《Fennorin's Few: Art of Recollection》


 Prologue: The Truth

    Fennorin. UE 2256. 124 Years Pre-Recollection.


    ¡°In a time before light, when the heavens had yet to be hung, there was Luth. It crackled in the nothingness, a void of potential. It was not darkness, nor light, but pregnant with both. At the birth, Order and Chaos were washed from the womb. They were followed by their celestial sisters: Good, Evil, and Truth.¡±


    Footsteps sounded outside the stone door, and Fenn held his breath, leaning protectively over the book. They retreated as they had come: ignorant of his reading. He returned to it, squinting in the dark.


    ¡°Order, Chaos, Good, Evil, and Truth. ¡®These were not gods, nor creators, but energies. Each burst forth in explosive zeal, and in the wake formed a realm. The Ordinal was magicless, ruled by natural law¨C¡±


    ¡°Fennie, when will we get to the elves?¡± The little she-elf¡¯s voice whistled through her eight adult teeth.


    The older brother looked up from his page. The sight of her on the bare stone, leaned forward on her criss-crossed legs, tugged a smile from him.  ¡°In just a moment, Kit. We have to read about our makers first.¡± He pushed a loose strand of obnoxiously yellow hair behind the point of his ear.


    ¡°Where was I?  We read the Ordinal¡­ ¡®The Good was called many things: Heaven, Celestia, and it was a Land of Power. Its attributes were Faith, Hope, and Love. The Evil was like it, of Power, known as Hell, the Arsdark, and its attributes were Fear, Loathing, and Pain.


    ¡°¡®The Truth birthed a land of compromise: magic and strength, weakness and power, laws and exception. Its attributes were Trust, Zeal, and Knowledge--¡¯ that¡¯s the realm we live in now.¡± Fenn glanced over the edge of his book at the two little hands pressed together in front of Kitaryn¡¯s mouth in focused thought, her pointed chin on her thumbs. ¡°¡®Finally, Chaos birthed the Wildlands, what we¡¯¨Cthat¡¯s mankind, not us¨C¡¯call the Fae. It was anarchy, and its attributes were Beauty, Passion, and Grace.


    ¡°¡®In the Chaos, Beauty reigned supreme. It surged and staggered and grew until it became the form of an elf, the first god. Now Boidhan was of more handsome appearance than any creature in all the realms, and he walked in all the grace of the universe. He sang the songs of the stars, and relished in the tails of comets, painting them across the skies. But there was none to share in this Beauty or challenge his growth. And so he learned to sculpt. First among his creations, he formed for himself a wife.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯ll be a wife someday?¡± Kitaryn¡¯s finger traced the dust on the well-ordered shelf behind her. ¡°I think I¡¯d like to be married.¡±


    ¡°Well I imagine so, you being pretty and a Fyr-Ceann and all, but you won¡¯t be of age for another eight decades, much less the age for partnering. Now did you want me to read this to you or not?¡±


    ¡°When you turn a hundred-fifty, will you get married?¡±


    Fenn sighed, burdened by the weight of expectations. ¡°No, Kit, I have no talent.¡±


    ¡°You are pretty and good at books.¡±


    The brother squirmed under the light of her admiring gaze like a worm would squirm in the sun. ¡°Then can I go back to booking? We were about to hear about the wife.¡±


    The elfling wiped a thick sludge of dust from her finger. ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°¡®Her name was Sabaed, and she had the power of Disruption. For ages unknown, it was the two of them on a world of their own, Boidhan creating Beauty, and Sabaed bringing to it a Wildness.


    ¡°But as times passed and the world aged, they longed for more. Boidhan took to the clay once again. Just as he prepared to pour his Grace into the creature, Sabaed stopped him. She reached up and pulled from the sun a single drop of light. She pressed this into the clay, and Boidhan poured out his Grace, and it became Anruwan. And he walked in all the Beauty of the Father, as brilliant as the S¨C¡±


    The door ground open, the orange light of his father¡¯s candle reaching for Fenn¡¯s bare toes. He slammed the book shut and jumped up, knocking his elbow on the bookshelf that had been his backrest. ¡°Athyr!¡±


    The elflord¡¯s height filled the doorway. He glared down his straight, perfect nose at his son, imperfect. ¡°Skulking around in the private libraries again?¡±


    ¡°N-n-no, sir, I was only¨C¡± Fenn¡¯s arm shook with the severity of a tempest as he tried to shove the book into a shelf.


    His father closed the gap between them in a single stride and snatched the book. He spared one glance for the title, The Faerie Beginning. He leaned over his son, and as he did the flickering candle cast a light that glittered off his teeth and eyes. ¡°Only? You were only reading forbidden literature. Only filling an impressionable child¡¯s head with fantasies that are no good to her. Only setting her on a path to become like you.¡±  He hissed his words with the cold poison of a snake.


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    ¡°I¡¯m s-sorry, I j-j-just¡±


    ¡°Atti, I asked him to read to me!¡± The small girl tugged the drapes of her father¡¯s robes. ¡°Please don¡¯t be mad.¡±


    ¡°Do not lie for him!¡± He whipped his head around. ¡°I will not have you become a cloud-headed, talentless fool like him. You have promise. Don¡¯t waste it on that boy. Now out.¡±


    The girl¡¯s already pale color turned ashen, singed by the heat of his words. ¡°Yes, Athyr.¡± She fled from the room, disappearing into the light beyond the doorway.


    With the witness gone, all of his father¡¯s attention was laid again into Fenn. ¡°I know you¡¯ve read the laws, Fennorin. And yet I find you in the Library of the Admonished. Reading Faerie tales. You are nearly an adult! Has nothing I taught you ever remained in your head? Or is there only room for nonsense?¡±


    Fenn shrank into the shelf behind him, wishing its deep shadows could swallow him whole. But his refuge had become his trap, digging into his ribs and back. He stared at the cold stone floor. ¡°Yes, I remember. Dissemination of Forbidden Culture can lead to imprisonment or banishment.¡±


    ¡°As codified into law by my great-grandmother, and enforced by me, as my father before me. But you,¡± his palm slammed into the shelf beside Fenn¡¯s head, rocking it back, ¡°can¡¯t even follow the rules I¡¯ve raised you to enforce.¡±


    Fenn could feel his father¡¯s breath on his cheek, cold and even. Something stirred inside him. It wasn¡¯t rage, or hate, or defeat. No, he boiled with conviction. It swirled within. But all that came out from him was a small whimper, ¡°but Athyr, what if it¡¯s true?¡±


    ¡°True?¡± His father¡¯s tone was even and thin, like ice on the lake after a first freeze. ¡°True? What is truth, when we are trying to create Culture?¡± He shoved with his hand, and the shelf teetered over. ¡°Tradition.¡± It plowed into another shelf behind it. ¡°And Unity.¡± The second shelf crashed against the built-ins on the wall, sending a cascade of books and scrolls to the floor with a great tumult. ¡°Whether or not it is true, it will not instill order.¡±


    ¡°But we are creatures of Chaos, not Order,¡± Fenn pleaded. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. He wished he could suck the words back into his mouth, unspoken.


    ¡°Chaos? Is that what this book taught you?¡± His father¡¯s eyes gleamed with a fire no candle could hope to produce. He held up the book. ¡°You want chaos?¡± For what seemed like the first time, Fenn saw his father smile. It was an evil expression underlit with fury. ¡°Here is chaos.¡± He moved the book over his candle. It caught like kindling, puffing with smoke and bright yellow light.


    No! The word stayed in the young man¡¯s head, his jaw hung slack with shock. He felt the sting of loss in his eyes.


    The flame shifted, turning from expected yellow, to fearsome blue, to voracious green. His father¡¯s brow shifted in mild surprise. Then he sneered and tossed it on the pile of broken shelves and toppled books.


    ¡°No!¡± Fenn reached out as if to catch it. It flew past his hands, spreading its fiery judgment like an ash-forming disease. The loss turned to mournful tears as Fenn watched the massacre of knowledge play out. He could almost hear the dying screams of the wisdoms he would never possess.


    Beside him, his father dusted off his hand as one might at the end of a routine trash-dumping. ¡°I have tried to be patient with your¡­ oddities, Fennorin. Coddled your boyhood with notebooks and sketchbooks, gave you free roam of the forests. Trained you to study and learn. But Frosts, not the Everguard, not art school, nor even my own careful instruction could help you. You are useless! Good for nothing but imitation and rote memorization.


    ¡°So that is what you will do. You will go back to the one thing you are good for, you will go immediately, and without complaint. I want a scribed copy of all ten volumes of The Books of Law and Tradition from you by the end of the week. And this time, you had better heed what you are writing. Understood?¡±


    His father didn¡¯t need another copy of the tomes. It was a punishment. To finish within a week, he would scarcely be able to sleep. Yet he was right. Fenn was useless. Even he knew that. Useless at art. Useless to save the knowledge of their forefathers. Useless to his people.


    He squinted through the smoke beginning to fill the room. The blaze flickered lower, choking on its own whisps. This room was a secret kept in stone walls. Once the door was closed, the fire would fade out on its own.


    He clenched his fists and nodded his head. ¡°Yes, Athyr.¡± After that week of copying, after the embers had sputtered their last coughs, he would come back here. It may be futile, but he would try. One by one, if he had to, he would smuggle what remained of those books out.


    He understood now that his family had never been preserving knowledge, but preventing it from reaching the people.


    He would write that copy. But then, he would take those books and find a place where they could be appreciated. Protected. Studied. And maybe, just maybe, he might be allowed to study them, and someone might appreciate him, too.

 Chapter 1: Unwelcome Party

    Then history arrives at the Battle of Etnfrandia. The annals of men speak of a dark day when they were routed before the enemy and fled toward the fortress of the elves, the Everland. Their accounts describe an outpouring of elves coming from the fortress, more than the grounds could hold. But the machinations of the Night Elves were great, and the might of the Hehinians greater. We held the line for most of a day before defenses began to collapse.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    <h3 style="text-align: left">UE 2373. Recollection Year.


    <h3 style="text-align: left">Fennorin.


    Fenn could see his breath puffing in front of him in the early-spring night; could hear the footfalls of his four companions, the whipping of branches as they ran. Not fast enough. The Everguard¡¯s torches dotted the forest behind them. With every breath, his mind tortured him with the images of his fears: his companions locked in cold, stone cells deep in the mountain. Alone. Separated from family and friends, dreams and aspirations. And it would be his fault.


    If they could only reach the Door between Realms, they would be safe. Relatively.


    He plunged deeper into his desperate scramble, diving between the clawed branches that reached for him out of the dark. Nightfall was little hindrance to him, but the same could not be said for them all.


    Fenn heard a sharp crack. He glanced behind him. At the rear, the hefty drakeman stumbled over a freshly splintered log. In his claws, he propelled a dark-blind Mell as she choked on her exhaustion. At the noise, the lights of the torches closed in, casting a maze of long shadows around them. They illuminated the terror that plastered Galendria¡¯s face. Syrdin, all but a shadow in the dark, chased beside her.


    Fenn ducked forward. Almost there. Just a couple hundred strides more and he could open the Door so they could escape. Anruwan help us! Give us strength! He didn¡¯t know if the gods paid attention to the elves anymore, or if they could even hear him from this plane, but he¡¯d try anything.


    A guard shouted for their lights to go out. In the darkness, someone¡¯s footfalls were right behind them, another to the side.


    ¡°Syrdin!¡± That was Mell¡¯s gasping voice.


    A crash in the underbrush told him that Syrdin knocked over one of the Everguard.


    Another guard came careening out of the trees toward¡ª


    ¡°Gale!¡± Fenn felt his panic rise. He began to turn. She wasn¡¯t even supposed to be part of this, and now she was in trouble. My fault. I shouldn¡¯t have allowed¡ª


    ¡°Got it!¡± Syrdin hissed in answer.


    ¡°Grubby hands off, you raggabrash!¡± Just as the guard reached Gale, her shrieked words released an instant pulse of¡­ magic? Silver lights flashed from her mouth like small spears reaching toward the guard. The guard faltered in his steps, but too late. He ran through the misty spears unharmed and crashed into her, the two elves tumbling to the ground.


    As the guard reached for his blade, Fenn skidded to a halt, dumbstruck as much by the revelation that Gale had yet another spell as by the idea of engaging in violence.


    Syrdin didn¡¯t hesitate. The guard was disarmed before he had a chance to rise, Syrdin perched on his chestplate.


    ¡°Go!¡± The little hooded elf called. Fenn obeyed, Galendria scrambling up just a few steps behind him.


    He heard the clang of metal on metal. He pressed away pictures of lean, gray-skinned traitors standing over the bloodied bodies of men and elves, grotesque paintings of the historical Battle between Night Elves and his nation. Please don¡¯t kill them, Syrdin. Those could be his cousins, his brothers even.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Gale screeched at him.


    Whipping his head forward, Fenn found himself face-to-face with Captain Gesria flanked by two of her troops. He nearly toppled into a collision with her, his former platoon-mate from his conscription period.


    He forced a gasping breath to slow in his lungs, then stood upright. I must save us. This she-elf, someone he once had called friend, now stood between his companions and their escape, and between himself and the path to the truth. But I don¡¯t want to fight.


    ¡°Move aside,¡± he commanded. That felt wrong. ¡°Please. We must pass.¡±


    Gesria raised an eyebrow in amusement, sword pointed toward him. ¡°We are under orders to arrest you. Surrender yourselves now.¡± She spoke with a hard edge, despite her expression.


    Fenn raised his hands and took another step forward so the sword¡¯s tip nearly touched his chest. He opened his mouth as if to speak.


    ¡°Fenn, don¡¯t¡ª¡± that was Mell. She knew his tricks.


    Too late. Fenn grabbed the sword. ¡°Clysnath¡± Sparks like lightning threaded up the metal into the Captain. She jolted for a moment and stepped back, smelling of cinders. He had no time to feel guilty. The guard on the left charged at him, sword upraised. Fenn lifted his left arm protectively by instinct.


    The blade met flesh. It stung, burned, ached. He wanted to scream. Or perhaps he did. He couldn¡¯t tell in the moment. He stumbled back, gripping his arm. Then everything was black.


    How had it come to this? Him, a traitor to his people? Fighting to get to the Wildlands. There was a vague sense of movement around him. He could still feel the pain searing through his arm. Gods, he prayed again, help me get them there safely. I need to wake up.


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    ¡°Fenn?¡± that was Galendria¡¯s voice.


    He felt her hand on his shoulder. He shuddered. He wasn¡¯t unconscious. He was merely standing, cradling his wounded arm, surrounded by blackness.


    <hr>


    Earlier that day.


    Belaer.


    Belaer Silverstem had seen his share of scholars and miscreants attempt to swindle their way in before, but never in possession of a House Sigil. He inspected what his Everguard had handed him. The crystalline charm, dangling in its setting from a silver chain, contained a great, white willow in the center of the round gem. Willowbirth. The sigil of the most closed-minded individual in the nation, the Master of Tradition. Belaer could not imagine how this human had come by that alliance.


    He gestured for her to enter the Meetinghouse. As Master of Trade, he had commissioned this building some centuries ago for entertaining trade partners and diplomats just outside of the border. This woman was neither of those. A guard dropped her trunk by a wall and saw himself out.


    ¡°Welcome honored guest,¡± he said as he walked her to cushioned seats placed strategically around a low table, ¡°I hope the seasons blessed your travels.¡±


    ¡°Like a spring breeze.¡± The woman¡¯s voice was thick and rich, and she answered without hesitation. She knows the elven greeting, then. As she followed him to the seats, a cloaked figure stepped out from behind her, every inch of it wrapped in linens, leather, or cowl. Belaer glanced at the guards, but they showed no sign of alarm at the second person. Most likely some kind of hired guide, then. No one of consequence.


    Belaer sat at the head of the table and gestured to the couch. For an undistinguished guest, this was the right arrangement. He crossed one long leg over the other then leaned forward, his fingers pressed together pensively. She was of dark skin and raven hair, as only the humans ever were, with full, low cheeks. Her simple gray robes indicated that she was a cleric. An archaic profession, to be sure, but humans were very religious creatures. For her service, she wore a golden circlet, its emblem resting in the center of her forehead. This particular emblem seemed familiar: a swirl formed an eye amidst a triangle, the point facing down.


    Was it the crest of a Faerie god? Belaer¡¯s people gave little heed to the old gods. It seemed unlikely Olfeiros Willowbirth had sent for her. Yet, he was the Master of Tradition. As such, his house held many secrets. Some may concern the gods of old.


    Belaer smoothed his glossy, brown hair behind his ears. ¡°You¡¯ve come a long way, so make yourself comfortable. I¡¯ve sent word to the Willowbirth household, and we will await his arrival.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She met his gaze as she spoke, then glanced at her companion. An odd companion indeed. While the woman looked tense, her guide looked relaxed, almost as if this were her¡ªor his¡ªown home. Though, the twitch of a booted toe betrayed a hint of impatience. Perhaps he¨Cor she¨C awaits payment.


    Belaer watched as the cleric¡¯s eyes meandered about the room. Someone like her, learned of elven ways, would recognize that this cabin was styled after human homesteads. Her eyes flitted between the two oaken doors, rode the pine rafters across the ceiling, traced the granite tiled floor, then landed on the table. It was a showpiece carved from a single Greatpine. Its legs were each unique; former branches preserved and shaped masterfully to serve their current purpose. Watching her admire it, he couldn¡¯t help but feel pleased.


    ¡°I also have a letter,¡± Mellark said, her attention lifting from the delicately woven table-runner, ¡°in my trunk. It explains everything. If I¡¯d had half a mind this morning, I should¡¯ve put it in my pack. I just,¡± she swept one of her multitude of tight braids out of her face, ¡°I had forgotten that I¡¯d used it as a temporary bookmark.¡±


    Belaer thought he detected a blush across those dark cheeks. ¡°No, there is no better explanation than the words of the one who issued the letter himself.¡± This was a very singular instance. He had never received a guest that he himself had not invited¨Che was the only Etnfrandian with contacts outside, or so he¡¯d believed.


    Then there was the matter of fraud. Last he¡¯d checked, the four members of the Willowbrith House were still securely in possession of their family charms. The ladies wore them as necklaces. Often Olfeiros did as well. But then, young Fennorin had an odd habit of forgetting to wear his. That was not the same as losing it. Something clicked in Belaer¡¯s mind.


    ¡°So, for what purpose did you come, Scholar-Savant Mellark?¡± he asked. The mention of her name and title seemed to instill in her some confidence.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s all in the letter, but in a word? For scholarship. Regarding the Faerie gods, primarily, Lord Silverstem,¡± she answered. ¡°Or is there a better title I should call you by?¡±


    He felt his mouth crease upward. Her dedication to elven etiquette was admirable. ¡°The best Allspeach translation is ¡®Master¡¯ or perhaps ¡®Chairman,¡¯ but if Lord is easier to the tongue, I take no offense to it.¡±


    ¡°And what in Elvish?¡± Her eyes sparkled as she asked the question in his own tongue.


    He couldn¡¯t help but smile in full, breaking his act of polite stoicism. ¡°Ceann,¡± he answered. ¡°Ceann-Malairt to be specific.¡± He turned the conversation back to her. ¡°Assandial University¡­ that is in the region of the Black Lake, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the Southeast side near Sandersonville. The University there houses the region¡¯s largest library, so naturally my clergy to Lorthen would¡ª¡±


    He cut her off with a wave of his hand. This fit well with his working theory on her. ¡°And you come bearing the crest of the Ceann of Tradition, Willowbirth?¡±


    ¡°The Ceann?¡± she blinked at him in confusion.


    He kept his face placid, smooth as a windless sky, but he couldn¡¯t help but be amused. This polite scholar hadn¡¯t come to see the cold, austere Olfeiros, but his unconventional son. The lad had been lost for over a century to scholarship among men, and had only just returned this decade with a head full of knowledge deemed useless¨Cor worse¨Cby the House of Tradition. Histories and magics were by no means part of the aesthetic traditions. This mattered little to Belaer. That lad was intelligent and well-intentioned. Belaer had agreed to his daughter¡¯s request for their betrothal with only a small argument, and that about Olfeiros, not the boy.


    He prepared to clarify who she sought when a shuffling outside the Eastern, Etnfrandia-facing door caught his attention. He stood, his long robes falling to the floor. ¡°Excuse me a moment.¡± He swept across the room and swung open the door.


    What met him was quite a kerfuffle. The two Everguards outside were no longer at their posts beside the door. Instead, one seemed to be struggling to restrain someone. The other blocked the doorstep, and he turned with a ready solute.


    ¡°At ease, sirs. Who have you apprehended?¡±


    The nearer guard answered. ¡°The young Fennorin Willowbirth attempted to enter without the appropriate invitation. We await the arrival of the Ceann of Tradition to clarify the situation.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for the confusion, Ceann-Malairt,¡± the younger elfman wheezed from within the first guard¡¯s hold, ¡°but the guest in your Meetinghouse is mine, not my father¡¯s.¡±


    The guard shoved him back in an attempt to quiet him.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Belaer kept his voice firm and still, but his amusement only grew. He gestured for Fennorin to be released. ¡°I believe the Myc-Ceann speaks the truth. Sanctioned or not, I will allow this meeting to proceed with my attendance. Be sure to send word to his father¨Cimmediately.¡±


    The guard released him swiftly and both bowed. ¡°Yes, Ceann-Malairt.¡±


    Fenn bowed his respects as well and waited politely for Belaer to enter the building first. ¡°Thank you, Ceann.¡± The youth squeaked.


    He wasn¡¯t a youth really, but if Belaer saw his daughter as a mere girl, then surely her betrothed was a youth. ¡°Come, son, let¡¯s see what this business is about.¡±


    The scholar and her companion stood up as they entered. Belaer gestured behind him toward Fennorin. ¡°Is this whom you seek?¡±

 Chapter 2: The Battle for Entry

    Then, a great magic is said to have descended from the heavens and surrounded the land. Many human warriors were trapped outside as the dome formed, and they found that though the Faefolk could retreat inside, they were left stranded to be slaughtered and crushed. And crushed they were.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    Fenn stood in the doorway to the Meetinghouse wheezing. Sweat dripped from his temples. He removed his octagonal spectacles and swiped at the stray droplets that had splashed on them. He was grateful for the sturdiness of the bronze that held them together. He¡¯d run a marathon from the city¡¯s center to ensure he arrived before his father only to meet the Everguard in a bit of a scuffle at the door. A less hardy material might have broken. He felt he nearly had from the stress of it. If my father had arrived first¡­


    ¡°Fennie!¡± Mell charged him with enthusiastic arms outstretched and wrapped him in a hug. ¡°It¡¯s so good to see you again.¡±


    He laid his arms around her and relaxed. She made it. Over Mell¡¯s shoulder, Belaer raised an eyebrow at him. This kind of familiarity was unusual for Etnfrandians.


    Mell pushed him away. ¡°Let me look at you!¡± She eyed him up and down, as if taking in a lost memory found again. Under her scrutinous gaze, Fenn attempted to smooth his sun-bright hair, still cut short in the style of men. He felt suddenly aware of the fine, blue tunic flowing almost to his knees¨Ca touch short for his gangling form¨Ccomplete with matching pants that tucked into his boots. They were a stark contrast from the linen shirt, stiff vest, and white scarf of his Assandial professorship.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t aged a day in six years! Elvenwear suits you.¡± Mell winked and elbowed his ribs.


    He grinned in a sort-of grimace and hoped Ceann Willowbirth would not mind the very human banter. ¡°I should think so, Curator Mellark, as I am truly an elf.¡± He may not have aged, but the same could not be said for her. Gray strands now crept down the braids at her temples.


    ¡°An elf indeed,¡± Mell laughed then cleared her throat. ¡°Now, where are my manners? Pleased to introduce my traveling companion, Syrdin. Zheir wits and skills have proved providential during our journey here. Truly an elf of many talents and a good companion to this,¡± she paused to wink again, ¡°Scholar-Savant.¡±


    Fenn¡¯s face contorted with shock. Not at the increase of her rank to Scholar. No, it was that the diminutive companion was an elf. None of those born outside had the gall to visit even the Meetinghouse. Yet, zheir small form, secrecy, and most of all zheir degendered pronouns indicated the same: a Dark Elf escaped from dwarven slavery. Either this elf was a complete fool, or Fenn was wrong about zheir identity.


    If the Ceann understood what it meant, he showed no sign. Fenn shook off his worries. Questioning it right now would only raise suspicion. ¡°Congratulations, Madame Scholar. I should have known your rank would have increased by now.¡±


    Fenn turned to Ceann Silverstem. ¡°And Ceann-Malairt, I again apologize for the confusion. I seem to have missed the proper avenues for scheduling such a meeting, though I could hardly know when Scholar Mellark would arrive. Perhaps a greater number of letters between us would have alleviated the issue, but as you know, my father¡ª¡±


    Fenn cut off when Ceann Silverstem waved his hand. He felt ashamed speaking thus. Proper avenues, he¡¯d said. There was no such thing. Until now, the Ceann of Trade was the only Etnfrandian who ever had an occasion to meet with outsiders. His appeal relied on his ¡°future father-in-law¡± giving him the benefit of the doubt.


    ¡°Myc-Ceann, do not apologize where you need only to explain. Let us speak of the business that brought them here. Do not forget you have more than one Athyr Ceann, my son.¡±


    Guilt blew over him like a hot wind. Surely this kind elflord knew Fenn was speaking soft lies, and yet he was extending generous kindness in return. Perhaps he could have come to Belaer Silverstem sooner, but it was too late now. ¡°Certainly, Ceann.¡± Fenn bowed his head with respect.


    At Silverstem¡¯s gesture, they all sat around the low table. Mell¡¯s brows were creased with confusion, and she glanced between Fenn and Ceann Silverstem, no doubt attempting to understand their connection. Fenn focused on the matter at hand. Like the Five Tribes steeling themselves for battle before the Hehinnians, Fenn braced himself for the flurry of half-truths he would now unleash.


    ¡°You see, Scholar Mellark is a dear friend of mine from Assandial Universities¡¯ libraries. As you know, I have continued my studies of the Faerie lore here at home. I found my resources lacking, and I requested Mellark¡¯s help deciphering some of our old texts. As a cleric to the Faerish god of Knowledge, she is well learned about the ancient gods long¡­ forgotten by our people. While my expertise lies in Fae creatures and magic, I know less about the pantheon. That¡¯s why I requested for her to come and aid my studies.¡±


    He forced himself not to hold his breath after he finished. He had heard breathing was important in battle¨Cand in subterfuge. Yet the spacious room now felt suffocating and the dark rafters hung oppressively over his head. Technically, that was all true.


    Belair¡¯s face hardened. ¡°The people of Etnfrandia don¡¯t pursue knowledge of the gods.¡±


    Fear crept up Fenn¡¯s shoulders like an itch. His father had expressly forbidden further research into what he was now preparing to pursue in the Faeworld. But Ceann Willowbirth wouldn¡¯t know that. Like the Etnfrandian warriors before him, Fenn prepared his second line of defense, the main body of troops. He would argue the significance of the gods as symbols within their art. Unlike the armies, he had no Barrier to save him. If his defenses crumbled, it would be a slaughter of his mission for truth. There would be no expedition, no exploration, no reco¨Che was ripped out from his anxieties by the Ceann¡¯s voice.


    ¡°She has brought pitiful few books for aiding you in scholarship,¡± Ceann Silverstem noted, his eyes landing on her small trunk by the West door.


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    Fenn blinked behind his spectacles. Breathe. ¡°Yes, Athyr-Ceann. I¡¯m afraid Scholars are not granted generous penchants for traveling, so we usually travel light.¡± Fenn recalled taking many of his own long journeys with but a trunk and a pack of camping gear.


    The Ceann¡¯s brows rose in surprise. Fenn winced as he realized his tactical error. He¡¯d never spoken to any Etnfrandians about his own traveling scholarship, and now had implied it to the Ceann with the simple word, ¡°we.¡± At least my disappearance for a few months will be less surprising to him now.


    ¡°And what was the nature of your relationship to the Scholar while at Assandial?¡±


    A thrill of shock and embarrassment worked its way from Fenn¡¯s head to his fingers. He¡¯d never considered that that might concern the Ceann. It made sense considering his betrothal to the Ceann¡¯s daughter and how Fenn had at first resisted the arrangement. Besides, there was that show of playful comradery, a rare and intimate display to the Etnfrandians.


    His support artillery, Mell, wriggled in her seat, eyes bugged and nose crinkled in a silent snort. Yes, she would find that funny.


    ¡°A colleague in research and study, and good friends, of course. It is customary amongst the humans in that region to exchange banter and compliments the way spouses and children do in our culture. I apologize for the confusing conduct.¡±


    Something like amusement twitched at the edge of the Ceann¡¯s mouth. ¡°Excellent, I¡¯d hate to hear that your arrangement with my daughter was compromised by an outside commitment.¡± He paused and glanced out a window where the sun was setting. ¡°I¡¯ll allow her passage into Etnfrandia to your home in Greenvalley for the night. Two guards will ensure she does not enter the main city. Scholar, I trust you find lodging overnight in a tent outside his cabin acceptable? Only for tonight. Something more sturdy could be arranged if your stay is extended.¡±


    Fenn stared at the Ceann, hardly believing what he heard. The elflord¡¯s face betrayed no reason for his generous admittance. Though separate quarters could complicate their escape tonight, Fenn dared not protest. Not after this strange luck. To suggest that he stay in the same quarters as a woman would be highly inappropriate. Besides, the battle was won, and without the main army having ever left the fortress of his mind. The gods must be with me.


    ¡°Oh, yes!¡± Mell¡¯s mouth hung open and her eyes shone with pure joy. She¡¯d go down in history as the first human to cross the Etnfrandian border in a millennia. ¡°Thank you, Ceann!¡±


    Belaer turned back to Fenn. ¡°I will revisit this issue tomorrow morning with the Ceann Court. Should she be allowed to stay, how long might this research of yours last?¡±


    ¡°Months at least, sir.¡± Fenn breathed, dizzy with relief.


    Still, he couldn¡¯t quite share in Mell¡¯s excitement. Instead, his stomach felt heavy with the weight of his next steps. He¡¯d be the elf forever remembered as the first proper crook, the first traitor, in the history of Etnfrandia. Official history.


    Belair Silverstem sighed. ¡°And if the matroniage between my daughter and you is performed before the term of your research is complete?¡±


    Fenn felt the heaviness in his stomach twist and form a pit. Poor Galendria. He doubted anyone would want to go through with the arrangement by the end of all this. ¡°Surely a more suitable living space for Fyr-Ceann Gale than my cabin should be constructed first. It is far too humble for the Flower of Etnfrandia,¡± he deflected.


    Ceann Silverstem smiled with a warmth unfamiliar to Fenn. ¡°Very well. Though I do not doubt Galendria would very much romanticize the idea of a cabin in the valley, it shall be as you say.¡± He turned to Mell. ¡°Pay your travel companion for any expenses incurred and send the elf away. Such travelers have no place here. Then you may proceed with Myc-Ceann Fennorin with your guards. I will go now and dispense their orders.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Ceann.¡± Mell bowed with gusto.


    The Ceann reached the door with graceful strides, then paused. ¡°And Fenn,¡± his hand was on the knob, head turned back toward him, ¡°we¡¯re putting a lot of faith in you, Gale and I. Whatever you do, I trust you will protect her honor and position.¡± There was a sadness to his voice. A vulnerability.


    Fenn stared at the ground in a bow. ¡°Yes, Athyr. I do not pretend to understand what the two of you have seen in me, but I hope to live up to her expectations.¡± Highly unlikely. He¡¯d be a criminal for the sake of the truth he sought. He couldn¡¯t lift his head to face the Ceann before the door clicked shut.


    Mell would have gathered the situation by now, so Fenn turned to the matter at hand. He faced Syrdin. ¡°You are an elf?¡±


    The hooded figure nodded. ¡°Yes, Myc-Ceann.¡±


    Fenn¡¯s skin crawled hearing his title. ¡°Then you can get through the barrier?¡±


    ¡°The barrier, sir?¡±


    Anxiety gripped his chest. They needed their mercenary thief to be able to get into Etnfrandia. ¡°The magical barrier that blocks non-elven humanoids and the hell-touched creatures from entering Etnfrandia. From the Great Hethbarn Wars? I¡¯m surprised you haven¡¯t heard of the legend.¡±


    Syrdin acknowledged the information with a silent nod. ¡°My people did not call it a barrier, that is all. It won¡¯t be a problem.¡±


    Zheir people. Fenn wanted to ask, but fear bit back his tongue. Syrdin¡¯s skin was covered head to toe with garb, gloves, and hood. Only now, as zhe lifted zheir defiant chin, did a sharp corner of purple-gray skin appear from beneath zheir hood.


    It seemed zhe was a fool indeed. That coloration was historically associated with the Night Elves, known better now as the Hell-touched, or Dark Ones. To come here was suicide. Etnfrandians may have forgotten their gods, but they remembered the Great Wars. They had no love for killing but would not hesitate in the case of a Night Elf. Fenn wanted to believe it was an unfortunate mix of hues from the other races of elves. He himself sported blue and purple undertones in his pale skin.


