edgeoftheknife | how far you are from home

The kingdom of Mirkwood had been a part of what was now the Killarney National Park in Ireland since long before Erskine was born. The elves maintained their kingdom in the deep forests, out of sight of the oblivious mortals who visited the park every year, trodding to Ross Castle and across the Old Weir Bridge without ever suspecting the ancient race that lived deeper amidst the trees. The elves were good at hiding--not unlike the sorcerers that lived among the mortals themselves, but the elves had never seemed interested in having much to do with the mages. Sorcerers made their wars and built their Sanctuaries and kept magic from mortals. The elves kept out of sight altogether, seen only briefly and very rarely outside of Killarney and Mirkwood. A young sorcerer was more likely to spot a Crenga or a vampire than an elf.

Which was why, when the Elders of the Irish Sanctuary asked Erskine to go to Killarney and meet with the elves, he stood before them with a profound look of disbelief for a few seconds before agreeing. It was his first official trip on Sanctuary business since Corrival, his mentor and the mage he'd been travelling with on business for most of a century, had retired.

Not that he couldn't do it alone. Erskine had picked up a lot from Corrival over the centuries and his natural charm went a long way, and he had a hundred years of experience dealing with sorcerers all over the world.

But the elves?

When he asked, the Elders would only say that the elves had agreed to meet with someone on a tentative basis before committing to any sort of larger council. If there was some sort of ulterior motive on either side, Erskine didn't know it. That would be something to ask the other Dead Men to look into while he was away. Skulduggery, maybe, if the skeleton detective wasn't already busy on another case. Meanwhile Erskine would have to keep his eyes and ears open while in Mirkwood to see if he could figure anything out on that end.

Because this promised to be a prolonged engagement, unless of course he managed to botch the whole thing in the first day, Erskine had a small bag with him in the back of the car as it cruised down the M7 from Dublin to Killarney. The driver and car were both supplied by the Sanctuary, so at least Erskine wasn't having to foot the bill for a four hour taxi ride. Not that he couldn't afford it.

His instructions were to wait at the circle of standing stones just to the east of the bulk of the forest. It was still mid-morning--the car had come to collect him at Hopeless's cottage outside of Dublin just before dawn. In his charcoal gray three-piece suit (Bespoke tailored, only the best) with a black overnight bag slung over one shoulder, he looked vastly out of place in the pristine beauty of the park.