Chapter 15

No amount of tea could soothe the pain Turi felt. It'd now been a couple of days since the palace attack. She couldn't begin to understand what could lead someone to commit such a violent act of destruction.

Heading up the investigation that was conducted in the immediate aftermath of the event, Turi had performed solidly and delivered a number of outcomes.

First, she had concluded the palace had been ripped apart, for lack of a better definition. Composting biomass left over by the production of wine had been sitting there, and natural gasification had compounded in large sealed vats, which were regularly taken away to be discarded. Setting a fuse to these had created a combustion powerful enough to bring half the palace down. Lots of wine. Lots of biomass.

All the wine and its supplies that were stored in the western wing were gone. So were three floors of the building and 43 elves. The ones with serious injuries were now out of danger, reported the healers. But 43 dead – a grave toll indeed for a little boozing pleasure.

Turi hung her head as she listened to the songs of lament that were resounding outside.

The singing had started following the attack and apparent loss of life. Day and night it continued, sounding out the collective grief of the Greenwood elves. Especially in early mornings like this, the mournful voices swept across the realm of empty walkways and clung to the dew and tree barks.

Second, taking charge of the rescue operation and investigation had galvanized her position as a leader, a doer, and someone to be taken seriously. No more pen neth – young one this or that. But what a price to pay.

She had taken charge alright, coordinating with border patrol and the armed forces to clear away rubble, set up tents for the healers on site, and ensure a stable reporting structure. Turi had been the one to point out the root of the eruption, finding remnants of the vats in the burnt out wine cellars.

'Good work boss', Bam said carefully over her shoulder. She nodded back because she couldn't speak. The thing was, she'd had to take responsibility.

Third, one of the dead was none other than Rhaidmir, head of the armed forces and her commander. Along with five captains of the elven armed forces, he was swallowed up by the collapsing stone and timber as their meeting room imploded. Many among a platoon of guards and other soldiers training in the enclosed courtyard below were equally trapped and smothered when the outside walls caved.

Tears were in Turi's eyes and her throat ached. The Dirs exchanged a meaningful look and then wrapped her in their arms. Gratefully, she answered their hug and they stood there wrapped together for a moment.

'Why would anyone do this?' Bra spoke. Bam shook his head, seeming close to tears himself. Turi sighed and broke away from the hug. 'Well they certainly achieved one goal' she said pensively as she walked over to the chair by the door on which her cloak was folded.

'Make an impression?' Bam tried. 'Weaken our defences' Turi answered. She put her cloak on and pulled the strings shut. Mornings could still be cold, but she hoped a walk in the fresh air would clear the emotional cobwebs from her mind.

The early light made the grass and trees look crisp, as Turi walked up the side of a steep-ish hill located behind the internal surveys office. Tackling the incline at a run now, she could feel her heartbeat increasing until she was out of breath. The pounding in her ears was almost smothering out the mournful voices that were sounding over the scene below. Almost.

Truth was, she felt guilty. Only a couple of hours before the attack she'd been suspicious of Rhaidmir, thinking he might be ready to overthrow Thranduil, especially following his critical speech at the assembly. Now she regretted ever thinking this way.

Feeling hot and red in the face, Turi sat down on top of the hill. Suddenly she became aware of a presence behind her in the bushes.

Remembering Mýlill's attack, she turned her body 180 degrees, ready to defend herself.

She looked into the deep blue eyes of a female elf with brown hair, who was looking at her with a mix of apprehension and... fear? Turi's eyes moved down to her hands, but she wasn't holding a weapon.

The female elf spoke, her voice soft and measured. 'I have something for you.' She dug into her cloak and produced a long thin package. 'For you' she said again, looking down at Turi.

Without accepting the package, Turi looked her in the eye. 'You are Duvainor's helper. The trader who burned, by your hand. I almost ran in to you that day.' Not waiting for a confirmation, Turi's eyes moved to the package. 'I can't guess what this is.'

'Don't guess' the elf spoke softly, and stretched her arms out even further.

'What is your name?' Turi asked as she carefully accepted the package, peeling away the wrinkled paper. In her hands she held a scroll and a dagger. The latter had dried blood caked on it.

Turi questioningly looked up, disgust etched on her face. 'Methedel. And that is the dagger that was used to attack Mýlill' the elf said. 'I was to deliver this package to you anonymously' she hesitated 'as a warning for further attacks to come.'

'But you didn't' Turi said. The brown haired elf looked into her eyes and shook her head. 'I didn't.' She genuinely looked worn out and scared, Turi thought.

'But you tied up another elf and left him to burn alive?' 'I.. know' she said. 'He was sedated.' She pleadingly looked at Turi, like asking her for some kind of absolution. 'They forced me into that.' She shook her head and cast her eyes down. 'But this can't go on.'

Methedel went on to explain that she had joined the cause and entered employment with the trader at their suggestion. 'Duvainor was a swine. His greed, he cared nothing for our heritage, or for anyone.' But the violence was more than she could stomach. The group coerced her after she started voicing her doubts, saying she was in too deep. Methedel looked genuinely lost.

Turi had so many questions. Who were the elves that were coercing her? Who was the cat? The brown haired elf's eyes widened. 'We.. we don't use names' she stammered, shaking her head. 'I call him the son' she said, 'and her the mother. I was the daughter.'

Turi got up, almost unsure of whether to arrest this elf on the spot, or to hug and comfort her. She looked so sad, so lost and frightened. But there was no way she was going to walk away.

Reading Turi's mind, Methedel said 'I'll help you put a stop to all this, but you have to let me go back.' Turi eyed her suspiciously.

For a while, the two elves stood together at the top of the hill, working out a plan. Turi was given the location of the cat's hideout. If Methedel stayed away too long now, they'd sense something was wrong and take flight. If however she returned, Turi had a chance of rolling up the entire operation later that same day.

The odds were great that this could all be over in a couple of hours.

As the brown haired elf disappeared back into the shrubbery, Turi hoped she'd made the right choice.