    But, zhe used the pronouns of the Kravtic slaves. Those were invented by the Dwarves in the mountains in reference to their degendered slaves, captives from the Dark Caverns where the Night Elves dwelt. No one chose those pronouns. Fewer still kept them after escaping. Or, so the freed elves who lived amongst the dragonfolk had claimed. Mell would¡¯ve known this much, yet had chosen Syrdin for this job.


    Fenn eyed Mell in a silent question. She nodded her affirmation. She trusted the little elf. Fenn would by no means open the gate for this stranger. But if zhe could pass the barrier, then zhe was not hell-touched, and that would be enough proof for him.


    ¡°What now?¡± Mell shifted heavily on her feet.


    His nerves bubbled out into a timid smile. It was time to relay the plan, or what he had of one. Tonight, they would steal magical artifacts right from under his father¡¯s nose. By moonset, they¡¯d smuggle in a drakeman. And by dawn, they would be in the Faeworld.

 Chapter 3: Across the Warding Wall

    Scholar-Savant,


    Your dissertation topic, ¡°Lost Etnfrandian History,¡± has been approved. Your travel expenses to Etnfrandia will be reimbursed on news of successful entry. We acknowledge that your contract has promised you payment, but you must understand our position. No outsider has set foot inside that barrier in two thousand years.¡±


    -Erudite Dirgewood in Letter to Mellark Brandybeard No. I


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell followed Fenn out of the Meetinghouse. As she stepped into a cool evening breeze, her breath caught in her throat. No artist in all of Hethbarn had ever come close to capturing the majesty of the Everglow mountains at sunset. Soft hues of orange and pink painted the mountains before her in a glorious light. The colors danced on the peaks, glittering off early-spring snowcaps. The two guards tailed close behind as she followed Fenn up the path of packed earth.


    Some few miles away, the city, Ar-Etnfrandia, bustled in tiers like a Brikhvarnni castle. Three tiers: one for each level of society: cultivators, businessmen, and artists. Mell had spent most of her life dreaming of visiting this place to study its unique culture. No other society esteemed art above all other accomplishments. Her curiosity pulled at her like a riptide, carrying her away from the shores of Hethbarn toward the city¡¯s great unknowns.


    She, Fenn, and their guards proceeded in silence until they came to an archway made of two massive, twisting trees whose branches intertwined overhead. She could just see the shimmering magical barrier in the space between them. A Warding Wall, Syrdin had called it. Scholars long debated how high the barrier ran. She craned her neck, but could not discern whether, far above, the transparent barrier dissipated, or simply faded from view.


    She gazed back at the magnificent trees. This was the Etnfrandian Twin Gate: an outsider¡¯s single access point to the nation across which none had ventured since its founding. Well, no one that history verified. Folk legends claimed otherwise. They paused at the trees, and one of the guards passed through and stood at the side of a tree, operating the gate.


    According to legend, the Etnfrandians could pass through freely, while other peoples were repelled. The theory was that it had to do with one¡¯s magical alignment. Syrdin had been sent in secret along another path to attempt to enter as the Etnfrandians did. As a cleric of Lorthen, could I pass through? She reached out her hand. It tapped on an invisible surface, sending a quick zing up her arm. She pulled away, and stretched it out again, flat. Her hand rested as against a wall. Her fingers and palm tingled. She pushed. It pushed back. Pain bolted up her arm and she found herself forced back a step.


    Amazing.


    She looked to Fenn to share her wonder and noticed him squinting at the guard on the other side. Perhaps she also should have studied how he opened the gate, but she could determine that with a spell, if needed. A puff of luminous mist erupted from between the trees, falling gently to the ground. Mell let her hands trail through it as they stepped onward between the trees. It tickled her skin with energy. A giddy grin spilled across her face.


    Beautiful.


    Fenn spoke to her silent amazement, his voice a whisper. ¡°This lost art, elven magic¨Cit¡¯s incredible, isn¡¯t it? This gate, things like this are what inspire me to rediscover it. Understand it. We don¡¯t know how to create things like this anymore.¡± Mell looked up to see his eyes set wistfully back at the trees as they trod on.


    ¡°That is a shame.¡± Mell set her smile on him now. ¡°Especially with how important magical inventions are becoming across Hethbarn. But that¡¯s all the more reason that I am glad I can help.¡±


    The city seemed to sparkle and glint as they grew closer. Mell experimented with how she might describe the Etnfrandian gate, the city, and the sunset in her memoir. Perhaps she would even ask Fenn to draw them for her. She had no skill in art, but she¡¯d seen Fenn¡¯s sketches of artifacts, ruins, and magic items. They were quite life-like. She gazed at Ar-Etnfrandia one last time as they turned off the main road at the crest of a ridge, fighting its draw.


    She turned to face the new view. ¡°Oh. wow.¡± In the dusk created by the mountains lay Greenriver Valley. The scenery was indeed green. Forests, orchards, vineyards, and fields patched the landscape between the mountains until the curve of the slopes hid it from view.


    ¡°Oh, Fenn, it¡¯s beautiful. I can¡¯t believe you stayed away from here for so long. What was it? Ninety years? It¡¯s amazing.¡± Mell looked to Fenn, but found him staring into nothing.


    ¡°A hundred and nineteen.¡± He seemed to almost choke on his reply. He offered an attempt at a smile. ¡°It certainly has a strong aesthetic appeal, doesn¡¯t it? And no lack of produce, either.¡±


    Despite his smile, the heart had dropped from his tone. ¡°Right.¡± How could I have been so thoughtless? Fenn had never spoken fondly of this place. She recalled one of the few stories he had told her of his childhood. His father had burned an original copy of an extremely rare and precious book, turning it to ashes. The book was so rare that Mell had not been permitted to lend it outside of the library. She had kept the library open and the fireplace burning all night just so Fenn could read that copy before it returned home to the archives of her clergy. Etnfrandia may be a place of beauty, culture, and art; a sojourning scholar¡¯s dream destination. But it had made a poor home for Fenn¡¯s curious mind.


    By the time they arrived at Fenn¡¯s cabin, it was too dark for Mell to see, though the sunset still glittered on the mountain¡¯s peak. The guards didn¡¯t light torches. They would never feel the need with their dark-seeing eyes. Fenn, more aware of human needs, lit a candle the moment they went inside his cabin. It illuminated hardwood floors, unfinished log walls, ornate rugs, a low table, a writing desk, and an iron stove of distinctly human crafting.


    Mell smirked. ¡°A man-made stove, huh?¡±


    ¡°I find I prefer the way humans roast their food.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°An elf with some sense.¡± She¡¯d never cared for how Wood Elves steamed everything in juice. She assumed Etnfrandians did the same.


    Fenn pursed his lips and took a seat. ¡°Not if you ask any Etnfrandian.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re the fools, Fenn.¡± She meant it in more than just food preferences. He didn¡¯t respond.


    Mell didn¡¯t sit. ¡°So¡­ sneaking out?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we have to wait a while longer for dark.¡±


    Incredulous, Mell gawked at the deep dusk outside and laughed aloud, then shook her head. ¡°Any darker and I may as well go swimming in the Black Lake.¡± That lake was so full of silt that you couldn¡¯t see your fingertips if you stuck your hand into the water.


    Fenn offered a sheepish half-smile. ¡°Except then you¡¯d need a bath after you were done. That won¡¯t be true tonight. You¡¯ll probably be getting one. Well, sort-of.¡±


    Mell cocked her head. Sometimes his attempts at jokes didn¡¯t quite land when you didn¡¯t have all of the information he did. ¡°What do you mean?


    ¡°Oh. The easiest way to get you into the city involves a bit of splashing about in a stream.¡±


    Mell sighed. Of course it did. She peered out again at the dusk, dreading the falling darkness.


    Then came a knock at the door.


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    It was really too light to be sneaking around by Elven standards, but Syrdin had to reach the peach orchards by the time of the Southern Wanderer¡¯s rising. It was barely dusk and zhe could still see for miles. The Etnfrandian elves would see much shorter distances, maybe half. Zhe could count on that. Zhe crept around Southward over the ridge to the valley.


    Zhe paused amongst an outcropping of trees and admired the view: lush, green, and brimming with fresh life. Certainly an extreme example of the beauty and verdure of the surface world. The Darkcaverns could never hope to compare. Plenty of beautiful species of moss and mushrooms lived there, but it was nothing to the vivacious orchards of the surface. Zhe breathed in the verdant air and let its vitality calm zhem.


    From here zhe had two options: cross over a field of tall grass and pray that no prying eyes tracked zhem, or loop further down into the valley to hide amongst the vineyards and arrive at the orchards late. A guard tower in the city peeked over the mountain¡¯s ridge. If zhe wasn¡¯t careful, zhe could be spotted.


    Zhe was always careful. Even better, zhe was prepared.


    Zhe reached in zheir bag and retrieved a cloak made from Kapor wool. The woven fabric was dyed bright green. It was not meant for camouflage with surroundings, but with the Etnfrandians. The light-weight, warm fabric was their top export. With this, zhe would nearly appear that zhe belonged here.


    Syrdin spied a path along the lower edge of the field and dodged between rocks and trees toward it. After listening to Fenn and Ceann Silverstem, zhe could pass as a native speaker of Etnfrandian Elvish if zhe needed, and no far-off guard would suspect a figure moving into Etnfrandia who could cross the so-called ¡°barrier.¡±


    If zhe could cross the barrier.


    Zhe may have cursed Sabaed and even sworn fealty to another goddess, but zhe was still a Night Elf. Syrdin strutted with a confident dignity across the field. A bead of sweat trickled on zheir brow, well hidden by zheir new hood. Zhe did not know what would happen if a hell-touched elf came in contact with the Warding Wall. It could be painful, or even deadly. Whatever it was, zhe hoped it wouldn¡¯t happen to zhem.


    A prick of light gleamed from the city watchtower, armor caught in the last ray of sun. Zhe gritted zheir teeth. Show no hesitation. As zhe approached the treeline, an iridescent glow shimmered between the branches. Birds flitted from tree to tree across the barrier, singing songs to end the day. Buds dotted the branches and young leaves poked out between them.


    Syrdin kept moving, jaw set. Zhe could feel the buzz of the magic before zhem. It met zheir skin, resisting. Zhe pressed on. It pushed against zhem. A foreign energy shot through zheir person, through the skin into every limb, every organ, into zheir very core. It seemed to search. Zhe stepped on.


    Who are you? A man¡¯s voice echoes in zheir head. To whom do you belong?


    Zheir limbs tingled, fingers numb. Zhe didn¡¯t respond. Zhe dared not reveal zhemself. A power surged within, pulling zhem foward. For a painful moment, zhe felt as if zhe would be torn in half from the soul outward. This one is mine. A woman, Ath-togail, was with zhem. The tension ceased. A bird sang. Syrdin gasped. Zhe was on the other side.


    The whole event had taken but a moment. Zhe was alone again.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Take that, Sabaed! A smile passed zheir lips unchecked and zhe continued zheir steady strides down the orchard path. The rest would be easy.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell peered around Fenn¡¯s shoulder to see a handsome young elf wearing a woven satchel at the door. He handed Fenn two rolled scrolls.


    ¡°Fyr-Ceann Silverstem and Ceann-Arthais Willowbirth each send word to you, Fennorin. The carriers have also arrived with a tent. Where would you like it set up?¡±


    ¡°Just at the edge of the clearing over there.¡± Fenn gestured in front of his cabin, then reached for the scrolls. ¡°May the wind carry you swiftly, messenger. Thank you.¡± Fenn bobbed his head and the messenger bowed.


    ¡°A breeze¡¯s bliss.¡±


    Mell suppressed a smile. She was way too excited to hear the archaic greetings spoken in casual conversation. Even more exciting: if Ceann Silverstem had referred to his daughter had Fennorin¡¯s betrothed, then Fyr-Ceann Silverstem would be none other than that same betrothed. It was a curiosity that Fenn had finally developed an interest in romance. Yet here was the evidence. She watched Fenn expectantly, waiting for him to open his letters. ¡°A letter from your betrothed?¡±


    ¡°Seems so,¡± he said without sparing a glance for the scrolls. He crossed the room, striding toward a writing desk. Her steps creaked on the wood planks behind him as she followed, trying not to peek around him. Then he placed the letters on the desk and turned away.


    Ouch. That¡¯s a bit harsh. She knew he was on bad terms with his father, but this was his betrothed. He¡¯d skirted the topic at the Meeting House. Well, they had time now.


    ¡°So, Fyr-Ceann Silverstem. Is she cute?¡± Mell offered him a mischievous smile.


    Fenn lifted his hand from where it had been scratching at his temple. ¡°Is who what?¡±


    ¡°Fyr-Ceann Silverstem, you just said she is your betrothed, right? I asked if she was cute.¡±


    He shifted his weight and rubbed his narrow chin. ¡°Hm, well most everyone seems to think so, though they would no doubt use the term ¡®beautiful.¡¯ We don¡¯t really use cute except to describe kits and such. Mostly, everyone admires her accomplishments as a singer and performer, but that isn¡¯t what you asked. Yes, she is my betrothed.¡±


    It was as detached an answer as Mell had ever heard. She pressed forward with the ribbing. ¡°But is she cute?¡±


    Fenn sighed. ¡°Mell, it¡¯s something of an arranged¡­¡± he hesitated, and seemed to search his mind for a word, ¡±marriage. The situation is a bit tangled.¡±


    Mell¡¯s brows furrowed. Marriage wasn¡¯t a word he would likely forget, especially not in his native Elvish. And he didn¡¯t seem particularly pleased. ¡°Is she an unpleasant person?¡±


    Fenn¡¯s eyes opened wide and he raised his hands in protest. ¡°No, no, not at all. She¡¯s perfectly lovely. Like I said, extremely skilled in music and song, and well-admired by our people.¡±


    ¡°Mm-hm, so you do like her.¡± Mell couldn¡¯t help the little smile that crept out. ¡°Yet, you don¡¯t seem too happy about the betrothal.¡±


    He sighed again, with no hint of his odd, purple blush on his cheeks. ¡°Well, no. I wasn¡¯t exactly looking to enter a partnership, or raise kids for that matter. My focus has been on my research and locating the Fae World. And my research is not exactly desirable to the Etnfrandians.¡±


    ¡°Well, they tend to have poor taste.¡± Mell regarded the stove in the corner. ¡°Art isn¡¯t everything to a culture any more than fruit juice is to food.¡± She watched Fenn nod slowly. Somehow, the betrothal must have been forced. Fenn never had shown romantic interest in any of his pursuers back at the University, and there had been a couple. Wait, did he mention kids? ¡°Oh by Lorthen! Fenn, is she pregnant?!¡±


    ¡°What? No! Don¡¯t be crass!¡± He cringed away from the mere thought of it.


    Mell rolled her eyes. Her eldest had been conceived out of wedlock. Sure, she had plenty of regrets about it, and even more about the subsequent marriage. But it was not impossible.


    Fenn pressed his lips together in thought, then perked up. ¡°So, have you heard anything from your ex-husband lately? The girls should be completely grown and on their own by now, shouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    She squinted at Fenn. He was far too eager. ¡°Yes. They¡¯re grown, so Brandon hasn¡¯t updated me in a while.¡± She pointed a finger at him. ¡°But don¡¯t change the subject. How did you get yourself roped up in an arranged marriage?¡±


    Fenn took in a breath. He ran a hand backward through his hair. It stuck up in the air, off his forehead, and slowly began to lie flat. ¡°Without going into a whole discourse on our marriage culture, this kind of partnership is initiated by the marton-to-be and affirmed by the fathers and patron. My father backed me into a corner. If I had not agreed to the arrangement, we wouldn¡¯t have a cabin to stand in right now.¡±


    This kind? Matron? Patron? No, Mell didn¡¯t understand any of it. ¡°What in Hethbarn does your father have to gain from this?¡± As soon as she asked, she realized the answer was obvious. Fenn¡¯s father was a Ceann, as was the girl¡¯s. It was a maneuver for influence. Because of the betrothal connection, Mell had been allowed inside Etnfrandia. The connection must extend to the fathers.


    ¡°Well, political alliance for one. To tie his¡ª¡±


    Mell cut him off. ¡°Nevermind, it was a dumb question. The real one is if the Fyr-Ceann is actually a good person, why not tell her about your research? Explain yourself to her?¡±


    Fenn studied the boots on his feet.


    She could not decide if that was shyness or shame. ¡°Oh? Too nervous that she¡¯ll be disappointed?¡± She nudged him. ¡°Fenn, do you actually like her?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more like,¡± he wilted under Mell¡¯s questions, ¡°I¡¯m afraid she would report me to the Council.¡±


    ¡°What? Report you?¡± What council?


    ¡°For pursuing illegal knowledge.¡± He shrunk into his shoulders, not daring to hold her gaze.


    Mell¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°Illegal?¡± she whispered it by instinct. ¡°Fenn, this is important information! Is it your exploration of the Fae? You have already been there, right?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Nobody from Etnfrandia knows about the Door, or my trips through it. Nor that I¡¯m actually attempting to locate the gods, or at least the ruins of their temples. Not even that I have ongoing research of magical artifacts.¡±


    She leaned in. It felt as though the very shadows dancing across the windows were listening, barely held at bay by Fenn¡¯s flickering candle. This had been the reason he¡¯d been nervous at the meetinghouse; why his letter had begged for absolute secrecy. She spoke low, ¡°Fenn, What happens if we¡¯re caught? A fine? Some jail time?¡±


    ¡°That would be the best case scenario.¡± He stared at his hands, clenched at his stomach.


    Mell wished she could bore a hole into his mind and discover what he had been thinking. ¡°Fenn. What. Are. The consequences?¡±


    ¡°For an Etnfrandian, I¡¯d guess exile.¡±


    ¡°Not so bad for you, considering. What about for an outsider?¡±


    ¡°Depends on the crime you are caught for, really.¡± He looked through a window that faced further into the Greenriver Valley, focused as though he could see someone far away, traversing the woods. ¡°And on the Outsider.¡±


    ¡°Fenn.¡± She pressed every bit of her impatience into her tone.


    ¡°For stealing an artifact, I¡¯d guess a long imprisonment. Lifelong for a human, I¡¯m sure. Not that that would be intentional. We just don¡¯t have a precedent for anything like it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well lovely.¡± Sarcasm leaked from Mell¡¯s voice. ¡°And for seeking out the Fae, and the gods, and such?¡±


    ¡°Well, attempting to propagate teachings on them as alive and available in the Faeworld may just get you executed, if it is ruled as dissemination of Forbidden Knowledge and Culture.¡± He said it matter-of-factly, as if that was not the precise fact he¡¯d clearly been avoiding.


    She closed her eyes and held in a groan. Though her clergy had sought the Fae for centuries, she had kept quiet. She was immensely glad she had.


    He shifted again. ¡°And then there¡¯d be an execution for any Dark Elf, for any reason.¡±


    Mell stiffened. She should have known he would figure it out. He had studied these things, even visited Brikhvarnn to interview the Night Elves there. But does Syrdin know the danger zhe is in?


    ¡°I¡¯d understand if you wanted to back out.¡± Fenn was fiddling with his hands now, rubbing at the callous on the side of his left pointer finger, his writing hand.


    Mell blinked. ¡°Are you kidding me?¡± She grabbed him by both of his upper arms and shook him. ¡°I¡¯ve been dreaming of this opportunity for decades. A little advance warning would have been nice, but no one knows what we¡¯re up to, and I¡¯m not about to go preaching to the multitudes of Etnfrandia, so we should be just fine.¡±


    Fenn nodded.


    She let go of him. She had one more question burning on her mind. ¡°But how did you find the passage? To the Faeworld.¡±


    He took a seat at his desk. ¡°Do you remember Professor Spacklebottom? The gnome who left his research to me?


    Mell suppressed a snort. She remembered the old coot. In all his eccentricities, one had been an obsession with Faerie lore, from which Fenn had gleaned plentiful knowledge. Near Fenn¡¯s age, he had passed away about five years before Fenn had returned to Etnfrandia.


    ¡°One of his notebooks contained witness accounts of Etnfrandia. In particular, a second-hand witness was a half-elf child of an Etnfrandian abdicator. She spoke of the ¡°last door¡± between the Wildlands¨Cerm Faeworld and Trueplane. In Etnfrandia.¡± Fenn went on to describe the many methods he¡¯d employed to locate this ¡°Door.¡± In the end, he had simply cracked it open¨Cwith magic.


    As he meandered down a tangent, Mell took a moment to wonder at how the Door her clergy had been seeking for hundreds of years had simply been sitting ¡°unlocked¡± in Etnfrandia. How did no one notice?


    ¡°There¡¯s so much we don¡¯t know, Mell.¡± Fenn¡¯s excitement pulled her back to their conversation. ¡°¡®Can you really destroy a history without also destroying its people?¡¯ My people are alive, so the history must be there for me to find. It¡¯s there, Mell. I can feel it.¡±


    Mell smiled sympathetically. He had quoted the late professor. She wasn¡¯t sure that his words meant what Fenn believed they did, if they meant anything at all. But the Elves did originate in the Faeworld, as did their gods. ¡°We¡¯ll definitely find something there, Fenn. Here¡¯s hoping it brings you some answers.¡±


    Fenn nodded, then grew silent, staring at his hands as he rubbed them together. ¡°About the betrothal, I wouldn¡¯t worry about it. Once we disappear with those artifacts, I¡¯m sure the Silverstems will cancel the contract.¡±


    So that is how he has chosen to handle the poor girl¡¯s feelings. Avoiding them. Part of Mell wanted to intervene, to make him tell her the truth. A girl deserved some honesty from her beau. But then she didn¡¯t understand their culture, only that Fenn felt trapped. Perhaps it truly would have been worse to inform a Fyr-Ceann that her attention was unwanted.


    Fenn glanced outside. ¡°Speaking of, I suppose it has to be dark enough. We better get moving if we are going to get everything done before dawn, when my father will no doubt come demanding your removal. Probably mine, too.¡±


    He stood and slid an ornate rug over from the center of the room to reveal a trapdoor. He lifted it up and gestured down into what was clearly a cellar. Peering inside, where there should have been barrels of fruits, vegetables, and grains, she saw instead shelves and chests. She clambered down into the dank room. With the trapdoor still open, she could just see his shelves were littered with notebooks, his own volumes upon reed-bound volumes labeled by chronology and subject matter.


    Mell smiled. She was glad to know Fenn had created a sanctuary of scholarship in this place. On her left, a shelf stood empty. ¡°No trunk of knick knacks?¡±


    He slid down behind her. ¡°I¡¯ve moved them to my¨Cto our camp on the other side.¡±


    Of course. Mell¡¯s skin prickled with excitement. The Faeworld. They would be there soon. He closed the trapdoor and she was plunged into absolute darkness.

 Chapter 4: Gods Underground

    In the days long before the Wars, when the elves had yet to cross the realms, they lived as five peoples: those of the Sun, Moon, Stars, Sky, and Night. Each tribe served their respective creator, and empowered by his Luth, made his lands to prosper.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    The tunnel at the back of Fenn¡¯s basement wound at odd angles. He¡¯d dug it himself, often making jagged turns when he ran into stone. Some sections required one to crouch in order to squeeze through. It ended in a small trapdoor. Fenn pulled it open. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves outside. Neck craned, he peered through the treeline that shielded them from view of his cabin.


    Two Everguards stood on either side of his front door some twenty strides away, armor reflecting the light of the West Moon. He stepped out from the doorway into the forest, ducking behind some shrubbery. Mell moved gingerly behind him, one hand wrapped around his forearm, and slid the door closed without a sound. She placed each step as though every inch of the path was rigged with traps, no doubt nervous without her sight.


    Fenn smiled in amusement at her care. There was no reason for the guards posted at his cabin to be looking for them. Not in the forest at an undocumented exit from his house. Still, it would benefit no one to be careless. He led her forward, crouched low. A songbird sang her song, crickets chirped, and the two stepped across the floor of rotted leaves. Small branches pulled at his tunic. He wished he¡¯d done something to trim them and create a path.


    ¡°Did you hear something in the woods?¡± A masculine voice drifted from the cabin.


    Fenn froze.


    He could see the other guard squint toward the treeline. She leaned in toward the other guard, then gestured in Fenn¡¯s direction.


    Winter¡¯s frost! The guards were alert. He needed a diversion. He glanced around, surrounded by trees, brush, and sticks.


    ¡°Stay here and watch the cabin. I¡¯ll check it out.¡± The first guard trod swiftly down the slope, slowing at the trees.


    Mell let go and ducked deep into some brush.


    Fenn felt around on the ground for something. Anything. His hand brushed a small stone. It wouldn¡¯t be much of a diversion, but it was his best bet. He faced an especially leafy bush down the slope. Gods, please, help us. Stone in hand, he cocked back his arm. If it would just tumble down the hill¡­


    He pitched the stone. Pitched it straight into a low-hanging bow in front of him.


    It slammed into the branch, bounced off, and flew straight back at him. He dodged in a scuffle of decayed leaves, the stone landing beside him with a solid thud. The guard rushed over and immediately spotted Fenn as he scrambled up.


    ¡°Halt! What¡¯s going on here?¡± The elf unsheathed the small, graceful sword of the Everguard and brandished it toward Fenn.


    ¡°No!¡± Fenn squeaked, hands raised in his panic, ¡°No need for a sword. It¡¯s not what it looks like.¡± He stared down at the point. ¡°I¡¯m just running a quick errand. To get my notebook.¡±


    The elf squinted and huffed his disbelief. ¡°Then you could have asked one of us. Where¡¯s the woman?¡±


    Fenn hesitated, but Mell stepped in before he thought of a reply.


    ¡°Here, sir, looking for the notebook,¡± she arose from the shadows, her Circlet of Lorthen beginning to glow dimly between her brows. The guard stepped back, taking a defensive stance.


    Mell smiled. ¡°And now you will leave us alone and speak of this to no one. You will tell anyone who asks about us that we¡¯re in the cabin.¡± A soft burst of divine energy came from the circlet and dissipated. The same light shimmered in the guard¡¯s eyes for a moment, and he placed a hand to his head.


    Fenn felt like he might choke on his own heartbeat. Please let the spell take.


    The guard lowered his sword. ¡°Right.¡± He sheathed it and walked away.


    Despite the rush of relief, he kept his breath baited.


    ¡°What was it?¡± the other guard called as the first approached the cabin.


    ¡°There was nothing. Those two are definitely still in the cabin.¡± He resumed his post.


    Fenn sighed. Thanks to Beauty. He waited for the crickets to take up their song before they moved on. ¡°Thanks,¡± he breathed to Mell as he pulled her along in the darkness.


    ¡°I hope you know that consumes a lot of magic energy,¡± she hissed back. ¡°And it won¡¯t last forever.¡±


    ¡°As long as it lasts the night.¡±


    Fenn took her silence as an affirmation that it would.


    They crept along in silence, from the woods into the seemingly overgrown vineyards and disorganized orchards of Etnfrandia¡¯s Greenriver Valley. They crossed from one orchard to another, marked only by the change in the shape of trees. Finally, Fenn stopped amongst low bows with wide-spreading branches and starry blossoms. Peach trees. This was where they would meet Syrdin.


    They waited. The Western Wanderer chased the crescent West Moon into the horizon, casting shadows across the ground. Just as he began to worry he¡¯d fumbled the directions he¡¯d provided, Fenn saw a figure creeping in the trees. He squinted, tense. A wave of doubt ran through him before he recognized the small stranger¡¯s hood. He pointed. Mell tensed and strained beside him, unable to discern anything in the dark. He¡¯d hoped she could, a little.


    ¡°Glad to see you found us.¡± Fenn called out to the shadow.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Syrdin answered.


    Mell breathed in relief. ¡°Is that what you were pointing at? I thought the other guard followed us or something.¡±


    He withered in shame, only now realizing how frightened Mell must have been. ¡°No, glad to say it¡¯s just our thief.¡±


    ¡°Right, so what¡¯s the plan?¡± Syrdin drew closer, looking at Fenn.


    Plan. That word had all the power of a noose as his throat slowly tightened. They expected him to have a full-fledged plan where he only had rough ideas. He was painfully aware of that now.


    ¡°Well, I was hoping you could help with that.¡±


    Syrdin shifted zheir weight, displeasure coloring zheir words. ¡°Then, what are we working with? City layouts? Schematics? A path in?¡±


    If he had withered before, he shriveled now. ¡°A backway I know, and a rather large building I can describe for you.¡± As half-formed as his thoughts were, it was time to transform them into a half-formed plan instead.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell could tell by the feel of packed earth under her feet that they¡¯d finally come out from the orchards to a main road. Starlight reflecting off Fenn¡¯s bright hair kept her on track behind him. Thank the gods for that bizarre, elven hair. She would have been lost in the maze of moonshadows without it.


    We must be near the city by now. It felt to her like half the night must have passed, and they still needed to retrieve Fenn¡¯s soldier friend. Do we really have time? Mell searched the sky for the hour. It was hard to tell through the towering pines, but it seemed the Wanderer constellation hadn¡¯t made a quarter of his trek. She shook her head. No more than an hour or two had passed since they¡¯d left the cabin.


    Fenn trotted now, making swift time toward the Southern Business Gate, or so Fenn had called it. He must be nervous. This gate entered the city''s middle tier. Mell shivered with excitement. Their destination was near the back of the top tier. She would have seen much of the city if they could have entered it at the gate instead of traversing beneath. Or perhaps she wouldn¡¯t have. If this road were any indication, elves didn¡¯t seem to believe in lamp posts.


    A small hand landed on Mell¡¯s shoulder. She flinched, but it was only Syrdin. Zhe tugged Mell off the path. On the horizon, darkness blotted out the stars in a rising wall. The wall, Mell realized, to Ar-Etnfrandia..


    ¡°We¡¯re about to walk into a creek,¡± Syrdin barely breathed the words, ¡°watch your step and follow it upstream.¡±


    Mell could just hear the trickle of water, barely a whisper. She looked around, but she had lost sight of Fenn in the shadow of the wall. Instead, she thought she saw a glint on the surface, a ripple running away from the city.


    Mell waded in, lifting her robes. She took a sharp inhale, shocked at the cold on her sandaled feet, and caught a whiff of something like an autumnal wind, crisp and fresh. The water, she realized, has a smell.  She trod carefully onward. The stone was smooth and slick beneath her, but once she waded toward the middle, sediment assured her footing. With each step, the ink wall rose higher in the sky until Mell had to crane her neck to see the top.


    ¡°Can you all swim?¡± Fenn whispered from somewhere on her right. Mell heard the soft rustling of leather as he removed his boots. Apparently, he hadn¡¯t been in the water at all.


    Mell snorted, a quiet puff. ¡°Is this what you meant by a bath, earlier?¡± She got busy removing her gray outer robe. ¡°Just how deep does it get?¡±


    ¡°Erm, about up to my middle. You should be fine, Mell. Syrdin,¡± he hesitated, ¡°you may want to remove some layers.¡±


    There was little chance of that. Mell didn¡¯t know much about Syrdin¡¯s upbringing or zheir escape from the dwarves, but she knew zhe had purple and gray skin, like polished stone, and stark white hair. A Night Elf, no doubt. Even Fenn seemed to suspect as much. Considering how much the two ethnicities hated one another, Syrdin would not risk revealing zhemself now.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. This isn¡¯t my first dip in the water,¡± came Syrdin¡¯s terse reply.


    Mell heard more rustling of fabric. ¡°Suit yourself, but you may want to stay close to me. It gets about as deep as you are tall when it pools.¡±


    Mell listened for Syrdin in the water, but heard nothing. Then Fenn sloshed in. Mell sighed and stepped forward, praying she wouldn¡¯t trip on anyone. In a few more steps, the wall seemed to swallow them up, and she was enveloped in deep darkness.


    ¡°Hey Fenn,¡± Mell¡¯s voice echoed softly around her. It seemed they were in some kind of cave or tunnel. ¡°What is this stream anyway? Obviously not sewage, but I¡¯ve never seen clean water under a city before.¡± She twisted her lips into a wry smile, ¡°Or in this case, smelled.¡±


    Mell thought she heard Syrdin chuckle under zheir breath.


    ¡°Oh, no, this is spring water. It¡¯s the main source of drinking water for the city, actually. It¡¯s one of the only springs in the region. The rest of the water comes from the seaward rain.¡±


    Mell was surprised to hear Syrdin speak up. ¡°And your people haven¡¯t dammed it?¡±


    ¡°Oh no, not more than it does naturally.¡± Fenn sounded chipper. ¡°It¡¯s considered disgraceful, near blasphemous even, to alter the natural course of a stream.¡±


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    Mell reflected on their journey. The orchards had felt like forests, with no neat rows like the orchards she knew. And any city in Hethbarn would¡¯ve had a grate over the stream where it ran under the wall. In fact, much of the elf-kept region had a natural, rugged edge to it that made it seem almost uninhabited by outside standards. Certainly untamed.


    They fell into an impenetrable quiet. Mell kept one hand on the water''s surface, the other holding aloft her robe. It rose past her hips now, and she shivered. The night wasn¡¯t exactly warm, and the springwater chilled her so goosebumps prickled her skin. Time seemed to melt away into the gentle lapping that echoed all around her.


