Page 183 of The Dryad Storm

Olilly jolts to attention as a regiment of dour-looking Vu Trin soldiers march into the city-size Eastern Subland cavern. Their boots thud martially against the stone of the broad, elevated ledge before her. Wide-eyed, she looks on, along with thousands of other Western Realm refugees and Smaragdalfar as well as smatterings of Noi citizens who have taken shelter here since the Magedom’s attack on Voloi.

Their surrounding tents and rough-hewn dwellings form a threadbare underground metropolis, everything lit by the green glow of countless Varg runes marked on the cavern’s stone. Large roots wind around huge, black-opal stalactites hanging from high above like a sea of spears. Olilly’s boyfriend, Kirin, and her friends Nym’ellia and Effrey stand beside her, along with Sagellyn Za’Nor’s teenage sisters, Clover and Retta, and Nym’ellia’s little sister, Tibryl.

Olilly reaches for Kirin’s hand at the same moment he reaches for hers, the young teens’ fingers protectively interlacing as Olilly’s heart patters, hummingbird fast. She meets Kirin’s dark gaze in a shared look of unspoken alarm, the sharp planes of his face illuminated by their underground world’s emerald light.

The Vu Trin halt in neat rows on the huge ledge, the only sound the constant chorus of coughing from those with the Red Grippe, scattered all around. A commanding soldier strides forward, the woman’s dark hair bound in ropy coils, two curved runic swords sheathed at her sides, a row of silver runic battle stars strapped across her chest. She lifts a rune-marked palm, and a sapphire voice-amplification rune blinks to life before her, suspended just beneath her chin.

“We are here to facilitate the immediate evacuation of all Noi citizens to the NoiSunlands,” she booms, her military-stern voice echoing off the purple-veined black opal stone. “By order of the Noilaan’s newly re-formed and named Vo Conclave,” she continues, “we extend an offer of Noi citizenship to all Smaragdalfar Elves who pledge fealty to the Vo Conclave and the Goddess Vo on High.” She scans the sea of people, her expression unforgiving. “All others who immigrated here from the West are ordered toimmediatelyreturn to your Western Realm countries.”

Distressed murmuring breaks out, then angered shouting as Olilly’s stomach drops through the floor. Kirin’s grip firms around hers as the hostile tension gains steam.

The newly appointed leader of the Smaragdalfar, Fyon Hawkkyn, strides past Olilly, Kirin, Nym’ellia, and Effrey, making his way toward the Vu Trin soldiers at a fast clip, anger radiating off of him in palpable waves. He halts just before the ledge, draws his emerald-glowing stylus, and swiftly conjures an amplification rune of his own.

“What is the meaning of this?” Fyon challenges, tone incensed. He jabs his emerald-patterned finger at the ground beneath his feet. “This is sovereignSmaragdalfarterritory. And our monarch, Ra’Ven Za’Nor, has opened the Sublands to those fleeing the Western Realm’s atrocities.”

“Your ‘monarch,’?” the soldier bites back, “has proved to be a traitor to this Realm.”

A sea of shocked murmuring goes up as Fyon’s stance tenses, and dread ripples through Olilly’s core.

“Ra’Ven Za’Nor and his Crow consort, Sagellyn Gaffney,” the Vu Trin soldier continues, “have allied with the Magedom’s Black Witch, Elloren Gardner Grey.”

Another wave of audible shock flashes through the entire cavern.

“Your people,” the Vu Trin soldier levels at Fyon, “were most graciously grantedtemporaryjurisdiction over Noilaan’s Sublands. Our Vo Conclave has deemed Noilaan is for theNoi, both the Sunlands above and the Sublands below. Which means you are standing onsovereign Noi territory. As Noilaan’s ruling force, weinsiston the immediate expulsion of Western Realm refugees, the creation of a Subland runic barrier to wall off the ongoing invasion of Westerners, and a pledge of fealty to Vo’s Blessed Vo Conclave and the Goddess Vo on High. Or the Smaragdalfar, too, will be expelled from Noilaan.”

“This is the Goddess Oo’na’s sacred ground!” an enraged-looking Smaragdalfar woman near Olilly snarls. The woman levels a finger up at the thick masses of roots winding around the sea of gleaming black-opal stalactites. “These are Oo’na’s roots!Notyour dragon goddess’s!”

Shouts of agreement boom out.

“The Smaragdalfar have one day to comply if they wish to be granted Noilaan’s most generous offer of citizenship,” the soldier stresses to Fyon, ignoring the woman’s outburst and the rise of livid voices. “Defy us, and we will take military action to reclaim our sovereign land.”

Fyon and the Smaragdalfar soldiers draw Varg swords as one, and the Vu Trin respond in kind, a screech rending the air as they unsheathe countless curved swords in a flash of sapphire. Olilly’s alarm threatens to tilt into panic as sounds of anger surge, and she and Effrey exchange a dire glance.

Mora’lee unexpectedly leaps forward toward the Vu Trin, Ra’Ven and Sagellyn’s purple-hued Icaral toddler, Fyn’ir, hugged close to her chest. She swiftly raises a stylus and conjures an amplification rune before her.

“We can’t go to war with each other!” Mora’lee cries out.

Two of the Urisk children she’s caring for—Sage and Ra’Ven’s adopted daughter, pink-hued Fern, and Mora’s recently adopted daughter, little blue-hued Ghor’li—rush forward to clutch hold of Mora’s tunic’s edge, stark fear on the young children’s faces. “We need to standtogether,” Mora’lee insists, looking pointedly at the toddler in her arms and the two children at her sides, “and with all those fleeing the Magedom’s madness!” Mora gestures all around. “Many here have fallen ill with the Grippe. They needmedicine, not expulsion from the Realm!”

“All Noi citizens who wish toremaincitizens,” the Vu Trin Commander booms out, paying no heed to Mora’lee, “are hereby ordered to come with us.Now.”

Olilly watches, stunned, as most of the Noi citizens who were sheltering in the Sublands after Vogel’s siege on Voloi surge forward, many dragging their fearful, crying children. Olilly is overcome by a sense of the whole world coming undone, everything spinning into dangerous chaos.

“Kirin...” Olilly stammers, her hand trembling in his.

Kirin pivots to face her, electrifying energy in his eyes that Olilly feels jolting straight down her spine, the spark of rebellion there stronger than anything she’s yet seen in him. “Iwon’t leave you,” he states. “And Iwon’tlet them drive you back West.”

“Kirin, get over here.Now!” Kirin’s belligerent father growls.

Olilly’s and Kirin’s attention snaps to Kirin’s father, Zosh Lyyo, the Noi man’s eyes set on Olilly with an eviscerating level of hate.

Kirin makes no move to let go of Olilly’s hand, his face a mask of fury.“No,”hegrowls back at his father. “This iswrong. They havenowhere else to go. Wasn’t ityouwho taught me about Vo’s compassion for those without shelter?”

“Vo’s compassion is for Her Vo’lon followers!” his father snarls. “Not forWestern filth!”

“Vo’s compassion is foreveryone,” Kirin counters before turning to Olilly once more. “I willnotleave you,” he vows, his voice shaking with passion as boots sound and Vu Trin soldiers begin to stream down from the ledge, surrounding the cavern on all sides, other Vu Trin ushering the Noi citizens toward a tunnel leading to the Sunlands. Kirin is undaunted. “I will stay and fight with you against the Magedom’s Shadow forcesandthe Vu Trin if I have to!”

“Take hold of my son,” Zosh Lyyo spits out to the nearest Vu Trin, gesturing sharply toward Kirin. “He’s too young to know what’s at stake here.”

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