In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

“Um,” Elliot added. “Don’t—don’t worry. The other people in our group are highly trained experts in tracking and using pointed objects, and they will find and protect us.” “Will the pretty one come?” asked the child. “Undoubtedly!” said Elliot. “I’m glad you noticed her. She’s called Serene, and she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld. She has ebony hair and porcelain skin, as I’m sure you observed. She is also an elf, and they have excellent eyesight and can track people by a single blade of crushed grass, and she is the best with a bow in the whole camp, including the teachers.” “The boy,” the child said after a pause. “Oh,” said Elliot. “Luke. Well, he’s okay too, I guess.” He didn’t want to crush a child’s dreams. “He looks like a prince,” she continued wistfully. “Well,” said Elliot. “The monarchy are historically inbred.” The child was silent again. Elliot was sure he was getting this very wrong.

Elliot knew they would catch up with him soon and did not know what to do. He forced the child, sobbing and stumbling, out in front of him so at least his body would be between her and them. He glanced over his shoulder to see if they were gaining, and saw the first one fall. He had an arrow in his throat. Elliot stared and saw, so far ahead on the curving path that it was on another mountain entirely, a black fleck that must be Serene. He saw it moving toward him, faster than humans could move, and saw another troll fall. He knew she was running and firing arrows and never missing, all at the same time, all from so far away.

the troll raised his club, big as a tree, and the next moment Luke jumped, made one of his impossible leaps from an impossible point high above them, and landed crouched before the troll with his sword already drawn. The blade blazed in the sunlight, and so did his hair, and the child behind Elliot gave a glad cry as if recognizing a prince come to save her. Luke caught the troll by surprise. He rushed at him, and ran him through. Through the belly, and when the troll fell to his knees Luke wrenched the blade out of his belly and drove the point home to his heart. The troll crumpled forward, a dead weight, and tumbled into the dust.

Luke pulled his sword free, leaned his face and his free arm against the rock, and was suddenly sick. Elliot realised, after a stunned instant, that though Luke was past master at any number of instruments of death . . . he didn’t think that Luke had ever actually killed anyone before.

“Luke’s outside,” Serene said in a low voice. “Might you want to go out and say something to him? He’s a bit torn up.” She looked off into the distance. “Your first one’s the worst. It gets easier after that.” Does it get easier? Elliot thought, looking at her still pale face. Or is it just that you shut doors in your own heart and never open them again for fear of what is behind them?

Serene had killed for him too. Serene was a child soldier, created in the same way Luke had been. The only difference was that Serene had killed before she ever met Elliot, had been damaged like that before he ever saw her. He remembered thinking that the grave, older air she had was beautiful, was something elvish and wonderful, and felt sick of himself. He wanted nothing more than to lift the sadness forever and see her smile, uncomplicated and happy, the child she should still be. “Was someone with you for your first?” he asked. Serene nodded. “My mother.

He stood up, and stood looking for a moment at her profile, like that of a marble bust, all set perfect lines, and her gray eyes fixed on a private vision. He swept her dark hair off her face with his good hand, kissed her brow, and walked away. It wasn’t how he’d wanted their first kiss to go, but it had weirdly seemed like the right thing to do.

ideally we would have been able to reason with the trolls, and there would have been no bloodshed,” said Elliot, sinkingly conscious that he was saying the exact wrong thing but not sure what else to say, now they were talking about this. “Oh yeah?” Luke demanded. “You think you’re so smart. Did it seem to you that those creatures were going to listen to reason?” “Well, I mean, maybe,” said Elliot. “We’re never going to know now, are we?” Luke was white under his tan. “Are you serious? I know what you think of me,” he said. “You’re always really clear on the subject. But is this the time to have a go at me?” “That came out wrong,” said Elliot. “Obviously, there were extenuating circumstances. There was the child—” “You know what, Elliot?” Luke demanded. “Could you shut up for once in your life and leave me alone?” He pushed himself off the wall and shoved past Elliot, fairly hard, on his injured side. Elliot went and leaned against the wall until the jolted pain in his arm subsided, and by then Luke was long gone. Elliot blamed himself for trying. He was not a comforting type of person: it was stupid, like a hedgehog trying to be a hot-water bottle. Of course he was only going to make Luke more upset.

Elliot supposed you could tell the difference between a skirmish and an encounter by counting the number of corpses. Apparently nobody but him thought it was at all suspicious that as soon as the humans had decided they wanted the land, this conflict between the elves and the dwarves had arisen. He bet some of the land would be granted to the Border humans by the elves as thanks for their aid in battle.