    Her reverie was broken when a loose stone caught on her sandal, sending her stumbling. She gasped as the cold lapped at her chest. A spindly hand closed around her wrist and pulled her upright. Fenn. She shuffled over and placed a hand blindly on Fenn¡¯s back. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    The water level receded to Mell¡¯s knees and the sound of trickling and drips joined the cacophony of echoes. The air hung as though suspended in time.


    ¡°Phosus.¡± Syrdin¡¯s whisper danced about them. Suddenly, three bright, violet orbs appeared in the air. Mell¡¯s breath caught. The eerie light threw long shadows across a large cavern with many stalagmites and pillars decorating it in a chaotic maze of architecture. Her tension melted into a dazzled awe. The wet stone sparkled in the unnatural light, augmenting the gruesome beauty of the place.


    ¡°Thanks Syd,¡± Mell whispered.


    She waded after Fenn toward the soft rush of a waterfall, taking in the everchanging cavern views. The shadows of the stalagmites seemed to dance as they passed, warping into the forms of people.


    People. Mell stopped in her tracks, blinking. She caught Fenn by the elbow, tugging him back. She pointed to where, half-hidden amongst the natural formations, chiseled forms of elves danced and played in the stone. Here, a she-elf posed in an arabesque. There, an elfman played the flute encircled by two foxes in a game of chase. Another figure was seated on a stalagmite reading a book to elflings. Mell gasped in recognition. ¡°Kialmara!¡± She splashed over to it.


    What?¡± Fenn trailed after her.


    ¡°It¡¯s Kialmara Lorthen!¡± Mell repeated, forsaking the quiet they had kept. This was too important a discovery: pure, Elven renderings of the pantheon. ¡°I knew he was a Faerie god, but I thought you said your people didn¡¯t worship them anymore.¡±


    Fenn¡¯s brow creased over his glasses. ¡°They don¡¯t. They¡¯re nearly forgotten.¡± He stepped forward to inspect the statue.


    ¡°And look!¡± Mell pointed to another stone elf a few strides away with a headpiece much like her own, but with a round emblem overlaid with vertical lines of varying lengths. ¡°That one wears a Circlet of the Sun.¡± The wearer had curly hair and a young, almost boyish face. The version that the modern Sun Order worshiped had large, chiseled, human-like features and longer hair. This curly-headed youth must be the original one, unmarred by the clash of cultures.


    ¡°These statues, these are the gods?¡± Fenn barely breathed the question as he leaned in to view Lorthen up close. ¡°Cialmyra and Anruwan? I had no idea these were more than simple statues. I assumed it was someone¡¯s secret practice space.¡± Drops of water filled the awed silence.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s secret, all right.¡± Mell¡¯s mind spun with possibilities. Clearly these people had once remembered their gods. But this was underground. Literally. There could have been secret worshippers, an offshoot cult. Or perhaps a single individual could have sculpted this in the city¡¯s early years. Either way, it meant that the gods had once meant something to the Etnfrandians, just as Fenn had hoped.


    ¡°I, and other Etnfrandians, we explore down here as youths.¡± Fenn¡¯s brows were scrunched and his lips pressed one another in thought. ¡°And yet I never knew.¡±


    Mell traced her finger across Kialmara¡¯s book, looking for any detail, any sign as to what he was teaching. If Fenn had seen these statues as a youth, they were no less than two-hundred years old. She was no archaeologist, but they could be as old as one thousand. Their features were certainly worn smooth, and some nearer the water were partially melting away.


    Syrdin cleared zheir throat. ¡°As interesting as it all is, I suggest we keep moving. Unless we want to run out of night before we¡¯ve made it back here.¡±


    ¡°Right!¡± Fenn stood upright and adjusted his tunic, as though that would help him focus. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    The group splashed on, Mell still pondering the statues. They passed a handful more, but she couldn¡¯t recognize them: an armored she-elf, a scribe with a scroll¨Ca mustache carved out of her face. Mell frowned at the poor treatment of the sculpture. Probably the work of the youths Fenn had mentioned. They came before long upon the waterfall. It was a good thirty-feet tall, broken by slopes and shelves.


    ¡°Here we are! The Fountain of Youth! Not much farther from here.¡± Fenn prepared to climb.


    ¡°The Fountain of Youth?¡± Mell¡¯s lips twisted with mirth. ¡°So, I can expect to live forever after I climb this, right?¡± They all knew the legendary Fountain was hidden in the Heavenly Realm, but the name was the same. She couldn¡¯t resist.


    Syrdin snorted.


    Fenn flushed. ¡°Erm, a poor translation. I suppose I meant Adolescent¡¯s Waterfall, or something along those lines. Reas te h¡¯oyge.¡±


    Mell smiled. It did translate literally to fountain of adolescents. Youths¡¯ fountain. Considering what Fenn had told them about protecting natural formations, the Etnfrandians probably had no use for different words for waterfall and fountain. Modern Elvish did have one.


    Mell let her thoughts fade as Fenn started up the waterfall. He hopped up a rock, but slipped on the second shelf and came tumbling down to the bottom. He landed on his back with his arms up, his satchel raised just out of the pooled water.


    Mell¡¯s crackling laughter echoed across the cavern. ¡°Very elegant, Mr. Elf.¡± She stretched out a hand to help him up. ¡°I guess this means you weren¡¯t one of the adolescents the waterfall was named for?¡±


    Fenn flushed even more purple in the violet glow of Syrdin¡¯s orbs. He grasped Mell¡¯s hand and hopped to his feet. ¡°I preferred to go sketching in the Valley.¡± He wiped droplets off his glasses and went to start again. Syrdin cut him off, a silent acrobat leaping deftly from shelf to slope until zhe landed with a quiet sploop at the top of the waterfall. Zhe stared down pointedly.


    Fenn righted himself and copied zher movement perfectly, his long body easily reaching the same secure jumps zhe had demonstrated for him. No splash at the end. He landed outside the pool above.


    Mell sighed in annoyance. ¡°Very pretty performance, oh dainty elves,¡± She huffed as she clambered up the fall, hauling her heavy-set frame from shelf to shelf. Sure, it left her a bit out of breath, but that wasn¡¯t too bad for a middle-aged human.


    Another cavern awaited them at the top. The ceiling there loomed lower overhead and the walls narrowed. They waded onward for what must¡¯ve been a dozen city blocks, winding around confusing paths until Mell was completely turned around. Then they turned off into a tunnel that led up through the wall. Mell could see why they didn¡¯t bother to secure this route into Ar-Etnfrandia. Only someone who knew the way could navigate this cavern system and come out atop the city. It would be much easier to get lost. Not to mention this was far inside the magical barrier that protected the region.


    The rough stone smoothed into a triangular shape and the echoes narrowed with it. Syrdin let zheir lights fade as they started up a spiral staircase at the end. Lanterns were spaced around the place, glowing warmly against hewn stones. Fresh night air beckoned out a window. Fenn stopped on a landing in front of a large pine door and grabbed his boots out of his satchel. Mell felt her breath turn shallow. She spared half a thought for where the ascending stairway led as she pulled her robe back on. The City of Ar-Etnfrandia. She fidgeted with her belt tassels, her fingers clumsy with excitement. And it has lanterns.


    ¡°Hoods up, you two,¡± Fenn instructed, ¡°and pretend you are supposed to be here.¡±


    With that, he opened the door.


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    The City of Etnfrandia lay before them. Syrdin¡¯s eyes darted around, scanning for danger with practiced scrutiny. At the highest point of the city, on their left, a grand entrance had been carved out of the mountain. Its asymmetrical design might have blended with the natural rockface if it weren¡¯t for images of trees, flowers, and creatures carved in it. Along the edge of a cavernous archway, a stone antelope was depicted at various stages of ascent, poised as though bounding in graceful leaps.


    Syrdin did a double-take of a stone sentinel of the Everguard standing in front of the archway, details so accurate that it could have been a soldier turned to stone. The smooth natural rock at his feet rolled into a huge cobbled terrace cracked with trees and flowers. Streetlights in the shape of trees cast silver light across this upper courtyard. Buildings, tall and uneven, protruded like rocky outcroppings made elegant with vines, moss, and crystalline windows. The few guards who stood posted atop the walls seemed to pay no mind to the three of them.


    ¡°Beautiful,¡± Mell breathed beside zhem.


    Arsdark take me if these Everguards haven¡¯t become overly comfortable. Zhe scanned for a sign that any of them were truly alert. Zhe found none.


    ¡°This way.¡± Fenn beckoned to them from a few feet toward the right. ¡°We¡¯re going there.¡± He pointed to a large structure of half stone, half a slanting slab of crystal and marble. It sat near the edge of the courtyard, placed partially behind another building. Its entrance sat in plain view of both the wall and the terrace. Very little cover at its main entrance. In case of emergency, best to vacate from the rear.


    Fenn strode forward at a steady, businesslike pace, acting as though this whole night escapade were routine. The faint twitch of his hands, his thumbs rubbing his fingers, gave away the truth; he was riddled with anxiety.


    Syrdin fell into step behind Mell. Her gaze was fixed on the opposite side of the courtyard where a group of elves stood talking and laughing around a firepit. One of them struck up a lyrical ditty, and two more started dancing together. The easy flow of it seemed to invite others to join in with a too-powerful draw. It was as if they rode the border of an enchantment, fingers reaching toward a magic that, unbeknownst to them, was readily available if they would only grasp it.


    And Fenn claims these elves know no magic. They aren¡¯t so different from us.


    Mell took a step in that direction before turning away. Syrdin half-smiled. Zhe could only imagine the uproar it would cause if zhe and Mell threw off their hoods and joined in.


    As they neared their destination, Fenn slowed. ¡°Syrdin,¡± he said, ¡°once we go in, I need you to scout around and find out if anyone is left in the building and their whereabouts. Let us know if there are any guards present. The items we desire are displayed on the main floor, where anyone passing through can see. We will wait in the main hall by the White Willow until you report.¡±


    Syrdin gritted zher teeth. Zhe wasn¡¯t impressed with Fenn¡¯s leadership so far. He¡¯d had no plan in the beginning. Their current, rough plan involved the same route for their entry and exit¡ªa poor choice¡ªand now he was relying on zhem, who knew nothing of this place, to scout around.


    Fenn turned to Mell. ¡°You can divine whether there are traps, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Are you expecting there to be traps?¡± Mell seemed surprised. Perhaps because they supposedly don¡¯t use magic.


    ¡°My father is curator of the building.¡± Fenn scratched the nape of his neck and grimaced as an apology. ¡°He¡¯s been known to be careful beyond reason.¡±


    Mell¡¯s expression twisted into a smile. ¡°Well, today we are making him careful within reason.¡±


    Fenn bit his lip. ¡°Let¡¯s hope he doesn¡¯t find that out.¡±


    Great. Zhe¡¯d be marching straight into unknown territory with suspected traps of unknown nature. Potentially magical. Syrdin hoped Fenn had at least a mental contingency plan, because their odds of sneaking up on a sleeping Ink Bat were better. And those things could literally hear for miles.


    Zhe stepped up front as they approached the building. Deep in the shadows next to the door, a figure moved, armor catching a shred of light. ¡°Fenn, there¡¯s a guard at the front door in the shadows.¡±


    Fenn squinted. ¡°So there is. Follow me.¡±


    Syrdin trod behind him as he overshot the front door and passed around another structure covered in vines. They circled back and arrived at the rear door. Fenn pulled the long handle. It didn¡¯t budge. Locked.


    ¡°Strange,¡± he muttered, ¡°it¡¯s like they expected something tonight.¡±


    Really not looking good. ¡°Perhaps they got word that there¡¯s an outsider here.¡± Syrdin stepped up to the door. Zhe leaned in toward the keyhole and traced it with zheir finger. By the shape, its key would be long and narrow, with many branches curving in all directions. Very elven. Very difficult to pick. Syrdin reached into the recesses of zheir garb and pulled out a lock pick and pressed the tool into the lock.


    Couldn¡¯t Fenn just let us in?


    The pick wouldn¡¯t take like this, but zhe might learn the shape. Zhe¡¯d have to deform it to fit the keyhole. After some prodding, zhe pulled out the tool and bent and twisted it til zhe was satisfied. This time, zheir jiggling rendered several clicks. Syrdin tried the door. Still locked.


    Syrdin looked at Fenn, zheir tone flat. ¡°It might save time if you go in the front and let us in. This could take me a while.¡±


    Mell flinched. It seemed she had thought the same, but hadn¡¯t said anything. Fenn looked at his boots and shifted his weight, embarrassed.


    ¡°You are allowed in, right?¡± Syrdin prompted, frustration leaking into zheir tone. No point in saving his feelings. Zhe was more concerned with saving the job.


    ¡°I hadn¡¯t considered splitting up,¡± he said at last. ¡° But it¡¯s a good idea. I¡¯ll be right there.¡± He disappeared around the corner.


    Syrdin kept alert. This building was on the outermost part of the upper circle and they could see the city wall some thirty paces away. Struggling pines broke the path between them and the wall. No one passed by. No guard paced that wall''s top. Perhaps this job isn¡¯t so dangerous. The wind rustled the branches. Mell¡¯s breath came in shallow gasps. Her eyes were fixed on a tree at the base of the wall. She¡¯s scared, Syrdin realized.


    ¡°There¡¯s no one within line of sight.¡± Syrdin placed a hand on her shoulder as zhe spoke. ¡°You can relax.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Mell straightened and wrapped her robe tighter, creating wet spots on her hips where the water bled through. A groaning creak told them the door unlocked. It pushed outward toward them. It was not Fenn who stood before them, but a young she-elf with brown hair and tan skin. ¡°Hello,¡± she practically sang the words, ¡°you must be Syrdin and Mellark. I¡¯m Galendria.¡±


    Syrdin ground zheir teeth and reached for a dagger. The night had taken a dangerous turn after all.

 Chapter 5: The Father and the Bride

    The city-states of Hethbarn were scattered in their efforts and refused to offer one another aid. Even the Wood Elves failed to join the fight, a fact that Etnfrandians resent to this day. To their North, the irreligious Brikhvarnni remained uninvolved, then only a fledgling civilization.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    Krid paced beneath a greatpine on the mountainside, tail swishing impatiently. He shut his second, opaque lids and breathed heavily, smelling for the presence of people. Sharp pine and floral scents invaded his snout. No people. No Fenn. He¡¯d seen the holy woman pass by earlier that day, meaning Fenn would come tonight. He had dismantled his camp in anticipation.


    He sighed and opened his eyes. He¡¯d grown accustomed, over his travels, to seeing a lush green world. This area seemed especially so. Pine needles poked between his claws with each step. The earth here was soft in some places, and stoney in others. He¡¯d done his best to stay on stone. The dirt caved under his weight, and the wind would not blow away his footprints as in the sand of his homeland.


    The sand. Krid found himself longing for the heat and sun of Brikhvarnn: open skies, full of possibilities; bright sun to warm the soul; soft sands for gentler walking. None of this cold, damp nonsense. He reached up and wiped dew from his brow. His movements felt sluggish in the chill of night.


    Not everyone felt the same as he did about his homeland. The drakeman chuckled to himself, remembering the first time he¡¯d met Fenn, the lad passed out in the sand, red-faced as the desert rose, a victim of Brikhvarnni noontime. Doubtless, he would have died out there if Krid¡¯s unit had not passed by. That bright hair of his had caught the sunlight, arousing Krid¡¯s curiosity. A mere recruit at the time, he had seen but a handful of men, and even fewer highland elves.


    He¡¯d rescued Fenn, of course. Though, as a military scout, it had not been his duty to rescue a noncitizen traveler, it was his moral obligation to protect the weak. He could not have guessed that the spindly yucca of an elf would become his sworn brother. But Fenn had stood by him when Krid chose to remain in the military against his bloodclan¡¯s better judgment.


    Few had done the same. Only Fenn and Fridana. Fridana. My beautiful red-scaled bride. Krid dabbed at the dew under his eyes. He longed to return to her and their daughter. But Fenn requested his aid, and he would do all in his power to help him. He owed Fenn that much. For standing beside him when no one else would. For helping him to change his fate. Krid nodded to himself.


    He looked up. The Wanderer was nearly halfway through his journey through the skies, now. Where could that newt be?


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    Fenn strode to the front of the Culture Center and pretended water did not still drip from his pants. Perhaps their path through the underground springs had been flawed, but it was too late now. He offered a nod to the guard and reached for the door. He only needed to cross the building and open the back door to the others.


    ¡°She¡¯s quite keen to see you, you know,¡± the guard offered a knowing smile as Fenn passed.


    Fenn blinked. He smiled back as if he knew what the guard meant. Confusion would only raise suspicion. He stepped in.


    Moonlight cascaded down from the slanting crystal wall. Pillars hung with vines cast tangled shadows across the marble floors. In the center of the room next to the white petrified willow, lit by a shaft of silver light, stood Galendria. Next to her, the long, glittering strands of crystal leaves hanging from the tree became dull. Fair and graceful, she hummed a tune to herself, letting her long skirts trail as she swayed. Her hair was half up in a braid, and the rest draped down her back like a loose cape.


    Fenn¡¯s heart dropped to his stomach. Not her. Not here. Not the one person in the world he couldn¡¯t stand to disappoint.


    The door closed behind him with a thud. She turned and smiled a small, sweet smile.


    ¡°So, you did come here.¡± She slid across the room as graceful as a dancer. Her gaze alighted on him only briefly before searching past him. ¡°And where is the scholar?¡±


    Fenn¡¯s face went pale. ¡°The Scholar?¡±


    ¡°The dark-skinned clergy woman whom my father described. Is she not with you?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Fenn pressed the panic out of his voice. ¡°I¡¯m sure you are aware that I can¡¯t bring her here.¡±


    Galendria laughed a melodious, sparkling laugh that twinkled with mischief. ¡°And I can¡¯t marry someone so far beneath my station,¡± she goaded.


    It wasn¡¯t a jab at his standing. Fenn had said those very words to her about himself only a few months ago when she and her father had first approached him about the match. He¡¯d fought it, reasoning with her about his undeserving nature.


    It was a strong argument, one he believed whole-heartedly. He was inartistic and bookish. Amongst the Etnfrandians, it didn¡¯t get much worse. Many cultivators gained more reverence. They at least created beauty by growing life. Plus for him, the autonomy of bachelorhood better facilitated his study of illegal topics. Yet no matter how he had protested, she and both of their fathers had insisted on the match. To hear his own words turned upon him so lightly¨Che felt foolish.


    ¡°She¡¯s back outside my cabin,¡± he insisted, ¡°resting after her travels.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course. At the cabin that contained neither of you and with the guard who insisted it contained you both.¡± Galendria rolled her eyes at his shocked expression. ¡°She¡¯s at the back door, right?¡± She swiveled in that direction.


    Beauty¡¯s sake. She must have come to the cabin soon after we left.


    ¡°Wait! Galendria! You¡­¡± he reached out a hand toward her, then let it fall as she turned back toward him. ¡°You better not get involved in this.¡± Fenn dropped his gaze to the stone floor


    ¡°In what?¡± She looked ready to laugh again. ¡°A little sneak peek for a curious scholar?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± he struggled to find the words that would convince her to leave without revealing anything. ¡°What about your honor?¡±


    ¡°My honor?¡± She raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You would have a long way to fall if you were to get in trouble. There¡¯s a lot to lose if your honor is stained.¡± He swallowed hard. It¡¯s not a lie. ¡°I¡¯d hate to be responsible¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure that I should be the one to decide what to do with my honor.¡± Her genuine indignation surprised him. ¡°Besides, who is going to catch us?¡±


    Fenn let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Well, hopefully no one, but¡ª¡± his panic rose as Galendria strode toward the back door, ¡°we aren¡¯t here just to look around.¡± Fenn reached for a lie that would force her to leave. ¡°Some of the items here, they¡¯re magical, and we¡­ well, we¡­¡±


    ¡°You want to study them?¡± She pinched her brow in thought. ¡°But then¡­¡± Her eyes lit with wild excitement, ¡°are you here to take them?¡±


    Fenn gawked. She¡¯d guessed that unreasonably quickly. And now, the Flower of Etnfrandia, beloved by all, known for her warmth, grace, and lovely singing, was excited by the idea of thievery.


    ¡°Just so we can identify them¨Cto find out what they can do, and why.¡± He hated lying to her. He just couldn¡¯t afford the risk of telling her. A journey into the Wildlands? She¡¯d surely stop them before they¡¯d even left the building. ¡°We¡¯ll return them in due course.¡±


    She smiled over her shoulder as she headed for the back door. ¡°Naturally. Though, I don¡¯t see how you plan to hide them while you work.¡±


    Fenn adjusted his glasses and went to follow her. ¡°Hold on, it¡¯s not just the scholar there. I also hired¡­. an expert.¡±


    <hr>


    Galendria


    ¡°An expert?¡± Galendria paused, her hand on the door. ¡°In what field?¡±


    Fenn sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat. ¡°Syrdin¡¯s a thief of some kind. Try not to be frightened of zhem.¡±


    What¡¯s a zhem? Galendria¡¯s brow scrunched, but she would not back down now. She had finally learned some clue as to why Fenn had been distant these last years. Why he had resisted her approach. It had nothing to do with me all along. She¡¯d been worried, especially after he¡¯d entertained that human woman in his home.


    She swung open the door, smiling. ¡°Hello, you must be Syrdin and Mellark. I¡¯m Galendria Silverstem.¡± A large woman in an oddly plain robe stood in the door¡¯s light, a short, hooded person next to her. Eyes like a wolf¡¯s glowed from under the cowl, and Galendria saw a flash of metal at his hip. She shrank back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± The robed woman, Mellark, set her arm across Syrdin. ¡°That¡¯s Fenn¡¯s betrothed.¡±


    Mell removed her arm as Syrdin sheathed a dagger. The little¨C-well, Gale didn¡¯t know what¨Cbrushed past her into the building. ¡°I don¡¯t remember her being a part of the plan.¡± The voice that came from under the hood was sharp and icy, as unforgiving as the North Wind. Galendria gawked. The rude stranger didn¡¯t even remove his hood.


    ¡°Mellark, Scholar-Savant,¡± the human gave a warm, broad smile to accompany her polite bow. ¡°Pleasure to meet you. Fenn speaks very highly of you.¡±


    Galendria smiled and offered her hand as her father had taught her to do for humans. ¡°Fyr-Ceann Gale, and the pleasure¡¯s all mine.¡± Mellark shook it with large, soft hands. Galendria couldn¡¯t help but notice that they were fair and pink on the inside, unlike the rest of her skin, dark as pine bark.


    ¡°Sorry about my companion, zhe is not good with strangers.¡±


    She? Galendria forced her smile not to crack. I¡¯d hate to know what she¡¯s like with friends. ¡°Consider it snow in springtime.¡± Galendria paused, realizing the saying may not translate. ¡°Ah, that is, melted away.¡±


    Mell grinned, a wide, genuine gesture when she wore it, with a glimmer of playfulness. ¡°With all the warmth of the sunshine.¡±


    She speaks Elvish! Gale felt the surprise show on her face, and that pleased the Scholar even more. Her father had mentioned that she¡¯d demonstrated good, Elven manners. ¡°O-of course.¡±


    With that, Galendria waltzed back over to Fenn, the Scholar trailing behind her. ¡°So how does the next part of the plan go? Anything in particular we are snatching?¡± She tried to seem chipper, but underneath she felt a mounting concern. The rudeness of the thief, and the oddity of having a human here, no matter how well-mannered¡­ it was a bit much.


    Fenn hesitated, still taken aback by her cheerfulness. Good. She would prove that she was the companion he wanted. He could trust her.


    ¡°Well, Syrdin is doing zheir job. We need to go to the display room and see if it¡¯s trapped. Then we¡¯ll check which artifacts are magical, and Syrdin can grab those for us.¡±


    Galendria glanced around, realizing Syrdin had disappeared. That set her ill at ease. She shook herself. He mentioned magic items. ¡°I think I can help with that.¡± She slid past him into the Display room, a large area adjacent to the White Willow for which the Willowbirth¡¯s had been named. The tree was long dead and petrified, but the Culture Center had been built around it while it still lived, and the keepers of Tradition had been named for it.


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The other side of the building had a stone second story, but not this side. Instead, the slanting, crystalline roof swooped from several body lengths above her until it nearly reached the floor on the other side of the room. The area was lit by a silver lamp post akin to the ones outside as well as by the light leaking in through the ceiling.


    The room had a smattering of exquisite vases, armor, weapons, jewelry, and other personal effects on display. Artifacts that encapsulated the magnificent Culture and artistic accomplishments of the Etnfrandian people.


    Despite the pride they held in these items, the room smelled dusty. The artifacts may have been regularly cleaned, but they were not often visited except annually by school-age elflings.


    Galendria strode to the center of it near a decorative set of armor. She gave one more reassuring smile to Fenn before she put her hands together and inhaled deeply. A thrill shivered down her spine. He had shared some of his secrets with her. It was time to do the same.


    ¡°Tayspaen doan Drayht¡± A warm glow bubbled within her. Suddenly, the room was lit with auras, like smells, wafting in the air. Magical auras. The spell allowed her to sense magic in the objects and people around her. There were, as Fenn had assumed there would be, several magical items around. And each of them gave off a slightly different ¡°smell.¡±


    Mellarks¡¯s circlet gave off a smell like the mustiness of books, and a warm, benevolent glow. The woman was casting her own spell. Galendria turned and faced a necklace that smelled like a charm spell. She leaned forward to inspect it, then tilted her head to Fenn, who was gazing at her with his mouth half-open. ¡°This is magical.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t take it until Mell¡¯s done.¡±


    Galendria flinched. That Syrdin had appeared out of nowhere right next to her.


    ¡°That is just fine,¡± Galendria kept the bite out of her tone. Melted like snow¡­ ¡°I am merely pointing it out.¡±


    She glanced at Fenn, who was too dumbfounded to interject. Then the glow from the Scholar¡¯s circlet faded, an effect of spellcasting, not of Galendria¡¯s temporary sense for magic.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    There was a trap somewhere in the room. Mell¡¯s circlet dimmed as the spell ended. It linked an object within the building to a silent alarm¨Cwhich object, she could not determine. ¡°There¡¯s nothing dangerous, just an alarm trap somewhere. Probably on whatever is most valuable,¡± Mell relayed to her companions.


    ¡°How odd.¡± Fenn¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°My father shouldn¡¯t have access to such enchantments.¡± He still followed Galendria, unusually quiet in his confused state.


    With her part apparently complete, Mell let herself study the girl. There was something different about her. It wasn¡¯t that she was extremely beautiful¨Cfor an elf¨Cit was that her bearing was so elegant that she seemed more to float rather than walk. Good for you, Fenn. She would have been a catch if he wasn¡¯t planning to run away into the Faeworld.


    Galendria went about the room pointing to objects that emitted magical aura, her every movement fluid and refined, like liquid silver. Her spellcasting was obviously not a common talent amongst Etnfrandian Elves like it was among Wood Elves. Mell had known this country had abandoned the use of magic outside of art and architecture. If Fenn¡¯s behavior was any indication, there were rules against it even within those genres.


    Syrdin, whose prior search of the building had found no occupants, was placing the magic items in a large bag, where they disappeared without bulging the sides. Some weeks ago on their journey, Mell had ascertained that the bag was connected to an inter-realm storage space. She¡¯d have to tell Fenn about it. That was the sort of magic item that excited him.


    Into realm storage went a crystal in a carved wooden box, a fine metal grip for a walking staff, and a necklace of interwoven detail. Each item was flawlessly crafted and richly decorated in the style of the elves. Mell found herself reconsidering whether Fenn would find the bag interesting with those items around.


    Fenn, finally remembering some words, spoke to Galendria. ¡°Fyr-Ceann, your father oversees the Twin Gate Mellark and I walked through today.¡±


    Mell grimaced. It wasn¡¯t even a question.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she nodded her head as she gazed around the room. ¡°He is the only one who can approve visitors.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know how to operate the gate?¡± Fenn¡¯s fingers fidgeted in front of him, then he rubbed his palms. Cute. Mell smiled to herself at his nerves. She wasn¡¯t sure why he bothered asking her at all. Both she and Fenn could determine how to operate magic objects, she through a spell and he through study.


    Galendria turned and pointed to some armored boots under a complete decorative set. ¡°Just the boots from here.¡± She mused at Fenn¡¯s question as she milled about. ¡°Well, I know there¡¯s a switch that operates it, but the operator must bear the Silverstem crest or it fails to function.¡±


    Mell winced inside. So that¡¯s why he asked. It used recognition magic. Of course. She hoped Fenn had a backup plan.


    Galendria stared at Fenn, a question written on her face.


    Fenn caved under the gentle pressure of it. ¡°Erm, I was hoping I¡¯d be able to let Mell out if I needed to.¡±


    Galendria scrunched her brow in disbelief. ¡°Fenn, the barrier only keeps people out, not in.¡±


    ¡°Ah, th-that¡¯s true.¡± He flushed his unique shade of purple. ¡°Nevermind then.¡±


    Mell set her mind to work on this new puzzle: how to let that dragonfolk soldier into Etnfrandia so he could accompany them to the Faeworld. Fenn had specified the rift was inside the barrier. She didn¡¯t get far in her thoughts.


    ¡°You already have a scholar and a thief. Who else were you going to let in?¡± Galendria had stopped and crossed her arms over her bosom.


    Mell grinned at the wall. Clever she-elf.


    Fenn cringed. The poor man just had no talent for lying. ¡°I¡¯m going on a journey into the Faeworld to find out just where we came from.¡±


    Galendria flinched stiff. ¡°The Faeworld? You mean¨Cthat¡¯s another realm! It¡¯s¨Cyou think it¡¯s the Wildlands?¡±


    Mell had heard Fenn call it the same term. Until now, she assumed it was the elven term for the realm. Now she reconsidered.


    Fenn nodded, serious.


    Gale breathed in, as though inhaling the idea, then turned and pointed to a longbow with silver plating and ornate golden accents. ¡°That one is the last magic item. It¡¯s got a bigger aura, too, so be careful.¡± She chewed her lip, then stared at Fenn without another word, waiting for him to say more.


    In the silence, Syrdin snuck behind her and inspected the bow¡¯s setting for a trap.


    Fenn pressed his glasses into the bridge of his nose as though that would push the right words out of him. ¡°The Fae is¡­ not like here, so¡­ I have one more friend I asked to come. He can offer us some protection.¡±


    Gale stared at him, concern and hurt mingling in her eyes. ¡°And now that you decide to be honest with me, you tell me you intend to go into harm''s way. For the sake of what, exactly? A little history lesson?¡±


    ¡°The history and truth of our people, Gale. Everything we celebrate at our festivals, every text and every poem and song we perform, it all points to a greater knowledge, a greater beauty. It¡¯s got to be there¨Cwhere we came from.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°Assuming elves really are Faerie.¡±


    Mell suppressed her inner recoil at the girl¡¯s ignorance. The Etnfrandian¡¯s truly didn¡¯t learn about their origins.


    ¡°We are.¡± Fenn stood tall, the scholarly bend to his back disappearing.


    ¡°And what if there isn¡¯t anything to find?¡± Gale set her jaw. She seemed ready to detain him by force.


    ¡°There. Is.¡± Fenn didn¡¯t move. His eyes burned from behind his glasses. ¡°We are Faerie. There has to be.¡±


    The she-elf crossed her arms. ¡°You¡¯re really so determined to go?¡±


    Mell thought Fenn¡¯s expression was answer enough, but he seemed to search for an explanation anyway. His brows were low and his hands clenched, but his gaze was unfocused, or rather focused within his mind. He opened his mouth to answer.


    ¡°Someone¡¯s coming!¡± Syrdin hissed at them from the now-empty bow display.


    ¡°Quick! Hide!¡± Fenn commanded, ¡°I¡¯ll distract them. Go through the backdoor.¡±


    <hr>


    Galendria


    As the others dashed away, Galendria found herself pulled to Fenn¡¯s side. He wrapped an arm under hers so they were linked. He gave her an earnest, almost pleading look and strode toward the entry hall to intercept the newcomer, taking her with him.


    Fenn really intends to go to the Wildlands. She didn¡¯t have time to ponder it.


    An elflord stepped silently around the corner, his masses of folded robes cascading behind him. The moonlight that shone through the crystalline roof caught in his silver hair and cast deep shadows over his eyes, deep-set like his son¡¯s.


    ¡°Ceann Willowbirth,¡± Galendria bowed, pulling Fenn down with her. ¡°We did not expect you would be up so late.¡±


    ¡°And so you disturbed one of my relics?¡± the elflord glared down his nose at them.


    ¡°Only to have a peek, Athyr, nothing more,¡± Galendria lied. The Ceann remained unmoved. ¡°Fenn pulled it out so I could have a closer look.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault, Athyr,¡± Fenn added in her defense, ¡°I know you wish for them never to be touched. I take the blame. I¡¯m sorry it alerted you. I did not know you could place that kind of magic. It was my impression that you disapproved of it.¡±


    Now is not the time to mix bitter herbs into your dough, Fenn. Galendria glued a pleasant smile on her face.


