God, I can’t wait for this heat to become more manageable. It’s downright enervating.
Elf-Lands
Kentuckians may not have a King, but they definitely know how to put an expedition together. By the time I arrived at Fort Savannah, Mary-Jo had already gotten our team assembled. There was me, her, Finglas and Nellas for the scouting, a dour-looking healer named Elanor Dawnflower, and an entire squad of grizzled, hard-eyed elven archers led by one ‘Bob Jones.’
Mary-Jo had warned me about that, ahead of time. “Some of the elven families still hold onto what human mages did to them, back before they got loose. Bob knows you’re not one of those, but he’s not going to give out his True Name to you anyway.” I had still spent half of the two week trip up to Lost Atlantia wondering if Bob really did know I wasn’t one of those Mage Alliance bastards, but he never said or did anything except keep one eye on me at all times. Eventually I decided it was his problem, not mine, and I needed to concentrate on actually getting to Lost Atlanta.
Damned if it wasn’t properly lost, either. It was so lost, the locals from Savannah said that even bandits couldn’t find it. The way they said that, I gathered that I was supposed to be impressed. I did my best, but we don’t have bandits in Virginia. I had to take on faith their supernatural ability to find lost places.