“This had better be important,” said Luke. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to let down the whole team, in front of everybody, because you whistled and beckoned? I’m not your dog.”

It was barely dark when they went, but Elliot hoped it was dark enough that they would not be missed until morning. They left pillows arranged in the shape of bodies under their sheets, which was fairly basic subterfuge, but the captains didn’t check the younger ones’ beds as carefully as they did the older ones’, on account of indecency and lewd behaviour.

“Is human biology so different to elvish, then?” Serene asked with interest. “Beg pardon?” said Luke. “Well, elvish women are driven by powerful lusts that men cannot understand,” Serene said in matter-of-fact tones. “Let’s just leave it at that, shall we!” Luke implored. “Please go on, Serene, don’t stop, this is very interesting,” said Elliot. “Once a woman’s passion is roused it can be very difficult for her to stop until the act of love is completed,” said Serene. “Preferably several times over. How can an innocent man understand such desires? As I understand it, men are completely exhausted when they complete the act of love once.” “Well, not completely!” said Elliot. “After the first flush of youth,” Serene said sadly, “men are only able to perform the act once a night.” “Please talk about something else or maybe kill me,” said Luke. “I don’t want to live in this world any more.”

“Forgive me for being so frank with you and putting you to the blush, Luke.” “I am not blushing!” Elliot peered in the gloom. “He’s definitely blushing,” he reported to the night air. “I’m just going to go wander into the undergrowth all alone,” Luke said in a flat voice. “If I’m lucky a warg might eat me. I hope so. Don’t come looking for me.” “Okay,” said Elliot. “Can I have your cloak before you go get eaten by a warg? I’m freezing.”

Serene rummaged in her bag and brought out a horn, made of bone and delicately carved. She blew on it gently, and the sound went rushing through the trees as if there were windchimes hanging from every bough. In a few moments, sooner than Elliot would have dreamed possible, came the response. Through the trees in a shining cavalcade and a patter of hooves lighter than falling leaves, wheeling and turning in a perfect circle like birds whose flight patterns were guided by sheer instinct into absolute smoothness, came the elves. In the lead was a woman beautiful as the dawn and calm as a lake nobody had ever even breathed on.

“Hail, kinswoman, Swift-Arrows-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle!” called Serene. “Hail, kinswoman, Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle,” Swift returned, and then a smile split her grave sweet face. “Out in the woods with a couple of boys?” she asked. “Why, you little rogue!” “Ma’am, it is not at all what you assume,” said Serene. “They’re decent gentlemen, I assure you. Human ways are different, and besides, this is an emergency.” “That’s what all the young girls say when it comes to dalliances in the woods with trollops,” said one of the other elves, and Elliot gave an indignant squawk. “Two of them, as well,” said Swift, who had Serene’s fine bones and translucently pale skin, though her braided hair was chestnut, much lighter than Serene’s, and her expression was mischievous. “Certainly your mother’s daughter. Chip off the old wood block.”

Amusing!

Serene was still apparently involved in a conversation about whether Elliot and Luke were her wanton floozies.

Elliot had the sudden crushing realization that the adults were not going to be adults about this. Human adults had already messed things up by being greedy liars, and now elvish adults were going to be stubborn,

Why do children always think they are always in the right and the adults are all morons and idiots

At one point Elliot forgot himself and told Swift that she was an idiot with no grasp of politics, but Swift rumpled his hair and told him he was a little spitfire. “I am a rough and simple soldier,” she said eventually. “I follow my clan leader and do not become involved in such intrigues. But I can see well enough that you three have done us a signal service. My thanks to you, Serene-Heart-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle.” “Oh wow, thanks,” Elliot muttered. Swift smiled at him. “And to your charming companions as well. Redheads,” she murmured. “I get it now, Serene. He’s a taking little thing, in an odd way. Grows on you.”

The most annoying thing, perhaps, was that the elven troop were obviously good people and were being kind to them, and yet Elliot felt subtly wrong-footed at every turn. He wondered if this was how Serene felt all the time, and he promised himself to bear it as well as she did.

“The pretty blond one may dress like a harlot, but I think he is truly a modest gentleman,” remarked Silent, whose name Elliot thought was ironic. “Look at his sweet blushes.”