    ¡°I won¡¯t pretend I am not pleased to see you out with Fyr-Ceann Galendria rather than some human woman,¡± the Ceann¡¯s voice was as frosty as a winter storm, ¡°but do not let Ceann Silverstem¡¯s admission of your guest embolden you to bend the laws of Etnfrandia. They are not as flexible as the laws of men you¡¯ve come to know so well. I will not protect you. If it comes to light that you have been smuggling anything in or out¨Cartifacts, people, knowledge¡ªI will be the first to call for your arrest, not the last.¡±


    The elflord leaned forward. His pale complexion against the deep shadows of his face gave him a ghastly appearance. She shivered. How could he be so unfeeling toward his own son, accusing him so? But then, the accusations¡­ they weren¡¯t misplaced.


    Fenn set his feet, his back straight. It was unlike him. ¡°Father, you may believe that my time in the outside world has ruined me, but I will not stand to be accused of expropriating the culture of our people. I have as much interest as you in the conservation¨C¡±


    ¡°Do not feign loyalties to my culture, boy.¡± Olfeiros¡¯ voice echoed across the cold, dark walls. ¡°You abandoned your rights to it long ago, chasing faerie tales and magic long dead.¡±


    Fenn¡¯s head lowered beside her. Galendria cleared her throat. She had to do something. ¡°Perhaps the Ceann would hear an explanation from me?¡± She spoke in that genteel timidity appropriate for addressing the Ceann.


    The elder Willowbirth softened. ¡°Yes, Flower, from you I will hear what business brings my son to the Center of Culture at such a late hour.¡±


    Galendria took a breath. She¡¯d never cared for Ceann Willowbirth anyway, and this was more than she could bear. She would stand with Fenn. ¡°You see, when my father gave me news of Fennorin¡¯s guest, I sought out an explanation. I sent to tell him I was coming to his cabin, but he requested that we meet here instead because his guest was resting after her travels.¡±


    The lies spilled off her lips, her conviction guiding them. ¡°When I got here, he explained that this, of all places, was the best for discussing the cultural importance for which he brought the woman. You see, she is a servant of one of the Fae gods, the gods interwoven in our art. For example, Fenn was just explaining to me the divine significance of the longbow before you arrived.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Olfieros¡¯ tone was unmoved by her tale. ¡°And what, pray tell, was the divine significance of my grandfather¡¯s heirloom?¡±


    Heirloom. Galendria stammered, the lies now stuck on her tongue.


    ¡°The sun-god,¡± Fenn saved her from stumbling further, ¡°the bow bears the crest of the Sun-God, Anruwan. And I believe it also bears an enchantment, Faerish magic.¡±


    Galendria hoped he wasn¡¯t inventing that, even if it sounded fantastical.


    Olfieros stepped forward. He was not taller than Fenn, but in this moment he towered over him. He began speaking in a didactic tone. ¡°¡®Do not seek culture where the House of Tradition has not approved it. This is the law of the land. Do not create stories that do not come of old, and do not add to the words of our ancestors that which was not passed down.¡¯ Do you know, my son, what I am quoting?¡±


    Galendria¡¯s eyes went wide, but her worry was misplaced. Fenn knew the answer. ¡°The Book of Laws and Tradition, Chapter Ten, Section Seventeen, paragraph one. Also called the ¡®Decree of Culture¡¯.¡±


    He¡¯s knowingly breaking the law, she realized. This isn¡¯t mere scholar¡¯s curiosity.


    The Ceann nodded. ¡°Do you know who enforces the decree?¡±


    ¡°You, father, and the Tenth Commander¡¯s Everguard, at your discretion.¡±


    ¡°Good. I believe your business here is concluded. See yourselves out.¡± The Ceann of Tradition strode past them without another sideways glance.


    Galendria finally remembered how to breathe. Until she realized the direction that the Ceann was heading. Straight for the room with the robbed displays..


    ¡°How fast can you run?¡± Fenn whispered, pulling her toward the front door.


    ¡°Oh frosts,¡± was all the reply she managed before they burst out of the Culture Center and into the darkened streets of the city.

 Chapter 6: Escape

    In her purest form, Sabaed was god of neither Warcraft nor Night, but of Darkness and Disruption. Of the five original tribes, only her Night Elves are assigned no celestial body, for their matriarch was formed with none. And the darkness they love most is formed not by a body, but by the lack of one. In the deepest dungeons and darkest caves do they live, hidden from the lights of the heavens.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, 20th Anniversary Ed. UE 2362


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    ¡°Fennorin Willowbirth!¡± His father¡¯s voice echoed across the terrace as Fenn and Gale sped down the empty lanes of the city¡¯s upper ring. The Ceann had seen the empty displays amongst their nation¡¯s treasures. ¡°Guard, stop them! Stop Fennorin!¡±


    Fenn pulled Galendria between two buildings, clinging to its rough wall. Its jagged edges pressed into his back. She lied for me. He felt a touch of warmth in his racing heart. He¡¯d worry about why later.


    ¡°How are we going to get out of here?¡± she whispered as Fenn peeked around the corner. The guard stood in the middle of the bare stone path, head swiveling, then he dashed away toward the nearest guard post in the wall. No doubt he would alert a squad to start a search party.


    Fenn gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge to panic. That¡¯s going to make escaping extremely difficult. If it were just him, he might have surrendered, admitted his failure. But others were relying on him. ¡°If we can just get beneath the city to the caverns, I know the way out.¡±


    ¡°But how are we going to get there? That¡¯s in the complete opposite direction.¡±


    ¡°I have an idea.¡± Fenn turned his gaze on her, ¡°but I¡¯m going to need you not to panic.¡± She cocked her head, then nodded.


    Fenn reached one hand forward and swiftly went through a practiced series of gestures, aware that to Galendria, he must look ridiculous. ¡°Meallat lysrn,¡± he murmured.  His form shifted. His tunic stretched into long robes and his fluffed hair melted into long, dark tresses. Fenn cleared his throat and tried to speak in the deep voice of Belaer Silverstem, her father. ¡°How does it look?¡±


    Gale¡¯s expression of awe fell into a cringe.¡°You better not speak. It¡­ ruins the illusion.¡±


    Embarrassment forced him to grin.¡°Right.¡± The illusion changed his appearance, but his voice was still his own. ¡°Erm, it¡¯d be best if you stayed out of sight. I still need to get my other friend in.¡± Fenn chewed his lip. He needed her, a Silverstem, to open the gate. But I don¡¯t want her in more trouble. For a moment, the two desires warred inside him. Like the Great War that ended in Etnfrandia, there emerged a decisive winner. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d help me with that?¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Gale¡¯s face twisted into a smirk, ¡°Now you welcome my involvement?¡±


    No, not really. Fenn sighed. ¡°It¡¯s a little too late otherwise since you¡¯re already implicated.¡± He dared a peek around the corner to see the silhouettes of a squad rise to the wall, then looked back at her. She seemed small against the craggy slab that walled this building. Yet she appeared to be calm. His own heart was still racing, mostly in dread of what might happen to her and his other friends. ¡°Only, let¡¯s not get caught this time. The consequences would be far worse.¡±


    ¡°I have just the trick. Meet me at the Twin Gate.¡± With that, she uttered a spell of her own and vanished. Where she once stood, Fenn saw only the empty air behind her.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± he whispered to the air. Is she even there?


    ¡°Thanks,¡± she hissed from behind him.


    He jumped. ¡°Right, see you at the gate.¡± If she was still there, she didn¡¯t respond. He walked out of the shadows into the streets, straight and dignified in imitation of Ceann Silverstem.


    As he strode through the smaller streets, backtracking toward the caverns, he shoved down thoughts of Mell and Syrdin, of whether they had made it out of the caverns yet, and of Galendria. How she had come by her magic abilities. It wasn¡¯t allowed. He tried to focus. Focus on the task at hand, not how the events of the evening contradicted everything he had believed about his country. How his father had placed an alarm spell.


    Focus.  He rounded a building snarled with vines and spotted guards standing at the great oak door in the bastion from which he¡¯d led the others earlier. The alarm had spread, and the way was guarded. Please have let Syrdin and Mell escape safely.


    Fenn started to turn. There was no way they would let anyone down into the caverns now. Well, perhaps a Ceann, but not without Fenn having to speak.


    ¡°Ceann Silverstem!¡± a guard called out from atop the wall.


    In a stab of panic, Fenn recognized the voice as his step-brother¡¯s, his mother¡¯s step-son. No, Fenn shook himself, that¡¯s a human distinction. My brother. Whatever their relation, he knew Fenn. Any familiar gesture or hint of his own voice would betray him.


    Dysren beckoned him over. ¡°Please, sir.¡±


    Oh no. Oh gods, no. Fenn steadied his breath and assumed the posture of a worried father, wringing his hands and furrowing his brows. He forced his face upward toward his brother and stepped forward. Please let my appearance be enough.


    ¡°Has the situation been explained, Ceann?¡± Dysren asked with his head lowered further than necessary to look down the wall at Fenn. It was a gesture of respect he was not accustomed to receiving.


    Fenn nodded, slow and dignified. He tried to hold still, waiting for Dysren to continue. They¡¯re eyes locked, and Fenn forced himself not to avert his gaze. He set his jaw and refused to fidget.


    Dysren did not continue, waiting for Fenn¨Cwell, the Ceann¨Cto speak first. Please, Boidhan, Cialmara, any of you, please don¡¯t let it end here. Fenn swallowed hard and choked out a hoarse whisper. ¡°My daughter,¡± he prayed the hoarseness would disguise his voice, ¡°is there news of her yet?¡±


    ¡°No, Ceann,¡± Dysren stared at the ground as if embarrassed by the supposed Ceann¡¯s show of emotion. Or perhaps by the lack of news. ¡°Nothing yet.¡±


    It worked?! Fenn nodded slightly and waved his hand like he¡¯d seen Belaer do so many times. He turned to go. He would not test the limits of this mercy.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, Ceann,¡± Dysren spoke quickly, then stopped, ¡°if I may?¡±


    Fenn nodded, still half-turned away. His feet itched to flee.


    ¡°My brother, Fennorin¡ª I am confident he means no harm to anyone. Especially not to your daughter. Fenn¡­ well¡­ he is odd, but I don¡¯t believe he would put her in danger, not even her honor. Or, not on purpose.¡±


    Fenn¡¯s eyes watered. He and Dysren weren¡¯t close by any means. They were on good terms, but they¡¯d become brothers through a marriage that occurred while Fenn was away and had only known each other for a brief six years. It warmed Fenn that this step-brother would speak up to a Ceann on his behalf, and to no benefit of his own. Are there people I could have trusted?


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Fenn croaked, barely remembering not to nod, not bow, as he walked away.


    He stepped quickly, trying to remain graceful and noble as he neared a trot. His brother was correct. Fenn had never wanted to get Gale mixed in this. And he did not want to bring harm to anyone. Reconnecting with their history and the pantheon should make their people stronger. It should lead them to rediscover the powerful magic that allowed them to create their nation in the first place.


    He hoped Gale would go back to her father after she opened the gate. She could report Fenn and call off the matroniage. Her reputation wouldn¡¯t go untarnished, but it would do much to save face. It was not like they had any emotional bond. Not beyond a dusty friendship.


    Another guard tried to approach him as he passed from the upper circle to the middle, but Fenn waved his hand to deter her and walked on. His feet carried him swiftly through the familiar streets of his childhood. The lowest circle had more hewn homes than the other tiers. Sometime in the last millennia, Etnfrandians had become less concerned with natural appearances. He passed these and their lower gate. Some homes had even cropped up outside the lower city wall, dotting the slope between clusters of trees.


    By the time he¡¯d left the last homes behind and reached the Twin Gate, the Western Wanderer had crested his cosmic path and turned his staff back toward the earth. The sheen of the barrier gleamed softly against the sky between the Twin Trees. No guards stood at the gate. Unusual. He trotted down the earthen path, recalling his own long nights stationed there over a century ago.


    ¡°Gale?¡± Fenn called out to the darkness.


    ¡°Over here.¡± The voice came from beside the operating tree.


    Fenn breathed a sigh of relief. We just might pull off this escape.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    She¡¯d set the guards chasing after her disembodied voice. Now Fenn needed to show up quickly or they might return before he could fetch his protection. A familiar silhouette trotted down the packed-earth path, ceremonial robes swishing. Her father, but his gate was wrong. Gale held her breath, waiting to hear Fenn¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Gale?¡±


    She smiled at the oddity of hearing Fenn¡¯s high, stilted voice come out of that regal face. ¡°Over here.¡± She kept her voice low, just in case.


    The illusion of her father melted off him like wax dripping off a candle, then dissipated. ¡°Thank the gods.¡± He started walking towards her.


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    The gods? Gale shook off the oddity of the magic, and the phrase. Surely Fenn is not religious now. ¡±Go get your friend, quickly!¡± She waved him down the path. ¡°The guards will come back soon.¡± She could worry about his new oddities later.


    Fear crossed his face. ¡°Right!¡± he squeaked and sped away.


    Cute. He hadn¡¯t changed all that much since their youthful days running around in the forest. Never practical, but always quick to act on a good idea. Gale took up her post at the tree. She grabbed her sigil in her hand and pressed it into the keyhole, studying the enchanted ring of runes beneath. When Fenn returned, she¡¯d place her hand in the center and activate the magic. She had tried, for her father¡¯s sake, to understand the enchantment with no success. Fenn had gained much knowledge in the study of magical items. Perhaps he could make sense of these runes. She had never thought, nor dared, to ask before.


    Maybe, once we come back. She furrowed her brow, unable to recall when she had decided to go with him. Well, I don¡¯t want him to leave me behind. She sighed. The Great Moon hung low in the sky and was beginning to take on a yellow hue. It had been a long night, and waiting only made it seem longer. Likely only a few minutes had passed since Fenn had left. She heard a sudden clanging in the forest coming from the other side of the barrier.


    Gale choked on her breath.


    There was Fenn, dashing toward the path, but he was being chased by a snarly, blue monster.


    It was scaly, and though it was only slightly taller than Fenn, its hulking torso, curved back, and too-long arms loomed much larger. It stalked him from its hind legs, which were bent awkwardly like a four-legged creature¡¯s. Several horn-like spines protruded from its head. The clanging, she realized as it approached, emanated from a huge sack slung over its shoulder. Thankfully, it wore brown breeches that went past its knees¨Cif you could call those knees. What in the deep earth and broad skies?


    Fenn didn¡¯t seem alarmed as he ran. Her mouth dropped open. No.


    This is Fenn¡¯s friend. She gathered her dignity and opened the gate. Be open-minded.


    They ran past her, away from the path. She rounded the twin tree, unable to peel her gaze from the strange creature. She followed them a safe distance from the gate to a cluster of spruce trees. What language does this creature speak? It must speak, right?


    Fenn turned to her and started speaking in Allspeech. ¡°Ah, Galendria, this is Kridarnn, a good friend of mine from Brikhvarnn. Erm. Krid¨C¡± Fenn turned to the giant lizard-man and seemed to lose his confidence, stumbling on his introductions ``...this is¡­ well, this is my¨C¡±


    Cree-darn? Her father¡¯s training had helped her before with Mell. It did not fail her now. Galendria put on her most winsome smile. ¡°¡ªBetrothed, I¡¯m his betrothed, Galendria. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance.¡± Was that right, Atti? She bowed in the polite way one did when unsure of the other¡¯s status relative to their own.


    The creature reached a fist across his bare, white chest in a salute-like gesture, then hesitated and copied her movement. ¡°Same to you, miss. And thanks for opening the gate.¡± His voice was throaty, but otherwise not noticeably different from any other humanoid.


    She hid her surprise in a smile. ¡°A breeze¡¯s bliss.¡±


    He blinked, an unnerving movement of transparent lids across his eyes at an angle. She suppressed a shutter. Atti, you did not prepare me for that.


    Fenn scratched at his ear where his glasses rested¨Ca sign he felt unsure. ¡°She means she was happy to do it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right then,¡± Kridarnn¡¯s smile exposed pointed teeth.


    She tried to match his expression. He¡¯s terrifying. ¡°So, Fenn, what are we doing next?¡±


    ¡°We?¡± He hesitated. ¡°I guess now I¡¯ll take Krid to the passage between the realms, and then I¡¯ll try to find the others.¡±


    As he spoke, Gale spotted two shadows charging out from the treeline further up the ridge. ¡°I think I can help with that, too.¡± She pointed.


    Krid sniffed the air loudly. ¡°More friends of yours?¡±


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    ¡°Fenn?¡± Mell¡¯s voice called from behind.


    ¡°Shush! Of course it¡¯s Fenn!¡± Syrdin snapped back, breathless. ¡°And he¡¯s got Galendria and the warrior with him.¡± Zhe and Mell were still running. This part of the mountain had only clumps of trees, and zhe could see clearly in the last light of the Great Moon.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± Fenn hurried over to meet them.


    ¡°We were spotted from a distance coming out of the city,¡± Syrdin explained swiftly, ¡°and I¡¯m pretty sure we¡¯ll have a squadron sweeping the area within minutes. ¡°Wherever the Wildlands are from here, we need to get there fast.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your help,¡± Fenn stopped in front of them. ¡°If you wish to unload the haul here, I can pay you out so you can escape without anyone knowing you were here.¡±


    Syrdin clutched the satchel¡¯s strap. This was zheir chance to find the Door. ¡°There¡¯s no time. I¡¯ll follow you there. Now move!¡±


    Fenn took a few running steps toward the woods, then spun around to face Galendria. ¡°Gale, you¡¯d better go back to your father. You must know by now that involving yourself further will only bring you harm.¡±


    Zhe watched as the she-elf marched forward and grabbed Fenn¡¯s sleeve as she passed him. She tugged him forward, and then turned her face to him when he resisted, her eyes as piercing as eagle talons. ¡°Come on, you heard Syrdin, the Everguard will be here any minute.¡±


    Syrdin rolled zheir eyes. The tenacity zhe could admire, but surely the stubbornness was misdirected. The little flower princess would come to regret this later. That didn¡¯t matter now. The Everguard was approaching.


    As if on cue, specks of torchlight flickered in the distant treeline.


    ¡°Time to go!¡± Zhe hissed.


    Fenn didn¡¯t put up any more of a fight. They went, fleeing as quickly and quietly as they could.


    They were neither of those things. By the time they reached the woods, Mell had started to fall behind, gasping and stumbling. Syrdin reached to pull her along, but the massive drakeman came up from behind and pushed Mell onward, almost carrying her. Finally someone capable around here.


    They skirted around the guards, passing just South of the direction zhe and Mell had come from, very near the Everguard unit. If Fenn would have just clarified the location before, I could have led them further away.


    The drakeman snapped a log under his foot. Fenn glanced back at him. Alerted, the Everguard closed in. Syrdin could hear their footsteps¡ªcould see their armor glinting through the trees.


    A guard shouted for the lights to go out and darkness consumed the woods. Syrdin smiled. This gave zhem the advantage. One guard closed in behind them and another ran alongside.


    ¡°Syrdin!¡± Mell called as the rear pursuer grew too close.


    Zhe was already on it. Zhe leapt up in the air, bounced off a tree, and rammed into the Etnfrandian guard on their tail. She let out a guttural grunt and clattered to the ground, rolling stunned down the hill, likely with a broken rib or two. Syrdin sprinted back toward the group.


    They¡¯d covered a lot of ground, but they were slow. Too slow. That Door better be nearby. The guard on the side came crashing through the trees. Syrdin charged forward, unsheathing zheir dagger for a killing¡ªno, not killing. In zheir moment of hesitation, the guard dashed around Syrdin and toward Galendria.


    ¡°Gale!¡± Fenn called out, beginning to turn from his place at the front.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Syrdin answered.


    The guard lowered his stance for a tackle a couple of strides from his target.


    ¡°Grubby hands off, you raggabrash!¡± Galendria¡¯s explosive cry surprised both Syrdin and the guard. There was a flash of light, and for an instant, little spears formed a misty ring around the she-elf¡¯s head.


    More magic?


    Whatever it was, it failed its purpose. The guard tumbled and fell into Galendria, bringing them both down. He reached for his blade.


    Syrdin pounced on him first. Zhe knocked the weapon out of the elfman¡¯s hands and stooped on his chest plate.


    The others slowed, ready to help. ¡°GO!¡± Syrdin yelled. These people are idiots.


    All four obeyed, thank the shadows. The guard attempted to roll out from under Sydrin, but zhe stood firm. Zhe rammed the blunt end of zheir dagger into the guard¡¯s helmet. It let out an unholy clang and bent beneath zheir hilt. The guard lay there dazed. Syrdin huffed. Zhe really wasn¡¯t getting paid enough for this.


    Zhe dashed after zheir companions, or rather straight into them. Zhe skidded to a halt. Three guards had rounded in front of them and cut them off.


    Fenn stepped forward. ¡°Move aside. Please. We must pass.¡±


    To his credit, he spoke with a tone of authority¡ªfor once.


    ¡°We are under orders to arrest you. Surrender yourselves now.¡± With a readied stance, the central guard seemed more capable than the others. Syrdin prepared to leap on her.


    Fenn took another step forward, hands raised. The frontmost guard¡¯s sword was pointed straight at his chest.


    What is he doing?


    ¡°Fenn, don¡¯t¨C¡± Mell started to protest. Fenn grabbed the sword.


    Sparks of light shot up the blade into the guard¡¯s arm. She jolted and twitched, then stepped back, a surprised pain twisting her face. The guard on the left raised his weapon. Oh no. Syrdin stepped forward, pulling a black stone from zheir belt. Fenn lifted his arm as though it were a shield. Fool! Syrdin crushed the stone in zheir hand. The sword sliced Fenn¡¯s forearm. Fenn yelled. Galendria screamed. Syrdin threw the dust on zheir dagger.


    ¡°Timnar.¡± A void swirled out and consumed them in an instant.


    ¡°What happened?¡± There was one guard.


    ¡°Where¡¯d they go?¡± Another.


    ¡°Fenn!¡± That was Galendria¡¯s voice.


    Not even Syrdin could see in this darkness. Zhe grabbed the huge lizard¡¯s arm first, trusting him to recognize zheir size and smell. Next, Fenn. Zhe dashed to his side and covered his mouth, whispering, ¡°It¡¯s me, we have to keep moving.¡± Galendria was by his side. Convenient. Zhe pushed Fenn and his lady forward, still grasping the lizard, who held Mell. The darkness followed Syrdin, whisping out from the blade of zheir dagger.


    Guards gasped and yelled around them, but they kept moving in silence. The sound of a sword swinging rushed in the darkness, but it met no mark.


    ¡°I¡¯m out. The dark is not very expansive!¡± One guard called from a short distance away.


    The troupe of five kept moving. A whistling warned zhem of an arrow overhead. Syrdin ducked, pulling the others down.


    ¡°How much farther?¡± zhe whispered to Fenn. His breath sounded shakier by the minute. He was unused to intense pain.


    He stopped, stooped to the ground, and crawled forward a few feet.


    Another couple arrows rushed around them. ¡°Now¡¯s not the time to give up, man!¡± zhe hissed.


    ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±


    No one could see what exactly he did, but a sliver of golden light scarred the void in front of them, then stretched, and in an instant, they were somewhere else. The air stank of sunshine and earth. Syrdin sheathed zheir dagger, and the group blinked in the light of an unfamiliar world.

 Chapter 7: The Fae Forest

    And so it has remained for two millennia: the Doors were shut, sealed tightly that none could pass through, not from the Trueplane, and not from the Fae, and their locations were lost to time and memory.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell stumbled through the bright fissure into more darkness. The drakeman¡¯s claws dug into her shoulders, then let go. She collapsed onto a soft ground, coughing. Her legs burned and trembled under her. The air was thick and warm here, and she thought she might choke on it as she gasped for air.


    Clink. She heard the familiar sound of Syrdin sheathing zheir dagger.


    Sudden, bright-white sunlight stung Mell¡¯s eyes. Her breath caught as she blinked away tears.


    Wide trees squatted around them with their thick roots sunken into ruddy earth. Scattered among those, thin and towering trees formed a second canopy of flat tops that broke a purple sky. In the nearer canopy, broad, fern-like leaves tickled each other with blue leaflets. A luscious breeze set them laughing and whispering, spilling to each other the secrets of the Fae. A flock of scaley birds flitted between low branches, as if chasing their whispered counsel. If she stood and reached, Mell thought she might be able to touch one.


    She wanted to touch everything: to look under the leaves for spores, to test the strength of branches, to feel the soil.


    Fenn let out a ragged cry and fell to his knees, shattering her moment of wonder. His arm was still bleeding from where the Everguard had stuck him. Exploration and study could wait. Mell crawled next to him and placed her hand on his wrist. ¡°Leygheas.¡± Her circlet glowed and she felt warmth and light spread through her hand into Fenn¡¯s arm as the wound closed before their eyes, leaving behind mere blood stains on his sleeve.


    The drakeman stood beside Mell, facing the spot where they had just crossed the realms. He glanced down at what was now a long, clean scab on Fenn¡¯s arm. ¡°I have to say, that¡¯s an impressive skill, master clergywoman.¡± He seemed barely out of breath. Not fair. ¡°Is he well enough to travel? We had best move on before they follow us here.¡±


    Galendria gasped. ¡°Is that possible?¡± She, who had been staring into the trees with eyes rounder than a globe, now set her haunted look on Fenn.


    ¡°Erm,¡± Fenn seemed to shake himself, like one might shake off a bad dream in the morning, ¡°well considering they neither knew about the Door nor have any knowledge of how to see it, or cross it, I doubt it.¡±


    Syrdin crossed zheir arms. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to take chances.¡±


    ¡°Then we should move on.¡± The drakeman plucked Fenn off the ground by his shirt, then pulled it down to straighten out the wrinkles. ¡°There you are, newt,¡± he patted Fenn¡¯s back with a heavy hand, ¡°so lead us on. And I wouldn¡¯t mind a few words on the dangers we¡¯ll be facing.¡±


    Newt? Mell could hardly believe it, but Fenn took the rough treatment in stride.¡±Right. Well, follow me then. I¡¯ve got a camp prepared not far from here.¡±


    She hauled herself upright, out of the soft, red earth. Her old bones groaned at the effort. Middle-aged, she corrected herself in her mind. Not old, yet.


    The forest seemed to stare at her. Blades of grass as thick as fingers tickled at her calves in the snaking, sunlit patches where they grew. An ugly croak jolted her into action. She hurried after Fenn, eyeing the strange scaled bird that had produced the sound. It turned its head to meet her gaze with one beady eye. This one had a pale pink body and its whip-like tail curled around a branch, the white feathers on the end giving the illusion of a mace. Its upper beak overhung its lower, and Mell could see needle-like teeth poking out. She shivered. Even if the whole bird was shorter than one of her arms, she¡¯d still hate to be on the receiving end of those teeth.


    ¡°It¡¯s not particularly dangerous immediately surrounding the Door.¡± Fenn took the tone of the professor he had once been for this lecture. ¡°I suspect that has to do with the primordial energy escaping from the Trueplane, as we call it. Most creatures here are subconsciously driven away by it. For some reason, the clebshoths don¡¯t seem to mind¨Cthat¡¯s the birds. They don¡¯t seem to mind much of anything. I haven¡¯t dared to wander far by myself, but I have seen evidence of some panthrae, as well as some large, bipedal birds, a few rodent-like creatures, and swarms of bugs innumerable.¡±


    Right on cue, Mell heard a buzzing by her ear. Two eyes gazed at her from a tree trunk, vibrating. She jumped back, and the two eyes took off on the back of a beetle the size of her hand. Just as she tried to calm herself, a clebshoth swooped down and snapped it up with a sickly crunch. By Lorthen! This place is brutal. She tried to push away images of much larger birds snatching her up like that. Fenn was speaking loudly, for the group to hear. Clearly, he was confident in their current safety. Still, with the invisible ¡°Door¡± just behind them and eyes glittering at her from the shadows, she felt he should be more cautious.


    ¡°I even saw some form of deer, once,¡± he was saying. ¡°As for what dangers we might face further from the breach, well that would likely be creatures of mythos. Centaurs, dryads, dragons and other dinosaurs, leviathans, treants, fauns,¡± he took a breath, ¡°nymphs, pixies, sprites, and¨Cwell this isn¡¯t really an extensive list. These are just the creatures that I can think of now.¡±


    Those were things Mell knew of. Those were the things she expected. The whispering of the leaves, the hum of insects, the glittering eyes, the overly-bright sun, the finger-like grass, those were the things she was not prepared for. It was so bizarre and otherworldly that she felt she was in a dream, one dancing on the line between a daydream and a nightmare. Only, if it were a dream, her muscles would have forgotten the long run across Etnfrandia.


    Some brown tendrils of grass seemed to follow her as she walked. A clebshoth¡ªa vibrant yellow one¨Clanded nearby and these tendrils whisked away, disappearing into the grass¡¯s roots. Mell blinked. What in the Five Realms?


    ¡°The camp is decently stocked. Well-stocked for three, but¨Cerm¨Canyway. I only have two tents. I knew Krid would bring his own. But we are here. See? It really isn¡¯t far.¡±


    A tiny, brown creature with blue stripes scampered into a clearing ahead of them, long antennae-like ears towering into the top of the grass as it disappeared on the other side. That was the brown grass!


    The clearing was small, perhaps eight meters across, and had two tents in a style she recognized only from the one pitched in front of Fenn¡¯s cabin. The richly-dyed fabric that lined them, she knew well, and not merely from the clothes on Fenn¡¯s back. Woven from the hair of an Everglow mountain goat, it was light and warm, a highly sought export. Right now, sweating under the rays of a foreign sun, she hoped it breathed.


    At the center of the ¡°camp,¡± a small, clay travel stove sat by a pile of wood¨Cclearly pine from Etnfrandia. A few cushions were placed around it. Some small barrels and boxes were scattered near the tents, as well as a few trunks.


    As soon as Mell laid eyes on one of those cushions, other thoughts fled her. Her aching limbs carried her to one, and she collapsed onto it.


    ¡°Are you sure we should rest so near the Door? Those guards could easily follow us here.¡± Syrdin stood at the edge of the clearing, cowl turning slowly as zhe surveyed it.


    Fenn scratched under the arm of his glasses. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want to run off into the forest without any supplies. If it comes to it, you had better try and escape on your own. Krid, you too. The rest of us would be better off surrendering ourselves than trying to escape.¡±


    Creed? Was that the drakeman¡¯s name?


    He lowered his snout from the air, huffed a sort-of sneeze, and rubbed it. ¡°Sounds reasonable to me. In that case, some rest to regain our strength would be the best course of action.¡± He lumbered over to the cushions where Mell sat. ¡°Say, Holy Cleric, the healing you did. Do others in your brotherhood do the same? It is very impressive.¡±


    Mell smiled. ¡°Thank you.¡± She propped herself up by her hands, which sank a little into the ground, ¡°But yes, it¡¯s a skill we¡¯re trained to master pretty early on. Even the Dalthens¨Cum, novices learn it.¡± She brushed a dirt-crusted hand on her robe and offered it to him. ¡°I am Mellark, Scholar-Savant of the order of Lorthen.¡±


    The drakeman smiled back. He had an exceptionally broad snout such that the expression seemed to split his face. He reached down and grasped her hand in his cold claws with a contrasting warmth of greeting. ¡°Kridarnn, Captain of the Twelfth Scout Guard of Brikhvarnn, but you can call me Krid.¡±


    Mell nodded. ¡°Nice to meet you. You can call me Mell.¡±


    Galendria sat down with Mell. She still seemed pale, but she held her back straight, as though held by a rod, and she had a small smile painted on her face. Dark circles were forming under her eyes. Keeping up appearances, poor child.


    The drakeman looked to Fenn, who approached with a cloth sack in his hands produced from one of his boxes. ¡°So, brighthead, now that you¡¯re feeling better, who¡¯s your other friend?¡± He nodded toward Syrdin, who still stood near where they had entered the clearing, hood swiveling as zhe kept a lookout.


    Fenn took it as a cue to introduce everyone. ¡°Oh, right.¡± He straightened and cleared his throat, no doubt trying to be a leader and a host.  ¡°So, everyone, erm, this is Krid, we met on one of my less successful quests for information on the Faeworld, though the historical yield was plentiful.¡± He gestured to the drakeman. ¡°We¡¯ve become great friends over the years. He¡¯s a Scout Captain for the Brikhvarnni military.¡±


    He shifted his gesture to Mell. ¡°I think you¡¯ve all met Mell, my friend from the University. She curated the library there for some fifteen years of my career.¡±


    Mell waved her hand to everyone, though she had met them all at this point. Fenn moved his gaze over to Galendria. She was staring at Syrdin like one would stare at the drunk uncle at a family reunion, the one who had tried to steal the entire inheritance two years ago, but still had the gall to show up. That is, with a deep sense of annoyance and mistrust..


