably, She would ignore me and do nothing.

Dire wolves Maul and Dirk assumed their usual positions on either side of Chork, mewling in concern over their friend’s frustration and anger.

The elf reached down to give each a pat on the head. “It’s not you, my true and only friends,” he said. He threw a thumb toward the shop. “It’s them. They just won’t listen to me. They pose as friends and advisors only to get what they want. The fulfillment of that damn Prophecy.”

Chork snorted. “That Billy Tipton claims to be the Tower of Learning’s authority on it. You heard her say that. And, her comrade Pox said it was so. But she doesn’t even know what it means. ‘It means all or nothing,’ she says. ‘Some say yes, while others say no.’”

The Last Born scoffed, “And Elvenhawk? My bonded friend?” An angered exhalation flapped Chork’s lips. “Some friend. Oh sure, he saved my life here and there. Yet all the while, he hides his true intent. ‘Join our cause. Become a Blue Leaf. Fulfill the Prophecy. It’s your destiny.’”

Chork gave each wolf another pat. “Well, my true friends, the only destiny I’ll fulfill is my oath to Dame Pogi and Edmod and Aelmar and the Kent Archers and …”

The scene of Kent’s destruction flashed into the elf’s mind. He swatted that nightmare aside, replaced it with the memories of the town’s boar roast – a day of food and drink, dancing and singing, laughter and joy.

Maul broke the elf’s reverie with a short bark. The dire wolf’s large snout pointed toward a man who stood across the road in the rubble of the Canary’s Saucer Inn. Earlier that night, a magical green fire had consumed half of the inn. It was the owner, Mahdi ‘al Jusur, who gleaned what he could from the destruction.

Fingering an oversized coin in his pocket, Chork said, “It’s time to see what a real friend can do for us.” He gestured for the wolves to follow.

At Chork’s approach, Mahdi looked up and sighed, “Ah, Elfling, there is nothing of worth to recover. All must be rebuilt or replenished. Worse is the loss of lives. They will never be replaced.” He shook his head and let out a long, slow breath. His eyes teared. “The Great One counsels us to accept our suffering and move on.”

“It’s time for me to move on,” said Chork. He handed the coin to Mahdi. “Your brother gave me this after I saved his life on the Sun’s Anvil.”

With raised eyebrows, Mahdi accepted and examined the coin. On its face was the likeness of Sa’Mael, his brother. A bridge joining an anvil and a bucket graced the obverse. Mahdi kissed the coin and returned it to Chork.

A bit confused, Chork began, “Sa’Mael said that …”

“When presented, this coin would name you a trusted friend deserving of assistance with any matter.” Mahdi nodded his head and smiled. “What is it you wish? You have only to ask.”

“I need to get to Gooleport. To the docks. To board a ship for Gunter’s Island.”

“Just you?”

“And my friends.” Chork indicated Maul and Dirk, who sat patiently at his sides.

Mahdi cocked his head. “There are two routes. Water and land. But that is obvious.” He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Both are long journeys, each with advantages, both with their own special troubles. Which would you prefer?”

“The fastest.”

“A hired boat, down the Monck River, around the Spit, into Gooleport.” Mahdi creased his brows and bit at the inner side of his cheek.

“You won’t arrange it.” A frown followed Chork’s disappointed tone.

“No,” said the dark-haired Mahdi. “I mean, yes. Yes, I can. But it’s them I consider.” Mahdi gestured to the wolves.

“They will follow wherever I go.”

“Mayhaps that speaks more of their feeling for you, and not of your feeling for them.”

The Last Born considered Mahdi’s words. “I … I didn’t think … I, uh …” Chork glanced at Maul and Dirk with a look of sadness and guilt.

“Now, by horse,” offered Mahdi, “you could make the journey in almost the same amount of time. And,” he raised a hand in admonishment, “you wouldn’t risk their lives by foundering and drowning, especially in the open sea around the Spit.”

Chork knew what Mahdi said made sense. The Last Born grinned and nodded his head.

“Good. In my stables, I have a horse more than capable of such a journey. One befitting your stature and need.” He waited for Chork to nod again. “Of course, you’ll also need coin to pay your way. I have plenty of that too.”  Raising an eyebrow, Mahdi quipped, “But not in my stables.”