“Oh, you come by it honestly,” said Swift. “Before he met your father, your mother—Sure-Aim-in-the-Chaos-of-Battle,” she added, nodding to Elliot. “She was a devil with the gentlemen. Ruined two gentlemen in the west woods. I heard one of them was married off to a goblin! Of course Sure is settled now. The love of a good man will steady you one day too, you firebrand. Running off and joining the Border camp, of all the mad things to do! Your mother was raving about it for days. But proud too, you could see it. Of course she’d have the wildest daughter in the woods. All the careful fathers had best seal their virtuous sons in the nearest tree!”

“I wish I could grow a moustache like that,” Elliot said wistfully. “Probably a bad idea,” said Luke. “You can’t control the hair you’ve got.” “Besides,” said Serene, joining them, “I know it’s natural and everything, but don’t you think it looks weird if a man has hair anywhere but on his head? I mean, can they not be bothered to put in the time and effort to look good?”

“The Sunborns do have a big library,” the general rumbled out at last, as if weighing the words for believability. “But . . . why on earth would you be in there reading, lad?” “Improve my vocabulary, sir,” said Luke. From the corner of the room where Captain Woodsinger had placed herself, she coughed. “He does read a lot,” she contributed. “In the space allowed him around performing his duties. I have often seen him with his head in a book.” Elliot stared at Captain Woodsinger. She gazed back, her face impassive. “Oh, oh, very good,” responded General Lakelost. “Er . . . commendable.” He lowered his voice to what was essentially still a dull roar and said: “Is the boy not any good at fighting?” “He’s excellent, sir,” put in Captain Woodsinger in her quiet voice. “One of our finest.” “I don’t understand it,” the general announced. He squinted at Elliot. “That child can’t be old enough to be in the camp. He looks about ten.” “Fourteen, sir,” said Captain Woodsinger. “Undersized, sir.” Elliot scowled but refrained from comment,

Elliot thought it was settled, that they’d done the thing, and there would be no more talk of skirmishes and battles. Until the trolls and the harpies, alarmed by all these alliances, made an alliance of their own. The harpies encroached on dwarf territory, and the dwarves called on their new allies. And it was happening again, as if everything they had struggled to accomplish had just been to give themselves an escape route that led around in a circle, right back to where they had been before. Right back to the looming nightmare of war.

In what delusional world does everyone get along and avoid conflict? Wake up and stop living in your dreams

Elliot meant to sit and sulk over the pointless waste of it all in his cabin until the very last moment. There was a knock on the door at one point, but he wasn’t done sulking and he ignored it. He did not make it to the very last moment. When he emerged from the cabin, it was to see the dust of the troops leaving: it was to find Serene and Luke already gone. Then the news arrived that the trolls had come in far greater force than anyone expected. That the Border guards were hopelessly outnumbered, and the tide of war was turning against them.

This magic land was all wrong. In the books, you had to destroy an evil piece of jewelry or defeat an evil-though-sexy witch or wizard. In the books, people did not hide documents and steal land and try to cheat dwarves and dryads. The whole world was stupid, and now he was stupid too. He didn’t understand how this could be happening, how they might be dying. He’d fixed everything. He’d done everything right.

The foolishness and naivete of children. At least he's starting to wake up to the real world.

Louise stared up at him from her cot, her blond hair tangled and filthy. There was a bandage covering half her face: under the white stretch of cotton Elliot could see an open and darkly gleaming wound. Louise saw him looking. “Yeah, kid, I’m going to have a big scar. You think nobody’ll marry me now?” “I don’t think any of them are going to mind,” said Elliot matter-of-factly. “Mal Wavechaser says that you have the most rocking bod in the otherlands.” Louise let out a peal of laughter, then put her fingers to her jaw and winced. “Sorry, sorry!” Elliot said. “I don’t know the force of my own wit.”

Elliot hesitated. “Are . . .” “They’re both okay,” said Louise. She must have seen the mute appeal on his face, because she continued: “The first battle’s never easy, and this is the first battle and the first campaign all rolled into one. But they’re tough kids, and they’ve got each other.” She smiled a tiny bit. “They like your letters. You should write them more.” “Luke’s been reading my letters?!” Elliot exclaimed. “Well, we all do,” Louise said. “I mean, they read them out at the campfire.” “What,” said Elliot. “No, they’re great,” said Louise. “They really give everyone a boost. They’re hilarious.” “They are not hilarious. They are touching and private love letters for the eyes of my lady alone,” Elliot told her severely. “They are addressed to Serene! They begin with a greeting to Serene! They are extremely personal!” “Ah, you’re so much fun,” said Louise. “Write Luke a letter tonight, okay? He’s nervous about taking over command.”