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    Fenn gestured to Gale, and he took a steadying breath. Poor fellow, he tried to keep her from coming. ¡°This is Galendria Silverstem, Fyr-Ceann of Etnfrandia and a masterful musician. She¡¯s graciously been my betrothed since the first snow this past winter.¡± He hesitated. ¡°Mell, would you care to introduce Syrdin?¡±


    ¡°Sure, that is Syrdin,¡± Mell waved a hand in the direction of her companion, ¡°zhe has been a most loyal and skillful travel guide and companion to me on my journey here. And I believe we all owe zhem our gratitude for a successful escape.¡± She was referring to the darkness that had escorted them the final distance to the rift, though Mell had not known Syrdin to possess the ability. After months of travel, Syrdin still manages to surprise me.


    Fenn raised his brows and cocked his head. Had he not realized that was not my magic?


    ¡°An impressive skill, yes!¡± Krid pumped a tight fist into the air.


    From zheir place a few paces away, Syrdin acknowledged the cheer with a small flick of one gloved hand, not even shifting zheir gaze off the forest.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Fenn was quick to affirm. ¡°I¡¯m deathly curious what kind of magic that was, if you don¡¯t mind revealing it. And I¡¯ll surely add any extra pay you require before you go on your way.¡±


    Mell gritted her teeth. Syrdin did not like to be asked about zheir abilities, or history, or motives. Not anything personal, really.


    Syrdin turned. ¡°My magic is my own,¡± zhe replied, arms crossed, ¡°and I¡¯m not planning to leave. Not that I could with the Everguard crawling around the Door. Not for a while, at least.¡± There was a growl to zheir voice, an impatience.


    Fenn blinked, taken aback. ¡°Not leaving? You were hired to help us retrieve the artifacts, not to accompany us to the Wildlands. Surely someone like you could sneak away, once things settle down.¡±


    Mell couldn''t help but notice he referred to the place by its Elven name when he spoke to zhem. It finally clicked in her mind. For them, this wasn¡¯t the Fae, a land of mythos, but the Wildlands, their origins.


    ¡°And now you couldn¡¯t pay me to leave,¡± zhe said. ¡°I¡¯ll take my artifact when you are ready. Mell already settled the rest. But from here on I have business in the Faeworld, same as you. I¡¯ll be happy to accompany you, free of charge.¡±


    Mell¡¯s mouth dropped open. Zhe never told me that. She was accustomed to Syrdin¡¯s abrasive behavior, but this was different. A self-insertion. Syrdin had at times shown interest in the Faerie gods, often engaging Mell in conversation about them. What is zheir goal?


    ¡°Who agreed to allow you along?¡± Galendria interjected, chin aloft. ¡°I failed to hear it.¡±


    ¡°I think the same could be said to you, miss flower,¡± Syrdin retorted.


    Galendria huffed. ¡°Considering my betrothed organized¨C¡±


    ¡°Your betrothed asked you to stay behind. You shouldn¡¯t be here.¡±


    ¡°Galend¨C¡± Fenn¡¯s soft attempt to cut in was ignored.


    ¡°Only out of concern for my safety.¡±


    An old chink in Mell¡¯s neck started to ache again from the rapid swiveling of her neck between the two.


    ¡°If you say so, your majesty.¡± Syrdin leaned into the words, a smirk in zheir voice. ¡°But you¡¯ve made yourself a burden, whereas I am useful in the world outside your little sheltered kingdom.¡±


    Galendria¡¯s mouth snapped shut. ¡°At least I have manners,¡± she mumbled.


    ¡°Please,¡± Fenn waved his hands, finally gathering their attention, ¡°don¡¯t argue. This is a dangerous place, and Syrdin did just save our skins back there. If zhe has business here, we¡¯ll hear zhem out before we decide anything. And Galendria, after some rest, you really should go home to your father.¡±


    Mell squinted. Go home? Doesn¡¯t he realize¨C?


    Galendria flinched. ¡°I have business here as well.¡±


    ¡°What? Galendria!¡± Fenn protested. ¡°You do not!¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± she stood, walked up to him, and pointed a finger straight at his chest, ¡°it¡¯s you.¡± She must have burned the words into him with her eyes, because the moment hung meaningfully in the air before she stomped past his shoulder, marching for the edge of camp.


    ¡°Galendria.¡± Fenn called after her softly.


    ¡°What?!¡± She swirled her head, pausing.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go far?¡±


    She clenched her jaw and raised her head, plucking her way over to a knotted root just outside the clearing. Mell could just see the green of her skirt through the rather blue foliage, though the squalling protest of a disturbed insect pinpointed her location anyway.


    That was rough. Mell turned toward Fenn, who stood gazing after Galendria, mystery sack forgotten in his hand. She felt pained for them. No kind of relationship was more difficult than a romantic one, and she was beginning to doubt that there was any romance involved here at all¨Cnot on Fenn¡¯s side, at least.


    Fenn sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He paused to look at his torn and bloodied sleeve, then back at Galendria. Mell could see the worry written in the creases of his brow. She lifted a hand. She wanted to ask. There seemed to be some kind of complication between them. More than an arranged marriage would merit.


    ¡°So, I guess congratulations are in order for your betrothal.¡± Krid came over and ruffled the hair Fenn had just fluffed. ¡°I wish you¡¯d said something in one of your letters! I don¡¯t have an appropriate gift!¡±


    Mell cringed. Hopefully, what Krid lacked in social cues he would make up for in a fight.


    ¡°Partnerships don¡¯t work that way in Etnfrandia.¡± Fenn pushed away his friend¡¯s hand. ¡°They¡¯re arranged, and all the man can do is affirm the betrothal, or deny it.¡± He hushed his voice, glancing toward Gale. ¡°In my case, denial wasn¡¯t an option. A gift would hardly be appropriate.¡±


    Krid grabbed him around the shoulders and forced him to look in the direction of the sulking Galendria, lost to their view. ¡°But why would you say no? She seems like a strong, lovely mate to me!¡±


    Mell closed her eyes. Mate? Seriously? While Fenn did not seem disturbed by the terminology, it still seemed insensitive .


    Fenn chewed his lip at the ground. He continued in a soft whisper. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly suitable. And she¨Cwell, it¡¯s hard to explain if you don¡¯t know our culture.¡±


    Mell leaned forward and spoke gently. ¡°Please try. I want to understand, too.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°It¡¯s as I¡¯ve told Mell before, I am essentially a disgraced noble. A Skill-less One, if you will, Krid. I couldn¡¯t¨Cwhat would your people say?¨C grow a family to health, even if I wanted to. But when Galendria initiated our pairing¨Cand not for the common kind of marriage mind you, but a contract for a family¨Cwell my father threatened to take away my cabin refuge if I did not comply.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± Mell shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re telling me that a marriage and a familial contract, those are different things?¡±


    ¡°Yes, one for child rearing, and we also have another for permanent union.¡±


    Krid¡¯s throat grumbled thoughtfully. ¡°So, you don¡¯t marry your mates?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes.¡± Fenn rubbed under the bridge of his glasses.¡°Galendria¡¯s parents are married. Mine aren¡¯t. My mother is married to a dancer.¡±


    Mell snorted. ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame her there.¡± That was probably an insensitive thing to say. She of all people ought to be sensitive to this topic. She understood what it was like to be trapped in a relationship that impeded her priorities, one no longer motivated by any mutual love. It had been the same for her after she had sworn fealty to Lorthen. But for Fenn, the problem hadn¡¯t packed up the family and headed for a new town, leaving him behind with a mix of relief and guilt. No, his beautiful little problem chased him into the Faeworld.


    Krid removed his arm from around Fenn and he scratched his beard-like spines in consideration of the concept.


    In a culture that esteemed art above all other accomplishments, it did seem strange to eschew love within the family. Mell had believed art was inherently romantic and emotional; that was one reason she¡¯d never taken it seriously as a topic of study. Could it be their longevity? I didn¡¯t stay married for seven years; I can¡¯t imagine 700.


    Krid finally shook his head. ¡°Makes no sense at all to me. You should just marry her privately if you love her.¡±


    Mell glared up at Krid. Drakeman skulls must be exceptionally thick.


    Fenn had turned a concerning shade of blue. ¡®I¨Cth¨Cno¨Cerm¨C¡± he opened and closed his mouth a few more times while the waiting drakeman crossed his arms. ¡°It¡¯s just, we barely know each other. For six-or-so years since my return, I¡¯ve only seen her at festivals and such, and¨C¡±


    ¡°Six years!¡± Krid¡¯s frustration was expressed in an exaggerated throwing of his arms. ¡°That¡¯s a long time!¡±


    ¡°Not really, and we¡¯d never spoken on matters of im¡ª¡±


    A shriek tore through the air. Gale sped back through the trees, careening toward them. Krid brandished a long, scarred sword and charged past her as she joined Fenn and Mell. Fenn pulled out a miniature crossbow of his own. ¡°What is it? What¡¯s wrong?¡± he grabbed her arm, staring past her.


    Mell didn¡¯t remember climbing to her feet, but she was on them now. She peered at the treeline where Krid stood at the ready. Syrdin dropped out of a tree right by the drakeman, and he spun on zhem.


    ¡°I¨Ci-it just jumped out of the grass! From nowhere!¡± Galendria¡¯s skin had turned pale under its bronze complexion.


    ¡°What did you see? Are we in danger?¡± Fenn was bent toward her, eyes flashing back and forth between her and the woods.


    She opened her mouth, then suddenly turned very red and closed it. For a moment, Mell thought she must have been bitten or stung by something uniquely poisonous with the way her face flushed.


    ¡°Probably not. I¡¯m now realizing it was fairly small. And I¡¯ve just frightened you all very much.¡± She shrank down into herself.


    ¡°What did you see, Gale?¡± Fenn repeated, voice gentle, but his hand was still closed around her arm. ¡°I¡¯ll know if it was dangerous.¡±


    She looked at the ground, very coylike. ¡°It was red-brown, like the dirt, and about the size of a fox or a groundhog, and it sort-of leapt from the ground right by my feet in a big arc.¡± She turned her eyes up now, taking a pleading look. ¡°I mean, right by my feet. It practically jumped across my lap.¡±


    That would jump-scare me, too, in a place like this.


    ¡°Oh, the dirt-divers.¡± Fenn released his hand and patted her shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, those won¡¯t hurt you.¡±


    Mell closed her eyes and breathed out. No danger. When she opened them, Syrdin was saying something to the drakeman, who then sheathed his sword. They all turned back to Fenn. He met their expectant gaze with an absent stare, mind elsewhere.


    Mell cleared her throat.


    ¡°Oh erm, that¡¯s a creature sort-of like a mole. It¡¯s not dangerous at all. I¡¯ve seen a few of them. They¡¯re almost cute if you manage a good look at one. They seem to swim through dirt the way fish swim in water, and sometimes they jump up for air. There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    Fenn finally remembered the burgundy sack hanging from his hand. He lifted it up and pulled out a round loaf of dense, brown bread. Barley bread. ¡°Why don¡¯t we all have a bit to eat, and then call it a night?¡±

 Chapter 8: Pitch a Tent

    And Anruwan¡¯s lands stretched far and wide, and they were in terrible need of care. Thus, like his father before him, he began to create. From the glistening sweat of his sun-bronzed skin, he shaped a people to fill the lands. And these were called Sun Elves.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    Syrdin peered through the trees, chewing a thick, flakey loaf of bread. Zhe met the gaze of a pointy-eared creature that huddled behind a blue fern, glossy eyes unblinking at the top of its head. It was no larger than a fox. Zhe hoped it was as skittish as one.


    This place and its strange colors and bright sun felt wrong. Not to mention zheir connection to Ath-togail seemed distant. Perhaps she had trouble reaching this place, or perhaps she was hiding. As long as it did not interfere with Syrdin¡¯s spellcasting, it would not interfere with zheir mission.


    ¡°So, what time of day is it here?¡± Mell yawned from her cushion near the camp¡¯s center. ¡°Because I find it hard to sleep while the sun is out.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to say. It never gets dark here, so now is as good a time to sleep as any. I was working on a modified sundial to¨C¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t get dark?¡± Mell¡¯s voice shimmered with curiosity. ¡°Are we near a pole?¡±


    ¡°Not that I¡¯ve determined. Actually, in my observations, the relative positions of the celestial bodies¡­¡± Fenn¡¯s voice grew rapid as he spoke of things that did not interest Syrdin.


    Zhe ducked behind the trees to check the perimeter of the camp again. The grass was tall, brushing zheir leggings just beneath zheir knees. The underbrush stretched just above the grass with broad leaves. It would be hard for a creature of especially dangerous size to hide anywhere but in the trees themselves. Not that the little pointy-eared critters couldn¡¯t be dangerous, but¡­ it zipped away in a blur of shadow.


    Zhe hopped up into the broad, twisting branches, leaping between bows until zheir head poked above the lower canopy. Above them, some shoth squabbled over a swarm of fluorescent bugs while larger, more feathered varieties clung to the higher canopy. Nothing dangerous in sight. Nothing¡­remarkably dangerous, anyway.


    ¡°It is time we assigned watches¡± zhe could hear the Captain interrupt Fenn below.


    Syrdin moved to leap down, but zheir glove pulled against zhem, stuck to the tree as though glued. Zhe ripped it away, studying a trail of tacky slime that circled the trunk, about the breadth of a closed hand. It reminded zhem of snail trails in the Deepcaves.


    ¡°That may not be necessary. It¡¯s quite safe this close to the breach,¡± Fenn said. ¡°I¡¯ve fallen asleep several times with no incident. The first time was an accident, but nothing happened, so...¡±


    Zhe could not believe he was so relaxed in a place like this, exposed to unfamiliar elements and this near the Door. He was a fool.


    ¡°Syrdin is right to be careful,¡± Krid countered, gesturing in zheir direction, ¡°and Fae creatures aren¡¯t our only concern. ¡°The last thing I want is for the Everandian Guards to arrest me in my sleep. Zhe seems keen to watch, so if zhe agrees, zhe can have first, and I second. Then one of you elves with your short nights can take over.¡±


    Satisfied that they were not in immediate danger, Syrdin hopped down from the tree into the camp. The flower princess visibly flinched, while Mell raised a brow. Fenn didn¡¯t seem to notice at all, absorbed in his own notebook. Not sure if I¡¯d trust a guy like that with Watch duty.


    Syrdin gave a curt nod in answer to Mell¡¯s raised brow. We¡¯re safe. ¡°Works for me.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of sleep,¡± Mell stifled a yawn against her hand, ¡°that¡¯s what we all should be doing,¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Fenn finally looked up from his book, ¡°there aren¡¯t enough tents for everyone, so we also must decide where everyone will sleep. If we do have watches, that will alleviate the problem.¡±


    Syrdin sent a smug glance toward Galendria, not that she could see it under zheir hood. ¡°No, it¡¯s not a problem. Those of us who weren¡¯t invited can just sleep under the sun.¡± Syrdin could find a shady spot and sleep well enough, but Madame Noble Privilege¨Cwell, Syrdin doubted she could do the same.


    ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Galendria huffed, turning away. Then she began to hum. Syrdin stared. What in the depths of Arsdark is she doing?


    The hum shifted pitch slowly, then a soft white mist formed around Galendria, collected in front of her, then gathered into a distinct shape. The shape of a tent. ¡°Well, if that¡¯s it then, I¡¯ll be off to bed. Fenn, could I borrow a blanket?¡±


    Syrdin clenched zheir jaw. So she knows some party tricks. How quaint.


    ¡°Mmmm very nice skill!¡± the drakeman rumbled.


    Fenn nearly tripped over himself walking over, velvety blanket in hand. As in the Cultural Center, it seemed the Flower Princess¡¯ abilities surprised him.¡°Galendria, how?¡± He stopped in front of her tent. ¡°Where? When did you¡­?¡±


    Truly, the Etnfrandians had abandoned the old ways. But not all of them. That did not bode well. It smelled of conspiracy.


    The girl patted Fenn¡¯s hand as she took the blanket from him.¡°We¡¯re all tired, Fenn. You should sleep. We¡¯ll all have plenty of questions to ask tomorrow. ¡± With that, the she-elf slipped into her conjured tent and disappeared, leaving Fenn with his mouth agape in another question he hadn¡¯t been able to ask.


    Syrdin smirked. She doesn¡¯t have a bedroll in there. The girl won¡¯t last out here. Zhe plopped on the ground where the grass had been worn down near the travel stove and set out to remove the artifacts from zheir bag. First, zhe placed a decorative wooden box on the ground next to zhem. It had a rectangular crystal inside. Boring. Next the pair of armored boots, exquisitely decorated and surprisingly lightweight. The goddess pictured gave zhem a pause. Zhe wrinkled zheir nose in disgust.


    ¡°Syridn, I think we can worry about the artifacts tomorrow, don¡¯t you?¡± Mell stood, her attention now turned toward Syrdin after observing Fenn and his lady.


    Syrdin grinned up at Mell, careful to keep zheir face turned away from the others. ¡°They¡¯ve got less of a chance of being stolen here than in my bag, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    Mell shrugged. ¡°Sure, if you¡¯re that curious what they are like. I¡¯m headed to bed.¡±


    She passed Fenn, who was headed toward Syrdin and the artifacts. She stopped him. ¡°No, you have to go to bed, too. If you get started, you won¡¯t sleep.¡±


    Fenn hung his head, hesitating, then for some reason he obeyed her. Syrdin didn¡¯t mind that. Except zhe had one question.


    ¡°Hey, why the artifacts, anyway, if you were just trying to get here?¡±


    Fenn paused on his way, arms closed awkwardly in front of him. ¡°Erm,¡± he raised one hand to push up his glasses. ¡°I suppose I am hoping they hold a hint of what happened. Why the gods cut us off from the Fae. Or maybe where the gods are, if they still are.¡±


    Syrdin snorted at the idea of stealing such potent magic items just to study them for clues. Sure, they might be useful, but for history? Or navigation? Nah, but they could help once we know how to use them. Zhe hoped the scholars could figure that out.


    Mell ducked toward a tent with books stacked to the side in a pile, as though recently cleared out.. ¡°Fenn, any reason I can¡¯t have this one?¡±


    ¡°Please do, and Syrdin can share it with you. I¡¯ll share with Krid for tonight. Then he can pitch his tent tomorrow.¡± Fenn disappeared into the other tent.


    Syrdin couldn¡¯t help but wonder if he might have shared with Mell if his betrothed had not been nearby. Size-wise, it made more sense. Fenn was lanky, Mell was moderately tall and soft, the drake was hulking, and Syrdin was¡­ well, no taller than anyone¡¯s shoulder.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Zhe resumed zheir tour of the artifacts, placing a grip for a walking staff next to the boots. Probably not. Fenn seemed like the type to have an overdeveloped sense of guilt. Zhe held up the necklace, an interesting specimen. It drew zhem in with a simple interwoven design, metal threads lacing over one-another in a tangle. It longed to be worn, to be openly displayed on the breast of the wearer. Zhe found zhemself fingering it with a foreign sense of admiration. Strange. Zhe draped it quickly over the wooden box.


    The final artifact was the bow. Syrdin peered at the carvings. Anruwan¡¯s hands outstretched over his curly head provided a focal point for the art, as well as a point with which to aim. Bodies of sun and light danced above him. Syrdin plucked the string. It plinked with a finely tuned, reverberating sound. Magical infusion in the string. An ordinary string would have become brittle after a few years, even more so after a couple thousand on display.


    Zhe felt a large presence behind them, an intense gaze.


    ¡°Do you need help with something, Captain?¡± Syrdin placed the bow with the other artifacts.


    ¡°So,¡± his graveled voice seemed strange to Syrdin, ¡°what are you?¡±


    Zhe cocked zheir head. The drakeman had to be dense not to have guessed zheir profession. ¡°A mercenary. I thought a military type would realize that.¡±


    Krid bent down and inhaled sharply. He puffed out the air through his snout. It ruffled Syrdin¡¯s hood. ¡°That much was clear. I¡¯ve worked with quite a few Night Elf mercenaries before. I meant what are you, male or female?¡±


    Syrdin flinched. Zhe had not over, but underestimated the drakeman. Zhe¡¯d forgotten for a moment the comparatively frequent dealings the Brikhvarnni military had with the rogue Night Elves. Unlike the rest of Hethbarn, the Brikhvarnni weren¡¯t hostile toward them. Zhe peered at him. His arms were crossed, but his posture wasn¡¯t combative. He already knew zhe was a Night Elf, as did Mell. The Etnfrandians would not take that news well. Zhe needed to shut this meddling lizard up, and quickly. ¡°I thought the Brikhvarnni valued privacy.¡±


    ¡°Usually one¡¯s profession, race, and gender are public knowledge.¡±


    ¡°Why does it matter?¡±


    He blinked his transparent lid and scratched his chin. ¡°Your people¡¯s gender determines certain qualities. I thought, since you are the only other warrior present, I should know what you are capable of.¡±


    Syrdin stood up from the artifacts. The drakeman was tall, about the same height as any highland elf¨Ctaller if his naturally curved back were straightened¨Cand was easily three or four times Syrdin¡¯s weight. In a fight, zhe¡¯d have to rely on swiftness and zheir ability to hide. ¡°And if a person exhibits none of those qualities? Or refuses to be associated with them?¡±


    ¡°Our people acknowledge what has been given, even after it has been taken.¡± He spoke of the elven ex-slaves taking refuge in Brikhvarnn, degendered and discarded by all others. A knot tied itself in Syrdin¡¯s throat. It was a cruel and hateful atrocity, what those dwarves did. Still, Syrdin needed to borrow their identity for a bit longer if zhe was going to save others from that fate.


    Zhe huffed. ¡°If you were to tell me your family name and residence, you would expect me to tell no one, correct? That is the Brikhvarnni way?¡±


    The slitted pupils of Krid¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And, if I were to stumble on that information, you¡¯d hope I would still keep it secret?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± He answered too quickly, shoulders squaring for a fight.


    ¡°Easy, Captain,¡± Syrdin soothed between twisted lips. ¡°I¡¯m not saying I seek that information. I am saying that you have stumbled upon information about me more private than even your family¡¯s home is to you, and I ask you, by your Brikhvarnni honor, not to disclose it.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Krid chuckled, a deep-throated sound like a croaking purr. ¡°I see.¡± A knowing glint formed in his eye. ¡°Fine, I will protect your secret. You are sharp in mind and blade, and have protected my friends thus far. I¡¯ll extend my Brikhvarnni honor to you.¡±


    Syrdin pushed down zheir nerves and pounded zheir first on zheir chest in Brikhvarnni fashion. ¡°Thanks.¡± He knows.


    Krid mirrored zhem. ¡°A pebble in the mountains. Don¡¯t kick it and cause an avalanche.¡±


    Syrdin smiled. Zhe always liked Brikhvarnni sayings. They were honest and to the point. The drakeman walked away, seemingly satisfied. He would be. The Brikhvarni loved nothing more than a strong, respectable ally.


    That was something the two of them had in common. It would be nice to have a true ally. Syrdin shook away the thought. No one would support zhem if they knew zheir true mission. The fate of an entire people rested on zheir shoulders, and it happened to be the most hated people in the five realms.


    Besides, who would zhe trust? The professor who nearly got himself killed before their mission even started? The haughty Etnfrandian that would sooner call for zheir death than hear zheir reasons? The straight-forward Brikhvarnni with no mind for politics? No. Perhaps Mell if she had not sworn fealty to Cyalmara Lorthen. It wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    Zhe would fight alone, as zhe always had.


    Syrdin stood and brushed the dust from zheir knees. Zhe eyed the necklace. By rights, zhe could snatch it and leave now. Zhe could find zheir own way. No, the scholars will find the gods more quickly. If zhe were discovered, zhe could flee then.


    Syrdin gazed around again. Krid¡¯s tent stood by the others, and he had disappeared into it. Zhe was alone. That was how zhe preferred to be. Alone.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    She ran her fingers over the shimmering canvas of her tent. It hummed her tune back to her, a gentle lullaby against her raucous nerves. Her tent would dissipate in a few hours, and she needed to sleep. The strident calls of the sshho¨Cthe birds didn¡¯t help. Hopefully, it would be the Brikhvarnni¡¯s watch when it dispersed. She would hate for the others to notice, especially after the dirt-diver fiasco.


    She closed her eyes. The image of Fenn clutching at his arm as it bled invaded her mind. The sound of his scream. She curled up and clutched the blanket to her chin. Why? This place, he had called it dangerous. Enough to invite a warrior. It had turned out that Etnfrandia could be dangerous, too, if someone broke the rules as he had. It was as if his life, his future, their future, didn¡¯t matter to him next to whatever he was seeking.


    All this for some lost history? Surely not. At best, he might find crumbling ruins of an ancient civilization.


    Yet, he had seemed so sure, standing tall in defiance of his father. Before today, she had only ever seen him cower from him.


    What could possibly be so important to him? Tidbits of history hardly seemed like enough. Perhaps some lost magic?


    The gods? He had mentioned them to his father, and had brought along the kindly holy woman, Mellark. Even before this venture, his research had helped her understand the divine symbolism interwoven into Pre-War Era songs. Does he seek them? Until now, she had believed he was honest. And he was horrid at telling lies. She would just ask him directly.


    The ground was hard against her shoulder and hips, and she turned over. He might not tell me. The way he had behaved, had begged her not to come, made her doubt that he had ever intended to tell her about any of this. Had he intended to return to Etnfrandia?


    He had abandoned her once before, when he had departed Etnfrandia for Hethbarn¡¯s human nations. And he had planned to do it again for the Wildlands.


    She shoved the idea away. He must have planned to come back. He agreed to our matroniage.


    She reached instinctively for a small spyglass she kept in her pocket. It was a token from their childhood. They had come upon it in the forests near the Greenriver Valley in one of their many summer days spent playing there. She had once again dragged him from his books, and once again he had joined her eccentric game of pretend without question. He never questioned her oddities. At first, he¡¯d asked to study the trinket, but in the end he¡¯d let her have it. He had always been kind like that: kind to her not because she was a pretty face with some artistic merit and an important father. He had seen her. Accepted her.


    She turned it in her hand, watching the crystal end glitter and refract in the soft light of her tent. If he had secrets, fine. So did she. Secrets that would jeopardize her citizenship if any Etnfrandian knew them. Any except Fenn. Fenn had always understood her. Now it was her turn.


    He might ask me to leave again, for my safety. Well, she would not leave. She¡¯d prove that she was useful. Not a burden, like the little goblin person had said. Important. Important to him, as he was to her.


    Is leaving actually an option? Wouldn¡¯t I be arrested? She buried the thought under the blanket, nestling into the embroidery. The silver threads depicted the Willowbrith sigil, a sigil she still hoped to one day wear. When they did return, her father would help them avoid trouble. Fenn had clearly intended to return, at some point, just as he had before. He must have a plan. Or, at least an idea.


    Spyglass in hand, she closed her eyes tightly. She breathed in and pictured herself succeeding, as she might for a performance. She stood next to Fenn, who gawked in awe at the ruins of a temple she¡¯d discovered. The drake captain applauded, the holy woman bowed reverently, and the small goblin of a person was nowhere to be seen, scared off by Galendria¡¯s watchful eye. She let the image lull her to sleep.

 Chapter 9: In Need of Directions

    Where the sun touched earth


    And first light gave birth


    We praise the sun.


    On the mountain high


    In the blessed sky


    We praise the sun.


    The elves who dance


    In heaven¡¯s trance


    We praise the sun.


    The bond of friends


    That never ends


    We praise the sun.


    His beauteous rays


    Father of bounteous days


    We praise the sun.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    The next ¡°morning,¡± Mell sat beside Fenn on a blanket spread over the ground, parchments scattered around them. The sun, ever bright overhead, glared down on her shoulders. Near the other side of their camp, Krid was organizing supplies for their, according to him, imminent departure, while Syrdin had disappeared into a treetop to keep an eye out. Out of sight, Gale slept in Mell¡¯s tent where she had disappeared soon after Mell had risen.


    ¡°In the second stanza,¡± Fenn pointed Mell to the spot, ¡°in the poetic translation, it¡¯s on a mountain peak in the sky, and that doesn¡¯t tell us much. But here,¡± he pointed to the same verse copied in perfect script into one of Fenn¡¯s notebooks, no doubt from some ancient faded scroll, ¡°in the original Faerish, it translates ¡®the highest peak, among radiant clouds.¡¯ That must be a reference to the tallest peak in the Wild¨CFaeworld.¡±


    They had been up for a while. At first, they had studied the artifacts. Though they gave no hint to the gods'' whereabouts, each seemed to represent one. They had just begun to ascertain which gods when Krid prompted them to shift focus toward determining a destination: a necklace for Boidhan, a bow for Anruwan, boots for one of the night goddesses. It seemed much more fascinating than poetry, but Krid was right, direction was important. Finding it required a bit of translating from Faerish¨Cthe mother language of the Faenic tongues¨Cand some scholarly theorizing about the location of a temple.


    Or perhaps hypothesizing was a more accurate description.


    Mell did not hide her frustration as she nodded along with Fenn¡¯s conclusion. ¡°Yes, m-hm, the tallest peak in the whole Faeworld.¡± She turned a glare on him. ¡°Fenn, how are we supposed to find that? We have no maps!¡±


    ¡°Sh-sh¡± Fenn gestured his hands low. He glanced toward the tent nearest them where Galendria rested. It seemed that she hadn¡¯t slept well. And that seemed to bother Fenn. Elves weren¡¯t supposed to need much sleep. Mell could understand why he would worry, but not why he seemed to feel guilty about it. He was not to blame for Gale joining them. However, she could blame him for his lack of preparedness. We¡¯re all risking our lives here, and he has no idea where we are to go. Doesn¡¯t he realize that?


    ¡°First of all, I do have a map.¡± He whispered. ¡°And¨C¡±


    Mell snorted. ¡°Yes, the unmarked map of a continent we can only assume we are on.¡±


    He sighed. ¡°And we do have a hint on the location in the first stanza. It is a poetic reference to the first place light touches, which makes sense for a temple of the sun-god.¡±


    Mell crossed her arms and leaned back. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°So we have to figure out where the sun rises here, and look for a mountain whose peak receives the first taste of sun. Again, because we are looking for the tallest peak.¡±


    Mell squinted at him, annoyed. Where the sun rises.  She glanced up at the unnaturally purple-tinted sun, still in the same location as it had been all day¡ªand all night when she had been trying to sleep¡ªand sighed. ¡°Fenn,¡± she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. ¡°How are we supposed to figure out where the sun rises in a place where it never goes down?¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Fenn scratched under his glasses. ¡°I¡¯ve been working on that.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so.¡±


    ¡°The sun never goes down here,¡± he gestured to the grassy ground beneath them, ¡°But it does move a little. If we travel away from the direction of the sun, we should come to a place where it rises and sets, even if just barely above the horizon.¡± He looked at her, waiting for confirmation that she understood.


    She glared upward, then back at Fenn. Her brow quirked, betraying her thought: Seriously? This wasn¡¯t like the farthest longitudes of their own plane, that much was clear. It was permanently near the middle of the day here. His theory? Useless. However¡­


    ¡°Fenn,¡± she gestured for him to come closer with her finger. He leaned forward, eyes alight with anticipation. She let her hand fly up and gave his forehead a solid flick.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he yelped and rubbed the spot. ¡°Was it that bad of an idea?¡±


    Then came the however. ¡°If we walk away from the main sun here,¡± she pointed upward, ¡°then we are more likely to come to a perpetual dusk than anything.¡±


    His shoulders sagged and he stared at the ground. Mell could just hear him mumble, ¡°or a perpetual dawn.¡±


    It seemed that idea had already occurred to him. Then why didn¡¯t he lead with that? His other idea was a waste of time. Time they could be exploring the Faeworld! She looked longingly into the shade of the gnarled, fern-like trees.


    Behind her, Mell heard the tent flap rustle. She turned to see Galendria peeking out, eyes full of sleep. ¡°Is everyone alright? I heard someone yell.¡±


    Fenn opened his mouth to reassure her, but Mell beat him to it. ¡°Sorry for the noise.¡± She let some of her irritation leak into her voice. ¡°Your boyfriend is just attempting to prove that all he learned at the university was how to observe, not conclude.¡±


    Fenn snapped his mouth shut. That comment seemed to sting. She almost felt bad. She probably would later, once she¡¯d eaten and they had a real plan.


    Mell sighed and took the notebook from him. ¡°Fenn, I don¡¯t see how we could know which direction dawn or dusk are in. Besides, I¡¯m not positive you¡¯re reading this right. ¡®And first light gave birth.¡¯ In the original, it could just as easily be a reference to the place the sun was born. ¡®First light birthed forth.¡¯¡±


    Fenn pushed up his glasses and squinted at the Faerish text. ¡°Or the place where Anruwan was born, if you want to take a more poetic interpretation.¡±


    Mell tapped her finger on the page in an impatient rhythm. ¡°I still think we need a better plan than chasing down a sunrise.¡±


    Galendria stood over her shoulder. She blinked slowly. ¡°So, you two are looking for the gods?¡±


    Mell buried her face in the notebook. Best not to interfere with this.


    Fenn swallowed hard. ¡°Well, if they are here to be found, then yes. But mostly we seek their temples. Temples tend to have stores of information as well as serving as places of worship.¡± He seemed to hold his breath and tense his shoulders, like he was bracing himself for a barrage of punches.


