Jerik was an enigma to her. He was old, ancient even. He led the Guardians, an unknown band of people who worked unseen to keep the balance in the world. He had used his power to save her and brought her to this remote village where he lived among the elven tribes of the Deadlands.
Jovanna spotted Velent, the chieftain’s son, returning from a hunt. He didn’t look happy. He stepped wide of her as he passed by, an elven form of snubbing someone.
“Careful,” she said loudly. “You wouldn’t want to offend the wrong person.” He stopped mid-stride and puffed his chest out defiantly, glaring at her. She returned his gaze with equal ferocity. She rested her hand on the hilt of her sword, tapping her finger on the pommel.
He looked like the rest of the elves she had seen. Lithe and tall, with long