With a final glance at the destruction before him, Mahdi ‘al Jusur gave a long sigh. “Alas, there is nothing here to salvage. Shatayir and I must rebuild. He’ll finally get the kitchen he always wanted. Come, Elfling. You can ride in the carriage with me. Your dire friends can follow alongside.”

Mahdi turned to address his servant whose attention focused on a growing disturbance on the other side of the inn’s remaining structure. The tall bearded retainer moved to draw his scimitar.

“Azmi, what is it?” asked Mahdi, straining to see what the man saw.

As the heated words in the distance ended, Azmi relaxed and turned to his master. “Nothing, Daif. What is it you wish?”

“Azmi, please inform Masters Haani and Yoosef that I expect their men to begin work at sunup. We have much to do.”

“But, Daif,” objected Azmi, “it is late.”

Mahdi untied a hefty purse from his belt and tossed it to Azmi. “Use this wisely but make it worth their while.”

“How will you get home?”

“I am quite capable of driving a barouche, Azmi.” Mahdi gestured with his hand. “Now hurry. As you said, it is late.”

Mahdi slid into the carriage and grasped the reins. “Climb aboard, my friend,” he said to Chork. “On the way to my stables, I’ll tell you about the road before you and the best places to stop and rest. Three Graces is the first …”

#

Not a full hour later, Chork eyed a dark brown horse with a white and brown spotted rump.

Mahdi had selected this horse from among an itchoak of larger palfreys and rounceys, any of which would have met Chork’s satisfaction.

“He has an easy gait, even at a gallop,” said Mahdi, the admiration obvious in his tone. “He remains calm in battle. His stamina is unmatched by any stable in Donham. He can find and lead you to water, though I doubt you’ll need him to do so. His night vision is better than most horses. He will serve you well on your long journey.”

Mahdi urged Chork forward. “His name is Baeid Mutasabiq, Far-rider in the Common Tongue. His ancestry has deep roots in the Moon’s Quench, where his kind are much-valued and profitably bred.”

Baeid jittered as Chork approached. But when the elf laid his hand alongside Baeid’s neck and stroked the horse’s smooth back, Baeid snorted and bobbed his head in acceptance.

Mahdi flashed the smile of a proud father. “He likes you. Give him this.” The Himari merchant handed Chork a red apple. “He would devour a bushel of them should you lay them at his feet. Just red ones. Not the green or yellow.”

Maul padded forward with his nose high in the air. He sniffed twice, sampling the horse’s scent, then gave a questioning yip.

Chork grinned and placed his left hand on Baeid’s neck and his right hand between Maul’s ears.

Friends, The Last Born thought.

A short, low thrum of magic sounded. Baeid joined the bonds between wolves and elf.

“You’re a beast master,” said Mahdi.

“No,” said Chork, “I don’t think so. I can’t control animals nor join with them.” He wiped a few drops of perspiration off his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. “I don’t know why I did that nor how.”

“Well, whatever you call it, they act as if they’ve known each other for years.” He pointed to the wolves and Baeid who calmly stood side by side waiting for Chork.

Mahdi gestured to a waiting stable hand. “This saddle will make your long ride comfortable and protect Baeid’s back and flanks. My father had it made for me in Boerne long ago.” He patted his stomach. “I have outgrown it. May it carry you to your destination safely and in comfort.” Mahdi mumbled a few words in his native tongue.

Hearing the thrum, Chork asked, “You possess magic?”

“I have acquired the ability to utter a few phrases for a minor enchantment or two.” Mahdi grinned and withdrew a fist-sized pouch from the folds of his shiny bright green robe. “Coin to travel. Should you need more in an emergency,” he made a strange warding gesture with his hands, “you will find it in the bags Sharaf now ties behind the saddle. Supplies and a change of clothes also are contained within.”

“I cannot thank you enough,” Chork said and extended his right forearm.

Mahdi took the arm and pulled the elf in for a hug and a clap on the back. “It is I who thanks you for my brother’s life. Should you need any other assistance, remember the token. An occasional Himari merchant travels your intended direction, but only by boat. In Monck City, you can seek them out where wine, silks, and spices are traded for grain and lumber.”

Chork mounted Baeid, nodded once to Mahdi, and rode into the night.