    If religion was as taboo as he had indicated, he should face a barrage of questions, or some kind of outrage.


    Galendria cocked her head. ¡°Then why are you looking for Anruwan? Shouldn¡¯t you be looking for Athyr Boidhan? He¡¯s the Highking.¡±


    Fenn stared at her, mouth open. Galendria gazed back, eyes still half closed.


    Mell glanced between them. She shouldn¡¯t know that. With Fenn too stunned to answer, Mell spoke up. ¡°Well, yes that would be nice. Or Kialmara Lorthen, for that matter, since he would have the most knowledge. But we have the best lead on Anruwan¡¯s temple. This song references his place of worship.¡± She proffered the Elvish text upward for Galendria to see.


    She crouched over Mell¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Oh, We Praise the Sun. I sang a different version of this at a Summer Festival a couple decades ago. It¡¯s pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Mell smiled. Her own response had been very different. More of a piqued interest at such an ancient translation than any consideration for the poem¡¯s artistic value. ¡°Yes, I suppose it is.¡±


    ¡°Do you really think that the place in the song is real?¡± Galendria¡¯s eyes seemed to be opening wider now, her blinks shorter in coming.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Fenn said, somewhat recovering himself. ¡°Absolutely.¡±


    Galendria hummed. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not very clear on the location is it? Just on a mountaintop in the sky.¡±


    ¡°Y-yes,¡± Fenn blinked at her rapidly like one would try to bat away a floater, or anything else not real, ¡°but I believe it is likely located wherever dawn is here.¡±


    Galendria¡¯s eyes were on the Elvish translation. ¡°You¡¯re sure it¡¯s on this side? This describes Elves being there.¡±


    Mell suppressed a smile as Fenn nodded. ¡°The Faeworld is simply another name for the Wildlands. We all lived here once.¡±


    Galendria looked thoughtful for a while. ¡°Well, then, since you two know the language, couldn¡¯t we ask for directions?¡±


    Oh gods. Mell chuckled. Ask directions. It¡¯s so obvious.


    Fenn smiled and leaned his hands back on the blanket. ¡°Well, that would be nice, but I¡¯m pretty sure no more elves live here. If they do, I haven¡¯t seen any.¡±


    Mell had to keep herself from sputtering. Galendria shook her head. ¡°No, not Elves. I know there aren¡¯t any of us around. But didn¡¯t you mention other things here? Dryads and centaurs and such?¡±


    Fenn finally set his wide eyes on Mell. Her ribs shook now, a loud cackle escaping her.


    The blood rushed to Fenn¡¯s face, turning purple in his cheeks. That only made Mell laugh harder.


    Gale turned her head between them. ¡°Am I wrong?¡±


    ¡°No Galendria,¡± Fenn put a hand to his head. ¡°That''s what is so funny. You are absolutely correct.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what are you joking around in gibberish for?¡± Krid called from where he took inventory, small piles of rations and dried goods around him. They had been speaking in Elvish for the sake of the texts. ¡°We should be working to move onward.¡±


    Mell pulled in a slow breath, attaining composure. She took up Allspeech, for Krid. ¡°Whatever you do, Galendria, please don¡¯t let Fenn and I discuss this on our own. Perhaps a normal elf is exactly what we need for this expedition.¡± She hesitated for a moment. But she¡¯s not quite normal, is she? Not for an Etnfrandian.


    A flattered smile washed over the she-elf¡¯s face and Mell let the thought go. Galendria clasped her hands in front of her as she stood. ¡°Wonderful! When do we start our search?¡±


    Mell noticed a little smile find its way onto Fenn¡¯s face as he studied his fellow Etnfrandian. Mell mirrored it. Her simple joy was infectious.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a while yet, since Krid¨C¡±she started


    ¡°Not a while, a short while!¡± Krid called.


    ¡°...Krid is still repacking, and Fenn and I need to finish going through some more notes. Not to mention we haven¡¯t figured out what the artifacts do.¡± She gestured to where they lay on the ground. ¡°Though Krid might not let us get to that. He thinks staying here is a bad idea. I can¡¯t say I disagree.¡± She studied Gale as she spoke. The girl had surprised Fenn with her magic and knowledge. Who is to say other Etnfrandian¡¯s couldn¡¯t do the same?


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    There was an art to packing. Krid leaned back and nodded at his work. Fenn had categorized the goods with all of the food together, the waterskins, the tarps, and the books. These were things that must be distributed. Each person must carry some, so that if one person lost a pack, no one would starve.


    Krid twisted his body around to look where the book-heads sat. They were all in high spirits after their campside chats. ¡°So, no one¡¯s going to tell me what the joke was?¡±


    Syrdin slipped from zheir spot in a tree. ¡°Flower princess realized we could just ask for directions. They were laughing about it.¡±


    ¡°Hrmph.¡± Krid went back to his work. Ask who?  ¡°Scholars, I suggest you tidy your books and those magic things. Once we get those directions, we move out quickly.¡±


    Ever slow to respond, the others began to discuss how to transport the magic stuff, as though they were sacred. Or fragile. He could not imagine why they would be so obsessed.  His own people lived and died without magic stuff. He focused on his own work.


    It was clear from the supplies that moving camp had not been Fenn¡¯s plan. For three people, there was food for a couple weeks. A barrel of grain, a box of flat biscuits, another of dried fruit. It was stuff that would keep, but much of it was too heavy or too bulky to carry far. They had no camels, no wagons, not even a two-wheeled cart. No meat, of course. Fenn would not have had access to it in Etnfrandia. Krid had brought his own jerky.


    He eyed the Scholar Mellark. Her heavy-set frame moved slowly as she sorted books with Fenn, and her skin wrinkled at the creases with the aging of the soft-skinned. She should bear a lighter burden. He moved a sack of hard grain from her pile to his.


    He nodded and dusted off his claws. With the camp organized, Krid unbound his own large bundle and pulled his armor from within. Brushed iron plates protected cotton padding. The cotton allowed the fabric to breathe in the Brikhvarnni desert, while the iron provided the real protection. Small plates overlapped one another like rectangular scales draped over the torso and back, and bunched at the shoulders.


    His armor bore the honor of many scars. He traced the deepest crack in it with his claw. That scar had come claiming his wife from a rival family, his greatest honor. Krid strapped it on, secured his shield to his back, and tied his sword to his hip. With preparations complete, he stood nearby the others. ¡°Where do we ask for these directions?¡±


    Fenn hopped up, then hesitated. Mell hauled herself up from the ground behind him.


    ¡°We could start by heading toward the sun, that way our direction is easy to reverse,¡± he said at last.


    Krid held back his frustration. To arrive expecting a full-fledged plan, only to find there was none. Of course not. I should have known. He would never have met Fenn if he had rightly planned for his need for shelter and water in the desert. At least this time Fenn had packed plenty of flasks and rations. He had learned that much.


    Still, it was wise to chase the sun. He nodded, and they gathered to move out.


    Krid looked to the sky in search of his heading. The sun was where it had been for the entire trip, near the peak of the sky. He growled in his throat. ¡°Fenn, will you lead?¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± Fenn skipped forward, excited to get started. Krid fell in step just behind him. He would stand in the middle where he could reach danger quickly from any direction. Or, that was his plan. The rest of this troup had other ideas. Or a lack of them.


    Syrdin disappeared immediately, seeming to scout around. Even now, well-rested and at his best, he could just catch traces of zhem dodging between the trees.


    Fenn, though leading, stopped at every bud and leaf, fawning over them as though each represented the miracle of life on its own. After the tenth-or-so insect spat a most pungent-smelling liquid at them, the Scholar Mell, who had been stopping with him, decided she had had enough. She began pulling Fenn along by his elbow while Galendria trailed behind with a sullen expression.


    Krid huffed from his place in the ever-shifting center. His own wife would start a brawl if some other female clung to his arm like that. Poor little she-elf.


    He kept alert. From the trees gleamed the beady eyes of unknown predators. Krid could hear the rustle of wings, the creeks of branches, the brush of his companion¡¯s footfalls in the grass. And the smell¡ªthe pungent stench of life invaded his snout like an army until he could neither count the number nor tell one from the next. A distant rustling and thumping in the underbrush snagged his attention. He closed his fist in the air to call for quiet.


    ¡°But there is that shiny blue one!¡± Fenn pointed to yet another winged critter preening in a bow. It squawked. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen that one before.¡± He was pleading to Mell to let him stop and sketch it.


    ¡°Quiet!¡± He hissed, half-frustrated, half afraid.


    He gestured them over to him as he snuffed the air. A foul stench approached from the side, and he could sense the vibrations of several hefty feet rattle up through his tail.


    ¡°Hide here,¡± he shepherded them into a patch of ferns and bid them to squat.


    In the shadows, Syrdin joined them with a whisper, ¡°a herd of six beasts. Blind, but great hearing. By the look, aggressive.¡±


    Krid startled, then nodded. It was good information. Information he wished he¡¯d had sooner. They could have stayed out of the brush if they were blind. It was easier to be quiet without leaves against you. He held a finger over his mouth and met the eyes of each of his companions. ¡°Hold very still,¡± he mouthed.


    Hidden, he turned toward the danger. The first one emerged, silent, uglier than a mudstone guppy. It was half the height of a man at its shoulder and fatter than an autumn pig. It had dirty, tattered hair hanging from it, and white bones fanned up from along its spine. A fleshy, wide nose huffed at the ground, flanked by long tusks the lengths of a man¡¯s forearm. He might have called it a boar if not for the bony spine and long, flapping ears that dragged on the ground. Most disturbing, it had no eyes. It walked on narrow-toed feet quietly. All along its path, it turned up plants, licking up insects with a quick tongue.


    Five more followed it. He could see plain as the sand and sun why Syrdin had guessed they were aggressive. Deep scarring marked every one of them. In zig-zags and webbing, their flesh bubbled up hairless and mangled. Even the smallest one bore long scabs running down its body. As he watched, he strategized. Most likely, those ears were sensitive, and he could confuse them with noise.


    One of the not-boar sniffed in their direction and croaked out a noise. Krid gripped his hilt. A rustling in the woods turned its attention to where the little one upturned the roots of a fern to reveal a colony of bugs. The larger one snorted and charged, tossing him aside. Fresh goring glittered with blood on the side of the runt as it sailed into a tree. It wailed, squealing as it impacted. After, it righted itself and continued its rooting ignoring the wound.


    Anger churned in Krid¡¯s stomach, a power building. It was the utmost shame of these creatures to abuse the weak in this way. But they were mere beasts. Dangerous beasts. One could toss another meters. Even the runt easily would weigh 45 kilos [100 lbs]. He kept himself in check. Perhaps, in a fight, I could turn them against each other.


    Every wide-eyed breath of his companions sounded to him as loud as thunder. Still, they kept on rooting. If the beasts knew of their existence they did not acknowledge it. One approached and began overturning the roots at Krid¡¯s feet. It took every bit of his control not to move. Gale¡¯s breath hitched behind him, and he knew by the smell of her fear that she withheld a whimper.


    The beast crunched up a beatle then sniffed the ground. His tusk brushed Krid¡¯s toe. At the difference in texture, he shot out his tongue. He licked it. Krid had no feeling in the claws of his toes, but he could scarcely believe what had transpired. The beast paused. It must have been nasty, because the creature billowed an ugly sneeze, splattering Krid¡¯s knickers with snot. Finally, it wandered away, its fellows following it. They walked around the five companions as though they were nothing but odd, squatty trees.


    Still he waited, waited until they were out of sight, out of hearing, til their stench began to fade. His companions began to shift uncomfortably, though at a glare from him they did not speak.


    Finally, Krid relented. ¡°They must be gone by now.¡±


    Gale sighed and flopped on the ground. ¡°I thought my legs were going to give out from crouching.¡±


    ¡°Hear hear!¡± Mell had had the foresight to kneel, but now rubbed her knees.


    Fenn stood and pushed up his glasses. ¡°A most unusual creature. I¡¯ll have to look it up.¡± At a warning glare from Kird, he added, ¡°later, of course.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s going into the ol¡¯ memoir for sure.¡± Mell hauled herself up.


    They resumed their disorganized, dallied pace, if not a bit subdued for a while. The squat trees with many branches and broad leaves melted into ones with longer, smoother leaves. These, Mell had to pull Fenn past, as they had odd clusters of fruit. Those transitioned again to trees with deeper, knottier bark. Everywhere they went, little creatures not unlike the desert roo-mice skittered out of their path.


    Syrdin appeared from the woods with something in zheir hand. ¡°Fenn, you got a name for little people with butterfly wings?¡±


    ¡°Pixies?¡± he whirled from a shiny bug with two arched claws like scorpion tails. ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t those have dragon-fly wings? And green clothes? Or was it no wings?¡± Mell asked, looking between him and Syrdin.


    ¡°That¡¯s the marsh variety. Other varieties have¨C¡±


    ¡°Pixies?¡± Krid repeated the strange word. The middle sound hissed strangely in his mouth. ¡°Is it a bug?¡±


    ¡°Hm, no. sparrow-sized, elf-like, with a faint glow.¡± Syrdin held up a tiny blue stone. ¡°This one threw an egg at me.¡± Zhe tossed it to Fenn, who fumbled the catch. It dropped onto the roots below him, cracked and oozing yellow and purple fluid.


    ¡°Did you see where it went?¡± Fenn asked.


    ¡°Are we going to ask it for directions?¡± Gale bounced on her toes, excited.


    ¡°Are they friendly?¡± Krid growled. The lesson of scorpions and snakes was that creatures of any size could be dangerous, not just large beasts. These three seemed not to know.


    Another egg hit the ground at Mell¡¯s feet. A shrill cackle cut through the din of insects, and Krid tensed. He put a hand to his hilt. Sparrow-sized. Though he knew little of this creature''s dangers, methods of attack ran through his head. Hit it with the broad side of my blade; use my breath or claws if I must.


    ¡°Follow it!¡± Fenn leapt that direction, triggering another squeal of delight from the creature.


    Krid charged after him, close at his heels. If his sworn brother faced danger, Krid would be by his side to protect him. A lack of planning would not get Fenn killed. Not while Krid watched over him.


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    He dashed after the pixie. She kept giggling. One moment, she was on their left blowing a raspberry, and the next she threw a projectile¨Cegg, berry, or mysterious brown object¨Cfrom behind him.


    ¡°Slow down!¡± Mell huffed behind him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose it!¡± Fenn kept searching for it, never catching more than a glimpse of a portly little body with too-big ears and vibrant hair that matched the leaves.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it wants to be lost, Fenn.¡± Galendria followed it with her gaze, smiling. Smiling. Just as she had smiled to help them in their search of gods and temples. It should have shocked her. Or at least frightened her. ¡°She¡¯s enjoying this too much to leave,¡± she finished.


    Gale was right. Fenn slowed to allow Mell to keep pace. He kept up the game, dodging her missiles and jumping to see her as she laughed. It encouraged her to keep going. Gale joined in, giggling with the creature. A couple steps behind him, Krid clawed a handaxe, uneasy. He sidestepped a brown pellet that landed at his feet.


    ¡°Well, at least Gale is having fun,¡± Mell sighed. She leaned against a tree. The pace was still quick for her, it seemed.


    ¡°She shouldn¡¯t,¡± Fenn said, even though he himself had begun to enjoy it. ¡°She should go home,¡± he whispered to Mell. ¡°Krid is right to be wary. It could be leading us to trouble.¡±


    ¡°Go home? Can she do that?¡± Mell almost dodged an egg. It oozed in a small splatter down her cloaked shoulder. ¡°I thought she¡¯d be arrested.¡±


    It hit him like a punch in the stomach. The little nut that hit his forehead bounced off almost unnoticed. Gale could not return. He had been concerned about her fall in society if she aided with his theft. But she had been there when the Everguard chased them through the Door, when he had hurt the Captain. Gale was an accomplice. To return would be to face exile.


    For him, that was hardly a punishment. But it was her whole life.


    He watched her chase the pixie around a tree, laughing as freely as a child hunting butterflies. He felt he was watching her in their youth run around the forests, prancing unawares on the edge of a ravine.


    ¡°Frosts,¡± he squeeked. ¡°Does she even realize?¡±


    ¡°I think she must.¡± Mell tugged him along. They were falling behind. ¡°And she must think something here is worth it.¡± She winked back at him.


    Does Mell mean me? ¡°What could be worth so much loss, only to risk more for so little?¡±


    ¡°You worry for her that much?¡±


    ¡°She entered this realm ignorant. She has none of our knowledge, our experience, and that is pitifully little preparation even for us.¡±


    ¡°And the rest of us?¡± Mell raised a brow as she stepped carefully across a tangle of roots. ¡°Me? Yourself?¡±


    He studied her for a hint of her meaning. Naivety? ¡°I suppose we are both ignorant as well, though less. It is hardly my first time. Gods know that I entered Hethbarn with no knowledge of the wider world. But that was not a wild land. This?¡± he gestured to the forest. As if to emphasize, a leaf opened its mouth and caught a passing beetle on its tongue, pulling it in.


    Mell glared at the predatory leaf. ¡°No, Fenn. Worry. Aren¡¯t you concerned for the rest of us?¡±


    He hesitated. He did worry a bit, he supposed. ¡°Krid is a warrior, you can heal. And Syrdin¡­ might be the most dangerous thing within a kilometer, maybe. And so what about me?¡± He shrugged himself off. I¡¯m not important.


    Mell emitted an exaggerated sigh. ¡°You¡¯re hopeless.¡±


    Odd, she usually tells me I¡¯m optimistic. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that you and I are better prepared for danger. I¡¯m hopeful for our chances. It is not so for her.¡± If Gale responded nonchalantly to pixies, a known tickster, he hated to imagine how she would face a hag. She might enter its hut without ever needing to be charmed.


    ¡°No,¡± Syrdin rounded a tree to face him, ¡°you are not prepared for danger.¡± Pale eyes burned from the shadows of zheir hood, zheir linen-bound arms crossed. ¡°Leave those situations to the dragon and I. No one should aim to be hurt.¡±


    Fenn jolted to a stop. ¡°R-right.¡±


    He gazed past zhem to Galendria just in time to see the vibrant blue line of mushrooms at her feet. ¡°Stop!¡± He yelled. She turned to him, eyes wide. An egg hit her head, dripping down her hair. He sped up to her. ¡°You almost walked straight into their hollow.¡±


    At the noise, more pixies gathered, giggling in their tinkling voices. Some flitted between open knots in the trees, but many paused mid-flight to watch the new arrivals. A portly one here, an impossibly twig-like one there, all clothed in the finest of leaf fashion. Fenn found himself gawking back.


    Mell joined him at the border where the ground dimpled downward into a lower oval a few meters across. ¡°Um, Fenn, wasn¡¯t walking straight up to their hollow always the plan?¡±

 Chapter 10: Pixie Deal

    And Boidhan loved his wife, and she became with child. But when it came time, there were not one but two in the womb. The first was born laughing, and to her were given the Skies to fill with the endless Joy of her imaginings. The second screamed her way into the world, and to pacify her wailing she was given the Moon, that under it she might forever howl her mournful songs.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    <hr>


    Mellark


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t walking straight up to their hollow always the plan?¡± Mell huffed up beside Fenn on the rim of the hollow, her muscles still aching from yesterday¡¯s foray into long-distance running. She let her eyes rove over the place. The gently glowing people flitted like butterflies; many of them stopped in place to gawk. Little knots served as doorways to miniature homes decorated with leaves and twigs. A particularly large branch had open-backed seating in a circle where a handful of men stood blinking at them. The portly lady they had been chasing zipped between groups of the others, trilling in a language Mell was disappointed to discover she did not understand.


    ¡°Erm, I suppose it was the plan.¡± Fenn stepped forward, straightened his ever-hunched shoulders as much as he could, and cleared his throat to speak.


    ¡°Can you understand them?¡± The thought that she might glean another Fae language from him thrilled her.


    ¡°No, but I suspect they will understand me.¡±


    She would not have called Fenn¡¯s voice melodious by any stretch of the imagination, but when he next spoke Faerish, it lilted rhythmically. This, she could understand, if just barely. She studied the language, but had heard it spoken a seldom few times.


    ¡°Sweet pixies, we come to request your aid.¡± He bowed formally.


    They had the attention of the whole community now. The portly one squealed in delight and circled around Fenn. Tiny glowing particles dropped from her as she did. Several others joined her, circling the group. One lifted a strand of Mell¡¯s braids while another inspected her sandaled feet.


    With a jolt, Mell realized the pixie had swapped languages, her giggling taking the form of words. ¡°Outlanders here!¡± ¡°Outlanders here!¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, outlanders from far away,¡± Fenn replied, ¡°and we need your help.¡±


    Mell watched, enraptured, as a twiggy little boy with bright purple wings tried to pry the metal clasp from the end of her braid. ¡°What are you doing there?¡± she tried in Faerish as she pointed to him. He prattled at her in that chirping language she couldn¡¯t understand, grabbing her finger and inspecting it. It tingled where he touched it.


    ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± Fenn¡¯s angry cry pulled her attention to where a pixie had stolen his glasses from his nose. He swiped in the air blindly and knocked both his glasses and the pixie with them to the ground.


    An angry wail erupted from where she fell. The gentle glow around the creatures all took on a threatening red cast.


    ¡°Eeeeee!¡± A pixie male charged them with a screech of anger. He made motions of throwing, and tiny spears appeared in his hand with each movement, launched at Fenn.


    Panic spiked in Mell. Fenn could not see to sidestep it.


    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorr¨C¡± The first spear had fallen to his left, but the second hit him squarely in his chest, knocking him back a step. He sputtered, grasping his chest.


    Krid growled behind Mell, and she heard the clang of metal as he unsheathed his sword.


    Other pixies were pouring from the trees, all aglow with red. Another pixie threw a spear at Fenn and gashed his outstretched hand. Blood erupted from the wound, a surprise to Mell.


    She moved to heal him, but Gale was quicker. She was at Fenn¡¯s side. ¡°Yglia,¡± she whispered. Healing magic. Fenn gasped, falling to his knees.


    Mell changed spells, stepping forward with the one that had worked so well on the elf guard. ¡°Ceasefire!¡± She commanded the pixie male. With her other hand, she dipped her fingers into a pouch of salt, readying another spell. The creature hesitated for a moment, then cocked his arm for another throw.


    She heard the swish of air as Krid waved his sword. She gritted her teeth and held one hand in the symbol for shield while with the other, she threw salt. It glittered and formed a dome over Fenn.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt them!¡± Fenn¡¯s order took her by surprise. ¡°Please, we meant no harm.¡± He pleaded in the sing-song language to the pixies. The whipping of wind stopped behind her, Krid¡¯s blade coming to a standstill. A lack of high-pitched cries told her his swing had missed.


    A spear was absorbed into the dome, and another landed at Krid¡¯s feet. He growled, and she glanced back to see him take up his fighting stance once more.


    ¡°We wish to make a deal!¡± Fenn cried.


    The pixies stopped in place, as though frozen in time. The glow changed from red to vibrant yellow in an instant. ¡°A deal?¡±


    ¡°A deal!¡± Another echoed. The cry was taken up, rippling through them.


    Oh gods, what has he done now?


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    Fenn reached for his glasses with a shaky hand. Before he could fumble around in the dirt, Mell knelt beside him and pressed them into his grip. He pushed them on his face, standing unsteadily, then bowed low. ¡°I apologize for hurting one of you. It was not my intention. We are only passing through and need your aid.¡± His voice wavered as he clutched at his chest where blood stained his tunic. Somehow, Gale had relieved some of the severity, but it still throbbed with pain. How does she know how to do that?


    The pixies barraged him with a cascade of high-pitched insults.


    ¡°Pants-pooper!¡±


    ¡°Mother-hater!¡±


    ¡°Murder-monger!¡±


    ¡°Magicless dunderhead!¡±


    Their pinched voices overlapped, an onslaught he could barely hear over his own pulse as it pounded in his ears. ¡°Please, hear our request, and we will be on our way.¡±


    A pixie in a short, leafy gown endowed with flower petals flew forward. ¡°What gift, what praise, what offering do you bring, that we should allow this deal, this thing?¡± She squeaked at him.


    He blinked at her. ¡°Gift?¡± He¡¯d known the pixies might fixate on a deal, but he did not know how to make one. He could sense Mell chomping her tongue near him. ¡°We did not know to bring one, for we are not from this land. What offering would suffice?¡±


    The pixies giggled, a strange, tinkling sound. Then, swift as a blink, they scattered into groups. A wife leaned into a husband¡¯s ear, a group of girls circled up here, another group hovered by the trees, whispering to one another. A moment later, the groups broke up and reformed with different folks in them, changing formation like dancers on cue to music he could not hear.


    Then one zipped up to the ear of the one facing him. That one¡¯s wings were more akin to a moth. If he were a little less hurt, he might like to sketch it. He moved his unharmed hand from his chest to his arm. The bleeding gash was long, but not terribly deep. He shivered. The warm liquid made him sick to his stomach.


    ¡°The yuka fruit!¡± the frontmost pixie exclaimed finally.


    ¡°The yuka fruit!¡± another echoed. ¡°The yuka!¡± ¡°The yuka!¡± A chirping chorus of pixies repeated the name in a frantic moment of euphoria.


    Yuka... Yuka. Fenn squinted past his pain trying to place the name of the fruit. He turned to Mell, hoping she knew.


    ¡°And just what in the five realms is the yuka fruit?¡± Mell was losing her patience. She¡¯d been short of it all day.


    ¡°A pink fruit!¡±


    ¡°A long fruit¡±


    ¡°A five-sided fruit!¡±


    ¡°The best fruit!¡±


    Their voices clipped over one another, like baby birds after a worm. Fenn glanced confusedly between them, dizzied by the many sounds¨Cor perhaps it was the sight of his blood. ¡°Where does it grow?¡± He managed.


    ¡°The yuka tree!¡±


    ¡°Yes, the tree!¡±


    ¡°The tall tree!¡±


    ¡°The straight tree!¡±


    ¡°The grove!¡±


    Mell turned to Fenn and asked in Allspeech, ¡°You don¡¯t suppose they mean that grove of taller trees with the shiny leaves we passed through, do you?¡±


    Fenn squeezed his arm tighter. He would not call that tree tall, but perhaps next to the squat gnarled ones, the pixies might think so. ¡°Yes, I believe they do. Perhaps it was not such a bad thing that I stopped to have a look. If I recall their fruit clusters were a shade of pink.¡±


    Krid puffed out frustration next to them. ¡°Just what are you thinking of doing?¡± he growled. His eyes roved over Fenn, resting on his injuries. The drakeman¡¯s claws were flexed, ready to strike. The pixie¡¯s attack had severely disturbed him. Fenn suspected the fact that he understood nothing of the language did not help his unease.


    ¡°A trade of sorts,¡± Fenn hugged his arm to his stomach, hiding it from himself as much as Krid. ¡°We bring them fruit and they give us information.¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Krid nodded sharply.


    Fenn turned back to the pixies. ¡°We¡¯ll bring you this fruit, then you¡¯ll listen to us?¡±


    ¡°Deal!¡± the pixie-wife said.


    ¡°Yes!¡± another echoed.


    ¡°Of course!¡±


    ¡°Hooray!¡±


    ¡°Yuka!¡±


    They frittered around and scattered into the trees, laughing and giggling, undoubtedly spreading the news of a bumper crop of fruit meant to come their way. The last one in the leafy dress started to fly away with the others, but turned back. ¡°Be gone and hurry back! Otherwise we might attack!¡± With that, she stuck out her tongue and zipped away.


    Fenn did not intend to spend another moment with the bizarre little creatures. He turned on his heels and sped out of the pixie village, his throbbing arm still clutched to him. The others followed close behind.


    ¡°Fenn! Wait!¡± Gale caught his shoulder. They were a safe distance from the village¨Cprobably. He stopped, teeth clenched against the pain.


    ¡°You¡¯re still hurt.¡± Her voice was gentle now, soft and sweet. Her hand reached for his, gently removing the one pressing his gash.


    He winced. The throbbing doubled when he removed pressure.


    Mell stepped up and tapped Gale¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I got this one.¡±


    Fenn thought he saw Gale stiffen as she stepped to the side. ¡°Of course.¡±


    He chose to focus on the even pressure of Mell¡¯s hand and watch the glow of her headpiece. The ¡°eye¡± encircled by the triangle was the first and last spot to hold light. The throbbing eased, then disappeared. His muscles relaxed. Only a small, scabbed scratch remained where the gash had been. His chest puncture, too, had healed completely. ¡°Thank you, Mell.¡± He glanced at Gale. ¡°Both of you, really.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Gale¡¯s voice shook. ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to heal you properly. My spell is too weak.¡±


    ¡°No, not at all, it¡¯s¡­¡± Fenn waved his hands around to deny her claim. He was very grateful, even if her abilities confused him. ¡°Really, Gale, I¡¯m not sure how you have attained your magic, but I¡¯m glad you have it.¡± He put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder, relieved to find the movement didn¡¯t hurt. ¡°If you had not reacted so quickly in the moment¨C¡± A lump formed in his throat, a gag reflex against troubling thoughts. ¡°Well if you, both of you, hadn¡¯t stepped in to protect me¡­¡±


    He noticed Kridarnn standing nearby, gaze affixed in the direction of the pixie village. ¡°You too, Krid. You were ready to battle them all.¡±


    Krid didn¡¯t acknowledge his words, too focused on monitoring the hollow.


    ¡°Do you really think we can trust the pixies?¡± Gale was blushing under his hand. He snapped it away.


    Mell snorted. ¡°No way.¡±


    ¡°But, well, it¡¯s the best lead we have right now.¡± Fenn shivered at the thought of returning to the pixie hollow.


    Gale nodded. She turned, doubtless as ready as Fenn felt to be further from the pixies. Then stopped. ¡°Where¡¯s Syrdin? It better not have wandered off with the artifacts.¡±


    Fenn jolted. He¡¯d nearly forgotten zhem.


    ¡°Around.¡± Krid¡¯s terse reply bespoke irritation.


    He squinted through the foliage around them and thought he saw a flash of zheir tunic as zhe disappeared between some trees. Why didn¡¯t zhe help with the pixies? Though perhaps he should have been annoyed like Krid, he was mostly curious.


    That was a problem for later. He took a deep breath and stepped back in the direction they¡¯d come from. As they walked, he stole glances at Galendria. Where did she learn that magic?  She appeared lost in thought, unfocused on the glistening leaves that brushed her skirt as she slid passed. Or so he¡¯d thought. She looked up at him suddenly, and he flinched, caught staring. She turned her head, hiding her expression. She¡¯s embarrassed. He didn¡¯t know that for certain, but it seemed likely. Why? Because magical pursuits are illegal? He had been extremely uncomfortable when she asked about their pursuit of the gods that morning. It could be a similar situation.


    He peeked back at her again, then noticed the presence of someone walking near him. Mell¡¯s heavy steps fell in with his.


    ¡°You really didn¡¯t know she could do that?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know any Etnfrandians could wield any magic until yesterday.¡± He kept his voice low, but elven hearing was much better than a human¡¯s. He could only pray that Galendria wasn¡¯t listening. ¡°I really want to know how.¡±


    ¡°Then ask her about it.¡± Mell nudged him and raised her brows as if saying, go on.


    Fenn felt his will drain out through his boots at the thought. It shouldn¡¯t be this intimidating, asking her questions. I¡¯m just talking to her.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t, I will.¡± Mell took one step toward Galendria before Fenn stopped her.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± He crossed the group and let Mell take the lead.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    Gale let her hand brush her shoulder where Fenn had touched it, treasuring the memory of it. He was grateful for her magic. Her magic! She dared to believe he was impressed. Certainly, the wide-eyed glances he kept throwing her direction seemed to say so. Or his expression could be compared to her confused gawking at the lizard-man.


    Doubt rippled through her. Any other Etnfrandian would be outraged. The years of secret practice piled upon her, heavy with guilt. Her father had warned her that practicing magic could earn her exile, or at least banishment from the city¡¯s upper tiers. She had practiced anyway. She couldn¡¯t help it. It was her only connection to¨C


    ¡°Gale?¡± Fenn¡¯s voice next to her made her leap out of her thoughts.


    She shook herself. He would never be bothered by something like that. It was why she had chosen him for a partner.


    ¡°Yes, Fenn?¡± She turned her head up to him. He didn¡¯t say anything. He only pushed his hair up and looked at her as though he were trying to read her like one of his study books. She found herself glancing at the blood stain on his shirt. It was at about her eye-level, making it all too easy to stare. If only I¡¯d been able to fully heal it. ¡°Does it still hurt?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡± He followed her eyes to his shirt. ¡°Ah. No, it¡¯s healed.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°That¡¯s good.¡± She found herself pulling her hands into her sleeves. Stop that. She straightened. She had hardly done that since she was a child. Fenn still wasn¡¯t saying anything, so she opened her mouth again.


    But then he spoke. ¡°It still makes me jumpy as a rabbit, though. How dangerous this realm can be, I mean. One minute, those pixies were curious and giggly, but the next¡­¡± he hung his head. ¡°And those big beasts. It makes me fear for our adventure. What is lingering in the trees, ready to leap out if we misstep? It¡¯s not safe.¡± He wore a tense expression, wincing at his own words.