Surely there had been other soldiers, not as good as Luke but grown, with strength a kid could not have and experience a kid could not have. For a fourteen-year-old to come to the fore as the obvious leader, others must have made the choice, conscious or not, to step back. Elliot did not know how they could live with letting this happen, letting someone this young be the leader and the sacrifice. But this was Luke’s sister, Rachel’s daughter. She had led while she could stand. She was a grown-up, but lying there with her face bandaged, she did not look so very old. She looked tired and hurt.

“This Mal Wavechaser you mentioned.” “Uh . . . what about him?” “How old is he? And, don’t lie to me Little Red, is he good-looking?” “Well—yes, one of the best-looking guys at school. And he’s a fifth year. He only stayed behind to be Captain Whiteleaf’s aide-de-camp,” said Elliot. “So seventeen, I guess?” “Close enough,” said Louise. “Send him to me. Tell him that a lieutenant with a rocking bod needs her . . . pillow smoothed.” Elliot’s mouth fell open. “Go on!” said Louise. She leaned over to the next cot and stole one of the pillows, ignoring the patient in that cot’s feeble protest, and fired it at Elliot’s head. “I’m an invalid and I need to be cosseted. Besides, Sunborns, we’re a family with great enthusiasm for living, if you know what I’m saying.” “I don’t,” Elliot lied firmly, and backed away. “We’re like lions on the prowl,” Louise shouted after him. “Don’t speak to me like that, I’m an impressionable child!” yelled Elliot.

I like how these characters feel real. They're still children and act like children.

In the morning, the dispatches said that Commander Rayburn was dead. Word after that trickled in agonisingly slowly: word of what had happened, and who had died. Word of Captain Woodsinger seizing the flag before it fell and leading the army: “A woman!” said General Lakelost, and yet did not dare send orders that she be removed from command in case those orders were not obeyed. Louise Sunborn’s troop, now Luke’s, had been in the thick of the battle. Elliot did not sleep for two nights, not until the list of survivors arrived.

Elliot was scared sick for Serene, but lonely in the night, at the coldest quietest hour, he had to make certain admissions. He had to admit that he was desperately worried about both of them: he had to admit that Luke was Elliot’s friend. It was so embarrassing. Luke could never know. Elliot decided that he was just going to be Luke’s friend very sneakily.

He tried to touch the bottles in the grouchy medic’s box and read the labels. “What does that do?” “Kills you,” she said. “And that one makes you vomit for twelve hours straight.” “Cool,” said Elliot. “Not cool, young man,” she said. “No touching.” “You’re a healer. You should be filled with ineffable goodwill and radiate an aura of peace.” “Get out of my infirmary,” she said. Elliot decided he liked her, and bestowed a smile on her as he ambled over to Louise.

there came word of another big battle: at the pass in Tharnapyr, trapped between the harpies’ Forest of the Suicides and the trolls’ Roaring Cliffs. Where the 15th were stationed, and no other troop close enough to reach them. When Elliot heard about it, he was sitting with Louise. She had to be strapped down to her bed to stop her from rising, commandeering a horse, and riding off to a fight that was already over. Elliot sat with her all that long, cold night. Word came in the morning, not slowly as before, but in shouts piling on shouts from every messenger and passerby, like the sound of victory bells. They heard of how the 15th had held the pass, their young leaders never faltering, and how Michael and Rachel Sunborn had led an army of their own people from across country and crushed the trolls’ force from behind.

In another moment he was sure of it, and sure she had seen him. She began to run, faster than any human could, racing elven-fleet across the grass. Elliot ran down the hill toward her, stumbling as he went, lent speed by the slope and not caring if he fell. He fell into Serene’s arms. She flew at him and he stumbled into her, and her hands held on to the back of his shirt, clutched handfuls of it as if he were trying to get away. He wasn’t. He clung to her, felt her slim and strong and safe against him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and the sheltering dark veil of her hair. And he heard the sound of Luke’s panting and running footfalls, indrawn hesitant breath and hovering warmth. He grabbed hold of his jerkin and drew him in. Luke’s hand caught Elliot’s arm, and his free arm went around Serene’s waist, and Elliot could hear them all breathing, could almost hear their heartbeats, had proof they were both alive and returned and whole.

