P.M. Biswas - Earthstone

Table of Contents

By P.M. Biswas

The Wanderwood is an accursed place, where treacherous elvish folk dwell in the shadows and trick any trespassers into wandering forever.

Or so the legends say.

Tam doesnt expect to be the one to prove them wrong.

Orphaned by the Great War against the evil King Danis, Tam is determined to fight as her parents did, even if she has to lie about her age. When Tam sneaks into the army, however, her first battle doesnt go as planned. Instead of returning victorious, Tam is gravely wounded. When she staggers into the Wanderwood in a feverish daze, she assumes shell die there.

She doesnt.

Something saves heror rather, someone saves her, someone with leaf-green eyes and cool hands and distinctly pointed ears. Perhaps the elves can be negotiated with after all and perhaps they can be allies in the war against Danis.

But centuries of mistrust will be hard to let go.

THIRD TIMES the charm, Tam muttered to herself as she snuck into the barracks. Well, fifth time. Or is this the sixth?

Wonderful. Tam was talking to herself, which meant she was nervous. She had to snap her mouth shut when two soldiers strolled past the corridor where she was hiding. Tam ducked into a cobweb-ridden corner to stay out of sight. She had an intimate knowledge of the barracks, having all but grown up in them, and that knowledge was now benefiting her.

The tragedy was that Tam had to do this at all. How unfair it was that she had to creep about like an interloper! She only wanted to serve her country, to serve Astaris. It was baffling that she was barred from doing so. This was her home. How could she not wish to defend it?

Brushing off the cobwebs now clinging to her hair, Tam slunk out of the corridor and into the laundry room, which stank as odiously as ever. Piles of sweaty, bloody unwashed clothing teetered next to a giant vat full of boiling water. It was into the vat that the clothes would be emptied. Steam filled the chamber, worsening the stench of all those filthy uniforms, lending the smell a dampness and a mustiness that had Tam wrinkling her nose.

A matronly woman in an apron stirred the vat. She moved her oar-like wooden stirrer in slow, even circles. The soapy water grew murkier with every stir as blood and dirt sloughed off the uniforms floating in it.

Nobody was bothered by the fact that the stains never quite went away, as long as the uniforms didnt reek. Eventually the stains would merge into an indistinguishable darkening of fabric, turning tunics that had once been white a gradually deepening brown. Most of the soldiers just pretended their uniforms had been brown to begin with. It was better than picturing all the other bodies that had marched and fought and bled in them, and it was easy to ignore the faint, ever-present whiff of sweat and gore if it was accompanied by the stronger, sharper scent of soap.

Soon the woman was conveniently occupied with lifting the dripping clothes out of the vat and placing them into buckets.

Tam sprang into action.

She inched past the nearest pyramid of clothing and began extracting a used uniform from the bottom of the largest pile. The uniform had sticky blotches on it, blotches whose sources Tam had no intention of guessing. Her nose wrinkled even further at the prospect of wearing that , but needs must.

This was the most progress shed ever made in her plan to sneak into the army. Her pulse raced as she donned the cloak of an infantry soldier atop the blotchy shirt. Tam was a tad smaller than the cloaks previous wearer, but she didnt have the luxury to linger and select a cloak that fit her perfectly. She had to leave before the noonday hour, when a slew of servants would enter the laundry room to take the washed clothing out to dry.

Tam was backing out of the laundry room, her heart in her throat, when

Halt, boomed a familiar voice behind her, and Tam winced. It was Borik. Why was it always Borik? He was the commander of the spear-wielders and had an uncanny knack for locating Tam. Are you Tamsin?

I have no idea who or what that is, Tam said in an exaggerated, low-pitched alto, huddling into her oversized cloak and making as if to leave. But I have places to be. Things to do. Wars to win. Goodbye. Before she could escape, however, a hand landed on her shoulder, heavy as a boulder. Oh, bug

Borik flipped off her hood.

ger.

I knew it. Id recognize that tiny form anywhere.

Im not tiny just because Im short, Tam shot back, since there was no harm in being herself now that her cover had been blown.

Borik glared down at her from what felt like five thousand feet above her head. That is the very definition of tiny, you foolish brat.

Youre as huge as a mountain. Everyones tiny to you.

Youd be tiny to an ant.

Ha, ha. Very funny. When Borik lifted Tam by her cape and began carrying her out of the barracks, she squawked, I can walk!

Yes, but I dont trust you to walk out of here and back to your dormitory in the childrens quarters.

I dont belong there, Tam said indignantly. Im not a child.

Youre seventeen. In the eyes of the law, you are still a child.

The law is pointless.

As are your repeated attempts to break into the army. Is this the fifth attempt?

The sixth, Tam said sullenly. Maybe. Did hiding in the mound of chicken bones left over from the kitchens count?

Borik snorted. If the royal kennels dogs hadnt leapt upon it and exposed you, you wouldve been carted out of the fortress walls to be dumped outside with the rest of the citys garbage.

That was the plan.

To be thrown out with the garbage?

To get beyond the walls so I could tag along with the last platoon dispatched to scout the border.

And what a success that was, Borik said dryly. Clearly, you are gifted in the subtle arts of espionage. Forget the armed forces, you should be inducted into the queens spies.

Tam decided to go along with this fantasy. At least it was a fantasy in which she was useful. According to you, Im tiny, so Id be the perfect spy.

Except for how, despite being tiny, you cant snoop worth a penny.

You dont get paid worth a penny, Tam retaliated.

Im a soldier. I get paid in glory. Not that glory puts food on the table. Why do you want to be a soldier again?

Because my parents were soldiers. Because were at war. Because Im sick of staying in the childrens dorm and languishing like some noble damsel, when I could be out there, fighting with you. Fighting with the only family I have.

Borik paused, as if unsure how to respond to Tams passion. Wars, he said finally, exhaustedly. There are always wars. Our war, the Great War, began when you were a child and may still be raging when you have children. King Danis of Norvald is our enemy and will remain so until his deathbut it is rumored that he does not age as men do, and we have no means of discovering what dark magic he is using or how to defeat it.

That was true. Danis was unnaturally powerful and nobody knew why. If it wasnt for the alliance Astaris had with Axenborg, the land that lay between Norvald and theirs, Astaris wouldve been wiped out ages ago. I dont see how thats relevant to

What if we never vanquish Danis? What if this war never ends? What difference does it make, then, whether you join the fight today or tomorrow?

But thats why the army could use me, Tam said mulishly. Its because the war is never-ending that we could use every single combatant. Spare me your lectures on military history. They do the opposite of dissuading me.