    She shivered. ¡°Yes, I can see why you planned this trip with the soldier now. And why you wouldn''t want me to come here with you. Near-death experiences aren¡¯t exactly a part of my repertoire. Or they weren¡¯t. But I do have magic to help me, and all of you. But I suppose you didn¡¯t know that. I mean, how could you have? But now we can all look out for each other. It¡¯s going to be alright,¡± She stumbled through her words, hoping her meaning broke through. ¡°We both had secrets, Fenn, but we can move forward honestly now.¡±


    She caught a glimpse of his pensive expression, the one where his nose and brows wrinkled just a touch. Was my message clear? He should try to include her in the group. Mell thought of her as an asset. He could, too. Not just some potential matron, some old friend with high social standing, but a partner in his expedition, in life.


    ¡°How is it that you wield magic?¡± he asked at last.


    She felt a spike of nerves followed by a rush of excitement. The time had come to share a secret of her own. She let the giddiness out as she spoke.


    ¡°You already know that I¡¯ve always been fascinated with Wood Elf legends.¡± She saw his lips twitch with a smile, doubtless remembering their childhood games of pretend. She¡¯d be a Wood-Elf princess or warrior, and he was supposed to be her guard or guide or something. ¡°I got curious about the magic, so I asked for a book on Wood-Elf magic from my father. I begged him for it for some twenty years, I think. And he eventually conceded¨Cas always¨Cand I received it for my fiftieth birthday! He must have smuggled it in for me.¡±


    She shot Fenn a mischievous smile, and her gestures grew more animated as she forgot her worries in the moment. ¡°Then I studied it in secret. In the privacy of my room, I¡¯d read and re-read that book and try out the spells. My dad was irate and threatened to throw it away, but it had significant overlap with my singing, so I could practice without him knowing. You know, a lot of those Etnfrandian songs are laced with magic themselves. It¡¯s a wonder no one has noticed.¡± Even as she poured herself out to him, she found herself omitting information. It was all too natural after a lifetime of hiding.


    Fenn rubbed at his mouth and chin, seeming to digest what she¡¯d said, not even seeing the underbrush fading out as the trees grew denser. They had been there before, Gale noted.


    ¡°Wood Elf Magic?¡± he said finally.


    ¡°Well, yes.¡± She smiled at him. Her obsession with the Wood Elves had begun before their friendship. Surely he won¡¯t question it.


    But shouldn¡¯t he?


    His brows were furrowed deep in thought, working out some problem.


    Once again, she stilled her fingers from fidgeting with her sleeves. ¡°Is that unusual?¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡± It wasn¡¯t much of a reply. ¡°The only thing I can assume is that somehow you¡¯ve forged a connection with Dara, a thing most Etnfrandians can¡¯t do.¡±


    She tilted her head. ¡°Dara?¡± Can¡¯t? She suppressed the panic that rose in her as she realized she was not ready to tell him everything. Not all at once. Bosom secrets she¡¯d sworn to her father she would only share if she married threatened to spill out. But Fenn isn¡¯t like others, so why worry? She had no answer, only the clench of fear in her stomach. Of guilt. Liar. Pretender.


    Fake Etnfrandian.


    He had started muttering to himself under his breath. She caught the words races, gods, Silverstem, aligned, and unheard of. ¡°I¡¯m going to have to search this out. Perhaps it¡¯s just a matter of a bit of Wood Elf in a family line, but it is very strange. Just imagine the possibilities! If any elf can forge a connection with any god, why, we could master any magic we please! I could learn Anruwan¡¯s magic! Or¨Ceven better¨CCyalmara¡¯s!¡± He strode on with extra pep in his step. ¡°This is great, Gale! You¡¯ve completely upended my working theory on Elven magic, but it¡¯s wonderful!¡±


    She blinked away her anxieties and focused on the moment. If she was understanding him right, he had believed until now that only Wood Elves could learn the magic of that race, or at least learn it on a deeper level with a connection to the god, which must be Dalla, or Dora, or whatever Fenn had said. She was glad he was so excited about it, but it also seemed she¡¯d misled him. ¡°But what¡­ you said that could mean there¡¯s a trace of Wood Elf in the Silverstem line?¡±


    He slowed his pace again. ¡°I find it highly unlikely. The tribes were separate until the Unification Era¨Cthat¡¯s after the Third War. Especially the Wood Elves. They and the Night Elves remain separate, and it¡¯s not like Etnfrandians would welcome a Wood Elf immigrant. Still, I cannot discount the possibility.¡±


    Galendria sighed in relief. She did not understand this talk of three wars, but she understood he might not be misled after all. Even better, he was excited about her magic. He took her abilities in stride, and she would do the same for his interests. Though, if she were perfectly honest, she still questioned their venture. What lost knowledge could be worth risking life and limb for? Their people were perfectly content living the way they were. They had no need of the deities or their magic.


    Even as she thought it, she felt the tension of her inner self straining against the thought. She wouldn¡¯t be the same without magic. Would others feel the same, given the chance?

 Chapter 11: A Deal Fulfilled

    "From among the four [Fae, White, Black, and Arcane] magics, Fae is the most sweeping in its applications. It is also the most difficult to acquire. Even for the elves, it is well documented that a tribesman can only wield the magic belonging to their tribe and their god. For anyone without a Fae soul, wielding Fae magic requires a catalyst made from the stones and metals of that realm to bridge the gap between the True and the Fae.¡±


    -Fundamentals of Magic Theory,


    Shiminsmir Cleffoot, PhD, et al.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    The group headed onward with Mell in the lead. Her eyes may have been seeking breaks in the bright foliage, but her mind was on Gale. She has a connection to Dara. That was the one certainty in what Fenn had said. He seemed willing¨Ceven eager¨Cto upend modern magic theory. Mell was not. The magic Gale wielded required a connection, either a natural one or a catalyst.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed any catalyst.


    If she was right, then Gale was a Wood Elf wielding Dara¡¯s magic, and her conjurations should be magical creations rather than summons. It was the most logical conclusion, even if it was an insult to Galendria¡¯s ¡°good standing,¡± or some such nonsense. Mell was getting the impression that most of what she knew of Gale was not flattering to her Etnfrandian standing. Well, she liked her this way: adventurous with a touch of spunk.


    The young she-elf hovered beside Fenn, her rich, coppery tonality a compliment to the sun-speckled forest. Mell smiled to herself and pushed through a patch of leaves erected on thin stalks, which clung to her as she passed. Finally, on the other side, a grove of narrow trees sporting long, shining leaves stood before them. Unlike the gnarled and bent one that comprised most of this forest, these had smooth bark broken by rings of spines where the leaves had once grown. She came to a halt, pleased that the hunt had ended. Fenn had been right, these were the trees. Near the top, clusters of pink fruit huddled in bunches, as if afraid.


    Afraid, she could see, of the strange winged creatures that swarmed in the treetops. They were not entirely unlike the club-tailed ones Fenn had dubbed clebshoth, but these had almost no tail at all, and their wings were spread like webs over the bone structure beneath, decorated by an angular texture as much like overlapping scales as feathers. They snatched the fruit in their long snouts, ripping them between sharp teeth. Mell cringed.


    ¡°Well, I think we found the fruit,¡± she pointed up, ¡°but does anyone have any clue what those¡­ dinosaur-bat-things are?¡±


    Fenn pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned toward them. ¡°Ah,¡± he shook a finger in the air, ¡°those. Those would be the reason the pixies won¡¯t harvest the fruit themselves. They''re an omnivorous reptile in the shoth family. Well, a Faerie reptile, which is not the same thing as a Trueplane one. These are warm-blooded and tend to¨C¡±


    Mell shot him a warning look and he cut short his ramble. I suppose I did ask.


    ¡°Anyway, they were once used to drive out especially troublesome pixie colonies. There was a whole comedy about it in Olyvaer¡¯s Collection of Fae Folk Tales.¡±


    ¡°Omnivorous, huh?¡± She grimaced. ¡°I don¡¯t really care to get bit myself.¡± She rubbed her hand at the thought of those needle-like teeth boring into her skin.


    ¡°I doubt they will bother us,¡± Fenn approached the bottom of the tree. ¡°They don¡¯t seem to mind us now.¡±


    He was right. None of the creatures had spared them a glance as they squawked to one another. Still, she had her doubts.


    Fenn reached up and gripped the trunk, prepared to shimmy up the tree. It was over twice his height, but no more than thrice. He may be able too¡­


    ¡°Not so fast.¡± Krid gently pulled him away by the collar of his tunic in an undignified gesture. ¡°Stop volunteering for danger; that¡¯s what I¡¯m here for. I will bend it so one of you can cut down a clump.¡±


    Mell suppressed a smile. The Captain made a valid point, but by Lorthen was he direct.


    Krid scanned the grove, then shifted to a shorter tree a few feet over. Watching him reach up felt like watching a snake uncoil itself, his form unfurling to a surprising length. He grasped it as high as he could and pulled. At first, the tree bent easily, then it resisted. The reptilian bats squealed and screeched, flashing their teeth as they shifted around the tree for balance. But they made no move toward him. Mell chewed her lip, anxious. Krid worked his hands higher up and pulled again, this time beginning to lift himself just slightly off the ground.


    Crack. The sound erupted from the tree as it bent a few more inches.


    At once, the whole forest attacked. The sky darkened to near dusk as the trees creaked and crowded around. They loomed overhead with branches pointing toward them in menacing wrath. A sudden wind kicked up, and the flying creatures took to the air. They screeched and swirled in a swarm around them. Gale¡¯s scream split through the rush of wind.


    Mell dropped and raised her hands over her head, the dread of those tiny teeth possessing her. She should have feared the talons. They pulled at her cloak and hair, tearing at them. Cuts burned like splinters, and her heart rattled inside her chest. Nearby, Krid growled, and Mell heard a creak and a thud.


    It stopped as suddenly as it started. The trees straightened. The wind slowed. The critters circled slowly, then landed in the treetops. Mell took a deep, calming breath and surveyed the others. Syrdin, ever one to appear in dire moments, stood beside her, zheir daggers held in a defensive stance. Krid had released the tree, and it had settled upright again. Galendria was unharmed, huddled in a squat on the ground, hands over her delicate ears.


    Mell shifted her gaze over to Fenn, who remained frozen in hesitation. He met her eyes. His were wide open, like her mouth. His expression conveyed, Was that what I think it was?


    Mell nodded, closing her mouth. Collective Sentience. The forest itself had reacted to the pain of one tree.


    ¡°What in the Arsdark was that?¡± Syrdin spat.


    Krid growled again. ¡°Are those birds magic, or did I just find a dust devil in a forest?¡±


    ¡°Well, technically everything here is magical. That is the nature of the Faeworld.¡± Though his hands shook as he straightened his glasses, Fenn¡¯s words were a little too matter-of-fact. He was met with glares. ¡°But I believe this was an excellent example of how the interconnection between the living creatures within the Fae can behave a lot like an anamalian nervous system, causing a pain reflex when any one part is hurt.¡±


    ¡°And in Allspeach?¡± Krid chuckled.


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    ¡°You gave the forest a boo boo, and it didn¡¯t like it.¡± Syrdin¡¯s tone was serious, but Mell knew from experience that zhe was half-joking. Zhe turned to Fenn. ¡°So, no more hurting or breaking things?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he nodded. ¡°nothing alive.¡±


    Unfortunately for them, everything was alive.


    ¡°But Fenn, what if something hurts us first?¡± Concern laced Galendria¡¯s question.


    Fenn opened his mouth, but no words came out. ¡°Ermm.¡±


    Mell could guess what Galendria feared. ¡°If those pixies hurt anyone again, we will hurt them back. If the forest doesn¡¯t like it, well tough.¡± Mell gave Fenn a hard look. ¡°Same goes for anything else.¡± She faced the yuka trees, then turned to the members of their group. Their eyes were on her, not Fenn.


    Fine. She nodded Syrdin toward the tree. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Without another word, Syrdin leapt between two trees, using one to launch zhemself higher on the other. Zhe reached the canopy in a few bounds and pulled a dagger. Deft as a leopard, zhe chopped down two fruit clusters while Fenn and Krid scrambled to catch them as they fell. No wind. No towering trees.


    One of the reptilian creatures screeched and swooped at Syrdin. Zhe ducked it easily and dropped down from the tree, landing crouched on both feet. ¡°There. Got them.¡±


    ¡°Impressive!¡± Krid might have clapped if his hands were not full of fruit.


    Mell sighed in relief. ¡°Thanks Syd.¡± That could have gone much worse. ¡°Let¡¯s head back.¡±


    <hr>


    Galendria


    Gale thought the sun sat lower in the sky, even just a tiny bit, when they strode toward the Pixie hollow, their newfound yuka bunches in hand. Fenn fidgeted as they approached, his steps slow and halting. She couldn¡¯t blame him. She felt a sense of dread about it, too.


    Then they crossed the line of bright mushrooms. Her mind was taken, for just a moment, with the magical beauty of the hollow: the loveliness of the low trees, the elegance of the sunlight as it dappled the mossy ground, and the warmth of the faint glow emitted by the pixies. Then she recalled the danger of it, shaking off the strange euphoric feeling. Fenn hesitated, and Mell took the lead.


    Gale didn¡¯t know the language, but she recognized the greeting from an old Art song. One didn¡¯t need to speak a language to sing it.


    ¡°Respectable pixies,¡± Mell called out in Faerish, ¡°mysch kennov dea yon yuka.¡± She held aloft the bundle of fruits. A dozen or so of the tiny terrors zipped out, pulling the cluster from Mell¡¯s hand. Gale shivered. These things may look cute, but¡­ she peeked at Fenn, eying the blood stain on his chest. He was smiling dumbly, gazing at the pixies.


    ¡°They¡¯re so beautiful,¡± he breathed in awe. ¡°I should sketch them!¡± He pulled out his notebook and began working.


    ¡°Fenn?¡± Gale stepped closer to him, leaning around from his side. He did not acknowledge her.


    She glanced around. Mell was still conversing with the pixies in Faerish. Syrdin was once again nowhere in sight. Krid stood at Fenn¡¯s shoulder. She peered into Fenn¡¯s face. His pupils were dilated and his lips were curved into a smile, far too broad.


    ¡°Krid,¡± Gale whispered, ¡°I think something¡¯s wrong with Fenn.¡±


    The giant lizard-man didn¡¯t respond. When she turned to him, his eyes, normally slitted like a cat¡¯s, were round and almost entirely black. Just the rim hinted at green. Her hands began to tremble. She placed one on Fenn¡¯s arm, gently disrupting his drawing.


    He beamed at her over his book. ¡°Aren¡¯t they just amazing, Gale?¡±


    A pixie¨Cthe butterfly one from before¨Cflew up and began to parade herself on the edge of his page, turning her hips in a bawdy display. He held up the book and giggled like a shameless child, then started speaking to her. Gale only understood the words ¡°beautiful¡± and ¡°graceful,¡± but it was enough to know he was flattering her. The pixie flew up into a little spin, giggling more. Gale¡¯s face burned. What, has he been fox-nipped, now? And by a pixie!


    More of them flew down from the trees and started circling him. Krid, too, was agape at the pixies. His mouth was open and he seemed to be breathing a smell.


    Gale shook Fenn¡¯s arm. ¡°Fenn, these things tried to kill you earlier. What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Relax, Gale, these creatures are too magnificent to be dangerous.¡± That euphoric smile only broadened.


    ¡°Mell,¡± Gale called, her panic rising, ¡°I think we have a problem.¡±


    The pixies danced about Fenn¡¯s head and zipped around his person.


    ¡°Just a second, they¡¯re giving me directions.¡± Mell sounded businesslike, not so much as turning her head.


    Some of the pixies began to lift Fenn¡¯s glasses. Gale swiped at them and waved them off. ¡°No! Stop that!¡± Anger began to mingle with her fear, alongside a bitterness she had no name for.


    The pixies released a cacophony of laughter, and though she couldn¡¯t be sure, Gale thought she saw one blow a raspberry at her.


    Fenn gasped, offended, and turned to Gale. ¡°Why would you do that? They were just having a bit of fun!¡±


    She gawked at him for a moment, overcome by the sting of that bitterness. Then the realization struck her, and though she had never seen it done, she knew.


    ¡°Mell, now! We must go! Fenn and Krid have been charmed!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Mell spun.


    Syrdin appeared from behind a tree. ¡°You heard Flower Power, it¡¯s time to go.¡± Pixies scattered in surprise as zhe grabbed Krid¡¯s elbow. ¡°Help me pull him out of here.¡±


    While Mell gave a polite bow to the pixies and joined Syrdin, Gale tugged Fenn by the arm that held his notebook. ¡°We¡¯re done playing with the nice pixies, time to go back to camp.¡± She tried to sound gentle, but when he didn¡¯t move, she heaved him with all her strength.


    ¡°But I¡¯d like to draw a few more of them.¡± He resisted her pull, trying to bring the page to his pencil. Gale glanced down at his drawing. Where there should¡¯ve been a little elf-like sprite with insect wings, she saw a goddess of an elf with magnificent, feathered wings and gorgeous, flowing locks that almost covered her. Gale flushed with a mix of horror and shame. Indecent.  He¡¯d have time to find that embarrassing later. Now, surrounded by the shrill laughter of the powerful little casters dancing about them, she heaved him to the edge of the hollow.


    He fought against her, scrabbling and flailing. An elbow jabbed her. It bruised her sternum and with it, her feelings as it knocked her back. She nearly let go, and the sudden shift in her weight sent Fenn tumbling. She swung him back, and he fell to the ground just outside the mushroom line. He blinked and shook his head. Anger clenched her fists, pain. Fear. Hurt.


    He didn¡¯t know what he was doing, she tried to reassure herself.


    She spared a glance for the others. Mell and Syrdin had managed to drag Krid out. It seemed he had struggled, too, and much more effectively. Syrdin was holding Krid¡¯s sword, and one of his axes was in his hand. He took Mell¡¯s order to leave easily.


    A pixie wailed her disappointment and tossed her glittering dust at Fenn. Gale stepped in the way and felt a wave of that euphoria hit her. The world glowed like amber lamps at night: golden, warm. The pretty pixie beckoned her invitingly. No. She held her head as the feeling clawed at her, then released.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Fenn was blinking at her from the ground, his glasses askew.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting you out of here,¡± she pulled him up.


    He no longer resisted, but he did not follow quickly either. He looked around, feet barely moving. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Later!¡± Galendria spat. Through tear-blurred eyes, she could see pixies hovering across the edge of their village, eager. Whether they were eager to catch the last of their entertainment, or to follow, she did not care to find out. ¡°Run!¡±


    She finally pulled Fenn into a trot. One of the pixies tossed a little spear at them, and Gale squeaked in fright¨Cmuch to the pixies¡¯ pleasure. To the sound of their laughter, she doubled her pace. Fenn in tow, she rushed headlong into thickets of underbrush. Thanks to Beauty, the pixies did not follow.

 Chapter 12: What Kind of Creature?

    Before reading, please see the trigger warnings in the pre-chapter author note.


    The Kravtic Dwarves are a sturdy people native to the mountains around the Silver Lakes. Though their culture may seem cruel and gruff next to most of Hethbarn¡¯s, it has largely developed due to an extensive history of war with the Night Elves. Their existence proves crucial to the stability of modern Hethbarn because they serve as a barrier between the greater continent and the clans of Night Elves living beneath the mountains. In addition, they supply the majority of precious metals and gems across the continent.


    Understanding Hethbarn''s History


    by Bremond Hillcrest, UE 2339


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    They returned to the mostly packed camp with no further harm than embarrassment. Syrdin tucked away the incident in zheir memory. As long as zhe was around these folks, zhe would never let them live this down. It was too laughable.


    Krid stomped around the grassy clearing, not understanding. After everyone had answered him ¡°the pixies¡± a few times each, he¡¯d finally given up asking what creature he¡¯d seen.


    But not Fenn. He sat with his head in his hands, groaning as Mell and the flower girl finished exacting every detail. He was right to be embarrassed. For the drake, it made sense; but as an elf, Fenn should have been resistant to their charms. Yet he had been the first taken. Even Mell had not fallen victim¨Ca fact that probably had something to do with the catalyst crowning her head.


    ¡°But did we get directions, at least?¡± His notebook was open on his lap, and Syrdin glimpsed over his shoulder. The magnificent woman on the page appeared nothing like the portly little creature that had been harassing him. Zheir lips twisted in amusement, a silent sneer.


    ¡°Now, see, that¡¯s nothing like what I saw,¡± Krid pointed to the page. ¡°They were thickly built and had the most vibrant scales.¡± There was a longing in the way he spoke.


    ¡°Scales?¡± Fenn perked up, forgetting his shame in a moment of curiosity. ¡°Could you describe it more precisely?¡±


    Krid¡¯s head tilted in thought and his transparent lids slid sideways over his eyes. ¡°They were thick around their chests,¡± he gestured around his armored bosom, ¡°and had bright eyes, long horns, and colorful scales.¡±


    ¡°Like dragonfolk?¡± Fenn glanced up from the sketch he¡¯d begun outlining, ¡°but with horns?¡±


    ¡°No, much prettier! More like some offspring of a dragon and a nymph! Certainly the most gorgeous creature I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± He declared it as a fact, though Syrdin did not see the appeal of such a creature. Then Krid appended, ¡°I only mean most beautiful aside from my wife, of course.¡± He wasn¡¯t even a shade embarrassed to say that so bluntly. To him, that was just another fact.


    Syrdin squatted on some lumpy roots nearby and peeled a yuka zhe had snatched from the bunches. Obviously, the charm had affected their perceptions of the pixies, a common Faerie trick. Fenn kept on scribbling. He should know this much. Syrdin shook zheir head. Zhe knew the Etnfrndians no longer practiced magic. Yet, Fenn was supposed to have dedicated his life to studying the enchantments of the Fae. Perhaps only the Night Elves still remembered the old ways: of societies built on magic and trickery, beauty and charm.


    Zhe sighed and slouched into a shadowy nook between roots. Zhe took a bite of the fruit. It was soft, sweet, and surprisingly dry inside. As zhe reflected, zhe realized zhe had yet to see Fenn wield magic that was not pinned on an item. Even his shocking spell had been channeled through someone¡¯s sword. His knowledge was mostly theoretical, then. Useless. More and more, Syrdin got the impression that Mell was the only one of the bunch with a true spark of intelligence. The drakeman was skilled in both battle and teamwork, but the Etnfrandians¡­


    ¡°To get back on topic,¡± Mell was taking the lead again, thankfully, ¡°I did get directions, however reliable they may be.¡± She sat across from Fenn, with Krid still at his shoulder and Galendria nearby starting the camping stove.


    ¡°Thanks to Beauty,¡± Fenn sighed. ¡°Where do we go?¡±


    ¡°Again, I¡¯m not sure if this is good information, but they pointed us that way, sideways from today.¡± Mell gritted her teeth. ¡°Judging by how happy they were about it, I¡¯d guess it¡¯s a trap. After all, the deal only required them to listen. But that''s all we have.¡±


    Fenn grimaced, finally realizing his ineptitude in handling the pixies.


    Galendria inserted herself into the conversation from her place at the stove. ¡°Well, what did they say exactly? It could be a riddle.¡±


    Syrdin¡¯s nose wrinkled like zhe smelled something foul. Zhe hated it, but the doe-eyed she-elf had good instincts. Fae creatures loved riddles. There was at least one in every legend.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good point. Let¡¯s see,¡± Mell mused. ¡°It¡¯ll be easier to translate into Elvish.¡±


    Galendria nodded and stopped her stoking, waiting patiently. Fenn leaned forward with anticipation, dipping his fountain pen.


    ¡°Go to the lake. In the deep of the water where the light barely reaches, a mighty creature lives. Ask him the way¨Cor, no, he can lead the way.¡± Mell¡¯s attention was focused on the distance. ¡°Fenn, how would you translate ¡®in the water¡¯s depths where but one ray reaches¡¯?¡±


    Syrdin¡¯s attention snapped into focus.


    Fenn scratched his head. ¡°Your translation is pretty good. The Faerish implies a single ray of sunlight.¡±


    It was an idiom, of course. Just enough light to see color, like the last ray of the setting sun at dusk. Syrdin bit zheir tongue. Zhe wanted to ask which word for creature was used. But then zhe would expose zhemself as learned, and in the Fae tongues no less. As a Night Elf, it was a gamble enough to be around highlanders, even if the colonies in Brikhvarnn provided a strong enough cover for Mell and possibly Fenn to accept zhem. Zheir learning would betray something else: an advanced education among the Dark Cavern¡¯s temples. It would be as good as announcing, hey, Hethbarn¡¯s number one enemy has a member in your midst, regardless of the truth. Not exactly welcome news.


    No, zhe would let Mell fan the embers of the other elves¡¯ intelligence into a flame.


    The drakeman huffed behind them. The entire conversation was lost to him.


    ¡°Sorry, Krid,¡± Fenn turned to him, ¡°we might be speaking Elvish for a while yet.¡±


    Syrdin smelled an opportunity to escape. Zhe hopped up from zheir tree roots, tossing aside zheir empty peel. ¡°Come on, Captain. That stove requires a wood-burning fire, right?¡± Zhe gestured to the collapsible metal box Galendria had abandoned. ¡°If we can find a source of wood that won¡¯t throw the forest into a fit, we¡¯ll have a lot less to carry on our journey.¡±


    Krid grinned his jagged smile. ¡°Anything but listening to them big-noggins babbling nonsense.¡±


    Syrdin chuckled as zhe relaxed back into the dense brush outside of camp, comforted by the presence of endless hiding places. Big-noggins. The dragonfolk came up with the best terms. ¡°If they¡¯re big-noggins, what do you call us physical types?¡±


    ¡°Depends. I¡¯d be a vira¡¯kjum¡ªa shield-arm, or warrior. You?¡± His smile curled upwards, exposing his pale gums. ¡°Shai¡¯akhim.¡±


    Syrdin¡¯s brow furrowed. ¡°But what¡¯s that mean?¡±


    Kridarnn kept on walking in long, heavy strides, ducking the lowest bows.


    ¡°Hey now, drake,¡± Syrdin had to walk double-time to keep pace, ¡°what did you call me?¡±


    He stopped and peered down at Syrdin, who was roughly half his height, his lips still curled. ¡°Translates something like,¡± he scratched his chin in a large, dramatic gesture, and then leaned down and whispered, ¡°Gut-spiller.¡±


    Syrdin squinted and took a confused step backward. ¡°What?¡±


    The drakeman chuckled his throaty laughter. ¡°It¡¯s a pun. You spill guts with your knife, and spill others¡¯ secrets with your work.¡±


    Syrdin felt a smile twitch at zheir cheek despite zhemself. That¡¯s one way to describe mercenary work. He wasn¡¯t wrong, really. Just taking it lightly. Then again, gut-spilling was a very graphic image. Zhe let the humor roll off of zhem.


    ¡°I think,¡± the drakeman continued more seriously, ¡°the manfolk call it a spy.¡± He rumbled again. ¡°It¡¯s a good pun, right?¡±


    Syrdin allowed zhemself a smile and shook zheir head, a gesture more of incredulity than disapproval. ¡°It¡¯s not a real term, is it?¡±


    The drakeman had stopped, mouth open as his snout worked the thick air. He looked down at Syrdin. ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± he answered, ¡°we Brikhvarnni only make fun of what we like. Your people can do what we can¡¯t, so we hire you and make jokes.¡±


    Syrdin was taken aback by the sincerity of his response. It was a real term, alright. Zhe had never lived among the Brikhvarnni, but zhe found zhemself half-wishing zhe had. If Krid was any indication, they were decent folk.


    ¡°We should get busy,¡± zhe started poking around in the vibrant brush for loose sticks. ¡°Seems like we¡¯re going to have a tough time finding anything dead or flammable in this place.¡± Zhe had not realized, but the Wildlands, or this part at least, were not only lush but appeared to lack death and decay altogether. A Trueplane forest had sticks, stones, rotting leaves, and the shells of dead bugs and snails. This was all green¨Cwell, blue actually¨Call alive, all snaking patches of tall grass winding between clusters of dense, leafy underbrush. The dirt could only be seen if you lifted a low-lying leaf or parted the grass.


    Krid didn¡¯t respond, nose up in the air. He started walking. ¡°I smell old wood this way.¡±


    Syrdin pressed after him. Must be nice having an acute sense of smell.


    ¡°You know,¡± Krid still stared straight ahead. ¡°You can take a joke from me. Even make some talk. Why not the other elves?¡±


    Notice that, did he? ¡°I fail to see what skills have given them merit in your eyes.¡± It was an appeal to his Brikhvarnni values. Honor was a thing earned through skill. If he truly cares about his comrades'' aptitudes, he won¡¯t be able to argue with that.


    ¡°Mmm,¡± he rumbled. ¡°I respect their skills, even if those are strange to me.¡±


    Syrdin scrunched zheir nose. ¡°What capabilities?¡± Zhe immediately regretted asking. The Captain had led zhem into this topic, and Syrdin was no follower. Zhe needed to wrestle for control of their conversation. Or just stop talking.


    Krid scratched his spiney chin. ¡°Fenn pointed me to a career in the military. He convinced me there was nothing wrong with working within my own strengths, no matter what others think of it. I had to be the best of myself. He is clever in that way.¡±


    Syrdin scoffed and batted away a swarm of fluorescent bugs. Telling someone to act against their society''s norms didn¡¯t require much cleverness, especially as an outsider. For it to have gone well was a reflection on Krid¡¯s willpower and ability, not Fenn¡¯s.


    ¡°You disagree, but you do not know. I know something secret of yours, so I will tell you something of mine. When I was only a recruit, I rescued Fenn from the desert sun.¡±


    Syrdin laughed. Zhe couldn¡¯t help it. What a meet-cute. ¡°You aren¡¯t helping his case.¡±


    ¡°That was only the beginning. He sheltered with my squad while he went out on missions to seek out your people, the Brikhvarnni Dark-Elf newts. We spoke often and began to speak even of bloodclan¨Cfamily. I told him my troubles: that my bloodclan did not approve of my choice and that I would be forced to return if I did not duel for my right. When I tell you that he did not hesitate to offer himself as my second, I mean it. He jumped from his seat to do so.¡±


    Syrdin squinted. His second? Krid must have meant his partner in those Brikhvarnni two-on-two duels. They were strange. Anyone could fight their way back into honor as long as they had a witness to partner with them. Zhe couldn¡¯t picture Fenn being eager to fight for anything.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°And he did fight at my back, and we won.¡± Krid chuckled, a wistful smile on his face. ¡°I will admit to you that he does not plan well, or speak well, or fight well. He is okay with a crossbow and a short sword, but that is not much. But he sees,¡± Krid tapped his chest as he emphasized sees, ¡°and he cares well. He is loyal. I owe him for that.¡±


    Syrdin huffed. Caring never took anyone I knew anywhere but the grave.


    ¡°Besides, I hear he learns and writes well. That¡¯s important outside of Brikhvarnn, isn¡¯t it?¡± Krid stopped walking. ¡°And the Princess, as you call her¡­¡±


    Syrdin rolled zheir eyes.


    ¡°...She is able to do things with magic like I have never seen before. She creates something from nothing. That is special. And she has the fierceness a woman needs.¡± Krid nodded his head vigorously. ¡°Yes, I think she¡¯s good for Fenn.¡±


    He had a point. Galendria wielded a type of magic Syrdin had rarely seen. Never among zheir own people, though perhaps in a Wood Elf. It made little sense next to Fenn¡¯s lack of talent. Still, that did not make up for her entitled attitude or the way she inserted herself into everything. She assumed her importance to everyone. ¡°Why have you stopped walking?¡±


    ¡°Because we¡¯re here.¡±


    Syrdin surveyed their surroundings. Nothing was dead here. Rather, the nearest tree, smaller than the others, was especially vibrant. Its leaves fluttered softly, their waxy sheen reflecting the too-bright sun. Fluttering. The other trees were unmoving; the wind still. Syrdin stepped forward. Zhe squinted, face less than a handbreadth from a stem. At the base of one of the leaves, a vein took a step. Syrdin blinked.


    These aren¡¯t leaves.


    Zhe lifted a hand to the branch. A tentative finger tapped it. No sooner had zheir finger brushed the bark than the leaves of that branch rattled. They shifted hues from blue, to green, to an angry red, and then scattered off the branch, dropping to the ground as Syrdin leaped away.


    On the rest of the branches, the ¡°leaves¡± began to quiver. Syrdin snatched zheir dagger, but there was no need. They settled back down. The ones that had ¡°fallen¡± gathered themselves and marched back toward the short ¡°tree.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like the rockbug.¡± Krid grinned, bending over a shrub to inspect the ¡°tree.¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± Syrdin sidestepped, rounding the tree opposite Krid.


    ¡°A bug that looks like small rocks. They catch smaller bugs and lizards by surprise. When you scare them, they go running, and it looks like a tiny landslide. It¡¯s very fun for young dragonfolk. I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Ah, those.¡± Syrdin forced zheir wince into a knowing nod.