They formed a nice friendship

Elliot was left to trail behind. As he did, he thought about Luke talking about literary tropes—the fearless hero, the valiant heroine, and where did it all leave him? Sidekick: a horrible indignity, Elliot refused to accept it. And the other idea was some sort of lurking, jealous figure: an Iago, a pathetic pseudo-villain waiting in the wings to plot and bring the hero down. He wasn’t going to plot against Luke, who had dumb daffodil hair and said “tropez,” for God’s sake.

There were songs and toasts, but worst of all were the stories. The one where Serene stood at the top of a cliff and Luke at the bottom, bow and sword at the ready, until their troop stopped their retreat, was the worst. Serene proudly showed a notch in one of her beautiful ears, and someone had one of Luke’s old shirts, with a tear and blood on it, which they waved like a flag.

Elliot didn’t even know why he was surprised. Serene had always been a little more inclined to war than council, though brilliant at both: he just hadn’t wanted to see it. Now she had been away at the wars and knew viscerally that war was a matter of life or death. Now she was closer to Luke than she had ever been before; it was easy to see, even in the way they both reached for their cups in tandem. He didn’t know why he had expected Serene to be on his side.

“What are you doing, then? Who’s the letter from?” “Serene’s cousin Swift,” said Elliot. “She’s teaching me troll.” “You’re penpals with Serene’s cousin?” “She’s a very nice lady, and she says she gets lonely out on patrol, on the long, cold nights.” Elliot stopped and frowned. “Actually, now I say that out loud it sounds like something I should report to my chaperone. But I don’t have a chaperone,

“Who is that rapping on my chamber door,” Elliot murmured to himself. “What elf could it be? And when shall I read my letter? Nevermore. Come in, Serene!”

he looked back at them, legs tangled, their slow breathing in sync. Luke was filthy, Elliot noted disapprovingly, and even Serene looked slightly disarranged. Elves did not seem to get as smudgy as humans. They did not look like heroes but like sleepy, dirty children. Elliot felt like a little kid himself, confused and helpless, not able to deal with the world at all. Their heads were leaning together on his pillow, the gold and the dark, ruffled and mingling.

He came home late from the record shop one day and almost collided with his father going to bed. His father looked at him. He seemed very mildly startled, as if at a near-stranger whose existence he had forgotten, encountered unexpectedly in the street. “Getting quite tall, aren’t you,” he said, with a faint note of accusation. Elliot held on to his tape deck and tried to smile. “I suppose,” he said. His father slipped softly and silently by him, like a ghost whose haunting of this house had been only briefly disturbed. He was glad when the time came to go. He left a note on the table for his father rather than say good-bye to him, and he climbed the steps to the wall lightly,

I just have to set up some obstacle courses and hang some bunting and so on.” “Have you been doing it all morning?” Elliot asked, appalled. “Well, no, to tell you the truth I had breakfast and then got a bit overcome by the thought of all the work to be done and had a kip in the sun instead,” Rachel said. “If I went outside Michael might find me and make me do something.

I adore Luke's mother. Such a cheerful and happy person whole also being a badass warrior

Tinny and small, the music began to play, singing an urge to dance. Rachel sat up on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. “Oh, look at that, it’s a minstrel in a box.” “Yes, exactly!” Elliot said enthusiastically,

“Why is the box telling us to dance?” she asked, and came over to give him a hug. Elliot was stunned to find he was actually slightly taller than she was. “Is it a command we must obey, or a geas?”

Borderlands reactions to technology is wonderfully charming

“Do you hear it,” said Elliot. “Isn’t it great? I am bringing technology to the Border. Next step, the Industrial Revolution.” “I wish you would not start a revolution,” Luke contributed. “Don’t tell me what to do, loser, I’m going to and it’s going to be awesome,” said Elliot firmly. “When the revolution comes,” Luke said, “I am still not going to wear the funny clothes from the weird world.”

it is a little provocative,” said Serene. “Not that I wish to question or shame you. You should wear whatever clothing you feel most comfortable in. Being comfortable in yourself is the best way to be attractive to others.”

He had tried to share his awesome stash of office supplies from the other world, but Serene claimed she had an allergy to plastic, Myra had poked herself in the eye with a Sharpie, and the one time Elliot had felt pleased enough with Luke to award him a pen, Luke kept it like a souvenir rather than ever actually trying to use it.

“I agree the contest is terrible,” said Serene, and Elliot brightened until Serene continued: “I can’t believe only Sunborns can participate.”

The day of the trials was, despite all Elliot’s hopes, sunny and dry, as if the sky wanted to wave one of the Sunborn flags of gold and blue.