    Without further testing, Krid shook the trunk. The leaves quivered, turned their angry red, then flew off the small tree. They swirled through the air, as though riding an invisible breeze, and whirled in a flourished twist around Krid before they blew away.


    Any sense of danger Syrdin should have felt was dampened by the simple beauty of it. Zhe blinked a few times. ¡°Well, good thing they weren¡¯t stinging bugs.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡± Krid pulled the trunk, breaking it off with a hollow crack. ¡°Very good thing.¡±


    By some good fortune, the forest was not offended by this break. Syrdin shook zheir head. Even the drakeman, whom zhe could respect, relied too much on blind luck. And too much on his faith in other people. Oh, realization struck Syrdin. He led the conversation to try and build my faith in the others. He wanted teamwork.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    Galendria sighed and shifted her position on the blanket so that she sat on her other hip. Her legs were beginning to tingle and ache without a cushion to sit on. She sat at one corner of a triangle shared with Mell and Fenn amidst their camp of two bright, familiar tents and a layered, tan one of a rounded fashion. The two people in her company were now worrying over what kind of creature might live in the lake.


    This debate over the pixies¡¯ riddle had stretched on beyond its season, and their conclusion might as easily have been that mountains are tall and their caves dangerous. In plain language, they intended to follow the pixies¡¯ directions despite the obvious risk. It was foolish, but one could only hope to find a mountain¡¯s roots by searching its caves. If they wanted to find creatures here, they had to search where creatures gathered: a watering hole. Now they knew where to find one. Plus, if Krid approved, a watering hole could make a good camp base while they made expeditions outward daily like Fenn had originally planned.


    She stifled a yawn and tried to be subtle when she rubbed a sleepy crumb from her eye. She was tired. Tired from walking, from new wonders and new birdsong, new beasts and new fears, new peoples and new emotions; all of it new. Overwhelming. She was so tired that she hadn¡¯t raised her concerns with their plan to find the lake. The more minor concern was that she would have no change of clothes if she got wet. More importantly, they were going to find a monster that, at the moment, they were only guessing the identity of. Fenn claimed this place was dangerous, and as he riffled through pages of large-clawed monstrosities, she believed him.


    She regarded Fenn with concern as he flipped the page to the ¡°Pha¡± section of his Index of Magical Beasts. In spite of the blood dried on his shirt and the mixed successes and failures of the day, he seemed¡­ fine, absorbed in the study. I hope we find someone¨Cor something¨Celse to ask along the way.


    To the hissing of insects and loud rustling of grass, Syrdin and Krid broke through the brush into camp. Syrdin held a handful of sticks, but Krid carried a thin, hollow log. She was almost relieved by the interruption.


    Fenn jumped up to inspect it, circling them like a curious puppy. ¡°Where did you find this?¡±


    Krid showed his pointed, reptilian teeth in a too-wide smile. ¡°You¡¯d go book-brain for it. I sniffed it out, but there were little leafy bugs all over it so it looked like a bush. And when we tapped it, they all went flying in a little army. But it was unlike the yuka. Nothing cared when I broke the trunk from the ground.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Fenn ran to a small, painted trunk and pulled out a single eyeglass. He leaned over the log, inspecting it. ¡°What else? Did the bugs seem magical? Did they swarm you? Were there more nearby?¡± He ran a finger around the inside of the log. ¡°Oh, look! It¡¯s been intentionally hollowed out!¡±


    Gale smiled. She didn¡¯t care about the insects, but seeing Fenn get excited made her happy. He¡¯d been reserved and awkward these past years in Etnfrandia. This excitable Fenn reminded her more of the elfling she¡¯d known who would talk endlessly about something he¡¯d read in a book.


    She started placing sticks under the stove as Krid and Fenn kept on talking about the ¡°leaf-mantis¡± nest. She glanced up to see Syrdin ducking toward a tent.


    ¡°And where are you going?¡± she called out to the little creature. To her best knowledge, Syrdin was a career thief. Gale did not like the idea of it¨Cher?--stealing away and rifling through Fenn¡¯s belongings unobserved. The others hardly glanced over from their conversation. Why am I the only one worried about this?


    Syrdin shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m not needed out here, and I should probably keep watch later when you all get tired of,¡± her hand flicked disdainfully toward the group, ¡°chatting.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t keep watch the whole time,¡± Krid turned from Fenn¡¯s questions to make the sharp command, ¡°That¡¯s too long for one person.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Mell added, ¡°but before anyone rests, I think we are going to need to rethink the tenting situation. I don¡¯t mean to assume the limits of Gale¡¯s powers, but we don¡¯t need her wasting energy every time she wants to take a nap. There¡¯s three tents. I think we could squeeze everyone into them.¡±


    [Trigger Warnings Sart]


    Gale flushed, both embarrassed to need the help after she invited herself along and also grateful. Her creations didn¡¯t last long enough for her to rest properly under one. Then she felt her stomach tighten. Three tents. Four of us will have to share in pairs of two. She did not enjoy the idea of sleeping next to someone she barely knew. And sharing with Fenn would¡­ not be right. Of the women, there were only Mell and Syrdin, and she wasn¡¯t positive about Syrdin. She only assumed because of how comfortable Mell was with her¡­ him¡­ ¡°zhem?¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t mind, but I doubt anyone should want to share with me.¡± Krid rumbled, something she was learning was an amused sound. ¡°Not unless he wants to have a tail in his face. Even your elvish double tents are too small.¡± His tail slithered back and flicked behind him, as if indignant at the insult.


    Galendria tried not to shiver at the eerie sentience of the movement. She had, so far, not looked long at it, but his tail was an indigo blue, like his head and back, and had rounded, stone-like spines down the center, their tips a sandy yellow. She would not wish for Fenn to wake with that across his face. She pictured him emerging every morning weary and bruised. Even if it was right for the boys to share, she could not ask it of Fenn.


    ¡°But I suppose that was never a thought. It is obvious the couple should share.¡± Krid finished his thought in all sincerity.


    The couple? He means us?!


    A wave of shock rippled through Gale, the impropriety ricocheting in her mind. Either the drakeman was an indecent creature, or he was just animal enough not to know the difference between a pending contract and a fulfilled one. In any case, that was not the way of things. She glanced at Fenn, noting that he, too, blushed. The purple shade crossed his nose and crept up to his ears. It was eye-catching. For the briefest moment, she wondered what it might be like to see that blush up close in private. She scolded away the thought.


    ¡°Th-th-no,¡± Fenn was blinking rapidly. He seemed to have forgotten how to speak. ¡°T-that won¡¯t do. It¡¯s not right.¡± He hesitated, then added, ¡°for Etnfrandians. We¨CI can¡¯t share with a female, nor she with a male.¡±


    What does he mean ¡°for Etnfrandians?¡± It was downright improper! Do other societies not think the same? She had heard that humans populated rapidly. Perhaps there was more to it than their brief lifespans. She was thankful Fenn remembered the Etnfrandian ways enough to blush at the thought of sharing a tent.


    Krid snorted. ¡°She¡¯s not just some female. She¡¯s your betrothed! The backwards way of the elves makes no sense.¡± He puffed out his frustration and worked at breaking apart his log.


    Backwards ways? Gale gaped.


    Syrdin cleared her¨Ctheir¨Cthroat. ¡°If ¡®her majesty¡¯ can accept it, I don¡¯t mind sharing with Fenn.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true. I suppose Syrdin and I could share.¡± Fenn was scratching at his temple under the arm of his glasses.


    She gawked. He¡¯s uncomfortable¡­ Just uncomfortable?!


    Outraged, she wobbled to her feet, which she quickly discovered were half-numb from sitting on them. ¡°Now wait a moment, that depends on what you are, man or woman.¡± She shot ¡°zhem¡± her meanest glare, and Syrdin met it, the tension between them palpable like the air before a storm.


    Even if ¡°zhe¡± wasn¡¯t a woman, Galendria hated the idea. Zhe had pulled a dagger on Gale before they¡¯d even properly met. For all she knew, Syrdin could attack Fenn. It¨Che¨Ccould rob him of everything, then escape back through the Door. Everyone else could pretend that Syrdin¡¯s mysterious aura and unfriendly demeanor were perfectly acceptable, but she would not.


    Fenn and Mellark exchanged wide-eyed looks of horror. A chill passed in the air, though no breeze stirred the leaves. Galendria set her jaw. She knew she was missing something about Syrdin. They¡¯ll just have to tell me what it is.


    Syrdin¡¯s head swiveled around the group, taking them in one at a time, and came to rest on Galendria. Pale orbs glowed from the hood¡¯s shadow, sending ice shooting down her veins.


    ¡°Depends on,¡± Syrdin hissed, ¡°what I am?¡±


    Galendria swallowed.


    ¡°I am nothing.¡± Their voice seemed to slice the air itself. ¡°Nothing. Not to you. Or to anyone.¡±


    The tension prickled like frost on her skin. Gale¡¯s mouth hung half-open, but no response came to her. Nothing? It made no sense. Did they not have¡­? Galendria shivered. This was something different than someone between genders: not a once-boy or once-girl who grew up to behave as the other, or some other unique personage.


    Nothing.


    Fenn cleared his throat. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know Syrdin well, I do trust Mell¡¯s judgment about zhem. The most practical arrangement is for Syrdin and I to share.¡± Fenn¡¯s eyes were on Gale, pleading with her. ¡°Besides, Galendria, I trust you and Mell to get along.¡±


    Gale clenched her teeth. She didn¡¯t like anything about how this had gone. Yet, after the hostility she¡¯d just felt, she got the feeling that if Syrdin meant Fenn harm, ¡°zhe¡± would have already struck.


    The creature disappeared into the tent that stored most of Fenn¡¯s stuff without another word.


    Gale gazed between the others. Nothing? ¡°What did¡­?¡± The question died there, incomplete as it was.


    Mell sighed and got up. ¡°I think I¡¯m done for today.¡±


    Fenn stared an absently at Gale, brow creased. He rubbed his mouth with one hand, deep in thought.


    It was the so-called drakeman who spoke up. ¡°Zheir people are in a terrible war and both sides do horrors to their captives. Those who survive have suffered as no other people have, other than perhaps their assailants. If it is your betrothed¡¯s faithfulness you are worried about, I wouldn¡¯t. I would not consider Syrdin a threat to this family agreement of yours. It says much that zhe continues with the identity of the bereft long after freedom. No, zhe is not your rival.¡± Then, he bared his teeth in what Gale guessed was a grin. ¡°Nor do I consider that one any competition for you.¡± Then he winked with real, scaled eyelids.


    She was shaken, for a moment, by the fact that he could close his eyes. Then his words sunk in. Horrors? Captives? Not a threat to family¡­ bereft.  It was vague, but the openness of his words only allowed her mind to create unspeakable scenarios. Families ripped apart. Towns ravaged. Farms and orchards burned. Generations of art destroyed. Captives tortured, mutilated. Things she had only heard of in the legends of the Night Elves attacks. Could it be true?


    ¡°Fenn?¡± Gale turned to him.


    He dropped his hands. ¡°Krid¡¯s right. Zhe probably has suffered an unfair amount. And lost everything and more, a time or two. We can¡¯t expect zhem to be what an Etnfrandian would consider ¡®normal.¡¯ Certainly not polite.¡±


    Gale pursed her lips like she¡¯d bitten into a sour apple. Not normal was an understatement. At least she¡¯d finally figured out what zhem meant.


    Nothing.


    She felt queasy. The world she had lived in had already been expanded well beyond her wildest imaginings today. Now, it festered and rotted around her with violence and maiming. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to go to bed.¡±

 Chapter 13: Mysteries and Magic

    The others saw the good work of the Children of Sun, and took inspiration. Naude sculpted her elves among the clouds, and from them were born a people ever wandering. Curious and playful, they were, and ever full of imagination.


    Dervalia, ever wailing, put her tears into a people of sober mind and solemn temperament. And these were responsible for the first notations, both of word and song, and for the first [epics] and [oral] traditions that are still sung among elves to this day.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    Edits by Tudious Spacklebottom


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    Fenn stoked the ashes underneath the stove with one of Syrdin¡¯s sticks. It was an easier task this ¡°morning¡± than stoking his mind. Every spark that sputtered there jumped from studying the crystal artifact to one of a hundred worries.


    He stared at the notebook in his lap, but, for once, the urge to grab a quill escaped him. He could not even be bothered to cast his true-seeing spell to study the artifact. He had written the spell based on his copy of runes from an old trinket. He and Gale had discovered it as children, though he no longer knew what had happened to the thing.


    Gale. Will she be alright? His mind-sparks leaped again. If he had been overwhelmed the first time he had left Etnfrandia for just Hethbarn, she must feel lost. This was the Faeworld, where danger lurked in the beauty of the poppies, the laughter of the pixies, and the dancing of the trees. He glanced at her quiet tent. She didn¡¯t seem lost.


    His stoking finally started a small fire under the stove, and he set some oats to boil. He returned again to his notebook and the symbol of Lorthen forming on the page. Gale¡¯s father had seen that on Mell¡¯s forehead. He wondered if the Ceann had known what it meant.


    He sighed. The probably-former Ceann would be under severe scrutiny, and it was his fault. At least the man had nothing to hide other than Gale¡¯s book on magic, so his job would be the only thing he¡¯d lose. Still, when this was over, he wouldn¡¯t have the power to help Gale escape the consequences of her actions. Not that she could¡¯ve returned anyway. Only the HighFather herself could pardon them for attacking an Everguard.


    Yes, if she had ever wanted a normal Etnfrandian life, she had made a huge mistake. Even a hundred years after their adventure, her return home would not be allowed, much less welcome. With her magical abilities, she¡¯d have no problem growing her own orchard in Hethbarn, so to speak. Not that she had ever wanted that. Nor was she prepared.


    The oats roiled in front of him, agitated by the flames and heat. Gale was naive. Her questions to Syrdin the prior day proved it. Even after their quest, he would need to mind her¨Cat least for a while. Otherwise, she might just be killed by a troll or robbed by goblins.


    He leaned forward, running his fingers through his hair. His thoughts had gone to Gale again. She had insisted on helping, on following him. Why? It was time to consider a serious concern: she may actually be in love with him. He would never have believed it possible except that Mell insisted it was so. Without that complication, the group¡¯s relations were already muddled. He was the only connection most of them had to each other, aside from Syrdin, who was only known to Mell. If he damaged his relationship to Gale now, she would be alone out here.


    He needed to be considerate of her until her feelings¨Cif they existed¡ªfaded. Seeing him in ¡°action¡± every day, he didn¡¯t doubt they would. Perhaps it would take years, but what were a few years to him? He had no other plans.


    Or, once she befriended Mell, he could simply tell her matroniages didn¡¯t exist outside Etnfrandia. If they passed through again, it would only be to testify at trial and receive exile. He¡¯d announce his findings, and that would be last he¡¯d see of that ignorant nation. He¡¯d have his answers; he¡¯d tell the world. It would all be as intended, only Gale had tagged along.


    There was nothing personal in breaking a matroniage that held no legal ground outside their home. Right? He had never agreed to marry her. Eight hundred years was a long time to live with anyone, even more a walking conundrum like her.


    A sharp sigh from the bow of a branch jolted him into recalling another riddle: Syrdin. He shook his head and pulled a little pouch out of his pocket. He¡¯d fetched it from his collection of magic baubles before sitting to prepare breakfast.


    ¡°Salt,¡± he whispered to it, holding it upside-down over a cupped hand. A few pinches of white granules fell out. He tossed it on the boiling oats.


    Syrdin was not far away, toying with a dagger as zhe lounged in the crook of a tree. The others were asleep. He could ask zhem. Be direct. He watched zhem flip the blade in zheir hand. He could do it, now. He clenched his fist, psyched up for the challenge. I can do it.


    The shadow of Syrdin¡¯s cowl turned toward him, eyes luminous with the glint of a trained killer.


    He looked away. Nope. Mell can do it.


    He had allowed problems he couldn¡¯t solve to assail him for long enough. He forced his mind onto problems he could: the artifacts. Lifting his pouch again, he commanded cinnamon into the oatmeal.


    He had spent a little time studying them the night before, and his sketches of the box¡¯s engravings sat splayed on his lap. They were tributes, for certain, to members of the Fae deities from before the Unification Era melted the pantheons of various nations into a lore both muddled and confused. While the complexity of the enchantments enthralled him, Fenn had come away disappointed that he could not discern more about their origins. The maker had not marked their name, though they were doubtless a master of masters.


    He had, however, determined its use. The crystal nested in the box wielded the power to scry and to spy across realms. In addition, the box¡¯s engravings were more than simply decorative. When the sides¡¯ designs were laid correctly on a page, they formed a symbol akin to Mell¡¯s headpiece. Runes rimmed the symbol in an ancient language he recognized as a root Faenic language, though he didn¡¯t understand it. On top of that, he had trouble identifying the magic energy attached to them. Logic provided it would be Knowledge, a subset of Moon belonging to Cialmara Lorthen. What the crystal and box did not provide was a hint at a god¡¯s history or location.


    ¡°I bet this stuff would be good in the sludge.¡±


    Fenn nearly dropped his notebook into the fire as he jumped up from his makeshift seat¨Chis trunk of baubles. Syrdin was next to him, peeling a yuka.


    ¡°Beauty¡¯s sake!¡± Fenn retrieved his notebook from the dirt. ¡°You scared me.¡±


    ¡°I noticed.¡± The statement was flat. ¡°You mind?¡± Zhe gestured the yuka over the oatmeal, a dagger in zheir other hand.


    Fenn glanced down at the bubbling oats congealing in the pot. ¡°Sure, that¡¯s fine.¡± He dusted off his book and set it aside. I can do this. ¡°So,¡± he swallowed hard, ¡°what makes you want to come with us?¡±


    ¡°With you?¡± Zhe chopped the fruit over the thickening meal. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    Fenn squinted at zhem. What? Then why¡ªThere was almost a hint of disgust there. Oh. With us. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve asked the wrong question. I meant why the Faeworld?¡±


    ¡°Meh,¡± zhe shrugged and pulled out another fruit. ¡°Shits and giggles.¡±


    Fenn scowled. Zheir delivery was once again flat, but this time with a trace of sardonic humor. It was an obvious deflection. Even he could tell. ¡°You must want something from here.¡±


    ¡°My artifact would be nice. Though if you want to be less immediate, I want the same things as everyone else.¡± A smirk grew in zheir voice.


    ¡°The same things?¡± He thought of the gods, the lost history, the magic, the truths he sought. ¡°What do you mean? The gods?¡±


    ¡°Dunno, you¡¯re the scholar. Didn¡¯t you learn philosophy in school or something?¡± The smirk-sound turned snide. Zhe flicked a clinging yuka piece off zheir dagger with a practiced motion. For an instant, he expected to see a smatter of blood fall over the pot.


    He had learned some philosophy, but it seemed like mentioning it would not help. Besides, all he had learned was that humans valued bonds, achievements, and some sense of posterity. He was uncertain how this compared to elves. Focus. He opened his mouth to press for a real answer, then closed it. He shook his head. There¡¯s no point. Zhe won¡¯t tell me.


    ¡°You got nutmeg in that magic pouch of yours?¡± Syrdin asked it like his prior attempt at conversation had never happened.


    ¡°Yes, I can ask it for any spice from Hethbarn.¡± Fenn dumped it into his hand. ¡°Nutmeg.¡± The little tan granules poured out. ¡°It took me ages to decipher the enchantment¨Cit was fairly early in my studies in artificery. I must have broken half a dozen similar pouches before I finally gave up exacting the location. It¡¯s quite wonderful. Whoever is making these connected them all to the same hidden inter-realm storage domain.¡±


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    Syrdin didn¡¯t so much as grunt in acknowledgement.


    Fenn sighed. This is going to be a long journey.


    ¡°So, my artifact?¡±


    He ogled the engraved box beside him. Selfishly, he wanted to hold on to them all. But they had an agreement. ¡°Yes, take your pick.¡±


    ¡°Hah,¡± zhe sheethed zheir dagger and crossed zheir arms. ¡°Not without knowing what they do.¡±


    Mell burst from her tent. ¡°Mmmm! Do I smell spices?¡±


    ¡°Cinnamon and Nutmeg.¡± Fenn scooped out a bowl and offered it to her. ¡°Want to be the first?¡±


    ¡°Yes, thank you.¡± Mell patted him on the head, then took the bowl. He supposed head pats were meant to be a friendly gesture. Sometimes he got the impression people just liked messing with his hair. The pastel-yellow strands sort-of stood where you left them. He took it kindly anyway.


    ¡°So?¡± Syrdin prompted.


    ¡°R-right, the artifacts.¡± He struggled to meet zheir gaze. It was too penetrating.


    ¡°Oh, are you picking?¡± Mell blew on a spoonful, ¡°I thought you¡¯d like the armored boots.¡±


    Fenn pulled them from his satchel. They were of beautifully polished dark steel. The greaves showed a feminine figure posed for battle in full armor, a glaive tip buried in the ground. Above, dark lines pointed down from what must be a sky. The top edge was trimmed in navy scrolls. Her hair, silver, curled as in the wind, mirroring the scrolls, with a twisting pattern etched into them.


    ¡°They aren¡¯t just decoration,¡± Mell continued over a mouthful, ¡±they are useful armor, but quieter. They¡¯ve been enchanted to make very little noise¨Ceven less than leather. We¡¯re not sure of the deity they depict, though. It¡¯s not someone either of us recognized. It seems she is associated with night, but it doesn¡¯t quite look like Dervalia. We thought it might be a pure representation of her from before the melding of cultures. It could be Skunyuv, but it doesn¡¯t depict stars. And Sabaed wouldn¡¯t be on something the Etnfrandians displayed.¡±


    Fenn was surprised Mell included that much information, but Syrdin didn¡¯t interrupt her. Zhe reached for the boots, meeting Fenn¡¯s gaze. ¡°What about the necklace?¡±


    Mell and Fenn shared a glance, eyebrows raised. Zhe is interested in the necklace?


    ¡°It adds to the innate charm of a person,¡± Fenn said, ¡°and makes them more appealing, I suppose. The Necklace of Beauty and Grace, by Mell¡¯s divination. Obviously, it¡¯s a tribute to Boidhan himself.¡± Fenn picked up the necklace by its chain and proffered it to Syrdin. ¡°I was hoping it was more than a tribute, but I have not found a direct connection to him, just his class of magic.¡±


    ¡°Are all of the artifacts like that?¡±


    He lowered the necklace after zhe didn¡¯t take it. ¡°Like that? Not connected to their god? It¡¯s hard to be certain. At very least, they all appear to be elvencraft enchanted with similar methods to those of modern artificers¨Cerm¨Cmagic engineers.¡± Zhe is interested?


    Syrdin tucked the boots under zheir arms. ¡°Hm.¡± Zhe stalked off without another word.


    Or not. Fenn turned to Mell. ¡°That must be the strangest elf on the face of Hethbarn. Where did you find zhem?¡±


    ¡°A tavern in Rockfall, actually. It¡¯d be more accurate to say zhe found me. I was asking around for a mercenary for hire, claiming it was a religious mission. Syrdin tapped me on the shoulder, and asked ¡®what mission?¡¯ and then what it had to do with Lorthen.¡± Mell tapped the emblem on her circlet. ¡°We got to talking after that. Of course I didn¡¯t explain everything, just that I was seeking artifacts hidden in another land.¡±


    Zheir motives for being here might be related to the artifacts, then. He stared after zhem. Even in simple tasks like tucking away belongings, zheir intense, deft movements intimidated him. Could zhe have more information?


    Fenn took a breath. ¡°Excuse me, Syrdin?¡±


    Syrdin jerked zheir head up from zheir magic bag where zhe had just stashed zheir boots. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Why did you want to know about the necklace?¡±


    Zhe shrugged, and for a moment, he thought zhe would not answer. ¡°When I looked at it yesterday, it had a strange draw.¡±


    Fenn held the necklace in his palm and fingered it gently. The pendant was simple, yet elegant, with silver elements interweaving over each other toward the center. A gold knot gave the appearance of tying them together. The design seemed to draw him in, pulling at his mind, his heart. Zhe was right, the draw felt unnatural. It was that magical appeal he had mentioned. He glanced over at the elf. A magical awareness. He shook his head.


    Gale wasn¡¯t the only one with a surprising aptitude for magic.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    They had a plan. When asked directly by Krid, Fenn had explained his designs to form a base camp and make short expeditions outward each day, studying in between. With that in mind, they hoped to find a suitable place near the watering hole¨Cso long as it proved safe.


    Now, packed up and marching, she let herself get caught up in the beauty of the place: the purple skies, the fantastical blue-hued leaves, the trees with their dark, earthy trunks tied with knots in their roots. She gazed up the trunk of one of what she could only describe as an enormous palm tree and grew dizzy as it nearly disappeared into the sky with an explosion of leaves. There were fewer of these than the low, gnarled ones; just enough to create a second, high canopy.


    The more time she spent in this place, the more alive it seemed. Ferns twitched when bugs settled on them, while the bugs seemed to meet, talk, and gawk as their group forged through the clusters of ferns. And the eyes. These were not particularly shadowed forests, but she swore she almost caught eyes staring from them every time she turned her head.


    Whether the eyes of a forest creature of mythos, or of a dryad, or even the homodryads of the trees themselves, I may never be sure, she composed in her head. For her memoir. She nodded to herself. She¡¯d have to write that down later.


    ¡°While we have time, we should discuss the artifacts,¡± Fenn interrupted her mental composing. He was right, and she committed her attention fully to his discourse.


    He explained first about the crystal. Apparently, the box¡¯s sides depicted her own god¡¯s symbol, only the details were different¨Colder. When he said older, her first assumption was that it would be simpler. Then he slipped her a page of the reconstructed emblem.


    Oh how presumptuous she¡¯d been to assume modernity meant advancement. The pointed-down triangle was looped with knots, and the swirled eye twisted in and out among them. She gaped, tracing her fingers over the page. A memory of Fenn bent over her library desk, sketching similar patterns for her based solely on recollections from his youth, resurrected in her mind. She had nearly forgotten it over the last six years. She smiled.


    ¡°...and it can be used for scrying the future as well as the present. Though about the former I am unsure. Correct me if I¡¯m wrong, Mell, but Cialmara is not in the business of fortune-telling is he? Not usually?¡±


    She lifted her fingers from the page. Cialmara and prophecy? ¡°No, not usually. Though I can use his powers for divination, so it is not a total departure from his magic. How far in the future are we considering?¡±


    Busy with his own musings, he didn¡¯t heed her. ¡°...Unless that is from the other god¡­ Lortin¡­ Lorfen¡ªno. What was it before the merge?¡±


    He meant the integration of the human God of Wisdom, Lorthen, and the Elven god of Knowledge, Cialmara. ¡°Lorthen, just in another language. But my question, Fenn?¡± It was ancient history to her, having occurred a thousand years ago. Odd that for him it was just a generation or two ago.


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± He raised a triumphant finger. ¡°And¡­how long? Perhaps a few days ahead at most¨Cand only snippets. It is not a powerful scrying spell. You see, the layering of the alphamatic runes atop the betramic couldn¡¯t possibly allow¡­¡±


    He took off, speaking his gibberish to any ears that would listen¨Cmostly his own. Novices who apprenticed as artificers or mages often expected magic runes to work like a language. They did, if you counted mathematics as a language. Mell did not. Fortunately, casting through a devine conduit didn¡¯t require extensive knowledge of runes¨Conly object enchantments required Fenn¡¯s level of understanding. Even in that expertise, he surpassed most masters.


    A flash of another pair of eyes set Mell spinning toward the trees. They were Syrdin¡¯s. They watched Fenn, listening and learning. For an instant, they locked onto Mell, then disappeared.


    Many times on their journey to Etnfrandia, Syrdin had conversed with Mell about magic and gods. Back then, Mell had dominated the conversation, encouraged by Syrdin¡¯s questions. Those had been pleasant evenings passed with brandy and wine. Now, Syrdin only listened from the shadows. Mell longed for zhem to step into the light and reveal zheir interest, zheir knowledge.


    They stopped only briefly for lunch. Mell hardly had time to jot down a paragraph as she wiped her fingers clean of her biscuit. While she wrote, she watched Galendria share her crumbs with the antenna-eared rodents, Fenn capturing a sketch from beside her. Hunger glittered in Krid¡¯s gaze as he observed the scene. Then they were off again to the beat of Mell¡¯s aching feet.


    They hid from a herd of cladafrum that passed by a ways away, then a small stream joined their journey. Mell was struck by the intense shade of green that hued the water. On the Trueplane, people only dreamed of dying their ponds that color. It bubbled and rippled next to them, other runoffs joining it.


    ¡°Look ahead.¡± Fenn pointed through the trees.


    They thinned, and something sparkled between their leaves. Mell squinted. She pushed past a clump of ferns and came to a stunned halt. A small lake shimmered in the white sun, its emerald surface broken with purple reeds, pads, and other flora. It was as if the rich life that pervaded this world had infused the water itself with the same verve. Or perhaps it worked the other way, vivacity leaking from the clear, green waters into the forest.


    Beautiful. She stepped forward. Though probably not quite a lake. She guessed she could probably walk around the whole perimeter, which she could easily see, in about half an hour.


    Fenn plodded up behind her. ¡°Perhaps we should be more careful about charging into clearings.¡±


    Mell opened her mouth to defend herself, but saw the hint of a smile on his face. Cheeky. She grinned. ¡°Right. We can¡¯t go wandering into another pixie hollow.¡±


    He ducked his head, sheepish. ¡°Or monster-infested lakes, in this case.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Syrdin appeared from whatever shadow zhe¡¯d been hiding in, ¡°who¡¯s going swimming?¡±


    Looking between the companions: Fenn scratching at his ear, Gale struggling past a final clump of ferns with Krid¡¯s assistance, and Syrdin standing with arms crossed; Mell got the distinct impression it would be her. She would seek the beast; she hoped with help.

 Chapter 14: The Beast of the Lake

    6 March 2373


    This second day of our journey, we¡¯ve made a bold decision to follow the directions provided by the pixies. They, according to every legend and my own instincts, are untrustworthy creatures. But today, that is all the direction we have. I¡¯ve no doubt we will run into all manner of mythical creatures and unspeakable powers on our journey. I anticipate writing them down when next we rest.


    Until then,


    Mellark, Scholar-Savant


    From The Truth and the Fae: A Memoir


    By Mellark Brandybeard


    <hr>


    Mellark


    ¡°So, who¡¯s going swimming?¡± Syrdin had emerged from the forest and surveyed the lake with hands on hips.


    Though Mell did not immediately volunteer, she assumed she would be the logical choice. Fenn wasn¡¯t much of a swimmer.


    Galendria stumbled past the last cluster of ferns, Krid a step behind her. ¡°A bit more of a pond than a lake, isn¡¯t it?¡± Cheerful now that they¡¯d found the water, Gale ignored Syrdin¡¯s question. Mell had hoped that after the ¡°war-torn people¡± talk, Gale would be more tolerant of Syrdin¡ªnot that Syrdin wasn¡¯t snarky or suspicious by nature. That had been wishful thinking.


    ¡°Yes, seems so,¡± Fenn hummed, ¡°but it probably would be a lake to a creature the size of a pixie.¡±


    Galendria giggled. ¡°You make a good point.¡±


    Mell smiled to herself as she crossed the grass and reeds that descended toward the water. She could see the way Gale¡¯s eyes lingered on Fenn, how she smiled easily when he was speaking. She remembered that feeling, even if it had been a long, long time. Of course, in Mell¡¯s case, it had been mutual. Give it some time. Watch, Fenn will come around. Mell rolled her eyes at herself. I¡¯m starting to think like Krid.


    Grasping a small tree whose roots drank from the pond, she stuck her toes in the water. Ripples radiated outward across the crystalline surface. Up close, the green color was a mere tint. In it, tiny fish scattered away from the shore, and floating plants retracted their long, flowering fronds back into themselves as the ripples reached them. If the plants recoil at a little ripple like that, something must eat them.


    She pulled her feet up under her and noticed the tree. Its craggy bark was carpeted with moss nearly up to her hand, despite the water only touching its roots.


    ¡°Well, if no one else feels like swimming,¡± Syrdin stood at the water¡¯s edge, a hand in front of zheir hood to block the sunlight reflected by the pond, ¡°I guess I¡¯ll volunteer.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Fenn stopped zhem. ¡°We may need someone who can speak Faerish to attempt to talk to it.¡±


    Syrdin huffed. ¡°Right, well then I¡¯ll go with the swimmer for protection.¡± Zhe gestured to Krid, who was hunched on all fours sniffing at the water¡¯s edge dubiously. ¡°I don¡¯t think our personal dragon will be getting his feet wet.¡±


    Krid lifted his head. ¡°Are there many water reserves like this on Hethbarn also?¡±


    Mell twisted her lips in a rye smile. The drakeman clearly did not know how to swim. A jittery Fenn launched into an extensive list of lakes across Hethbarn: Abishyri, the Lilac Stillwaters, even the little ones Mell didn¡¯t know. He¡¯d hardly gotten past the ones in Etnfrandia before she had stripped off her cloak, revealing her simple linens underneath. With the slim elves nearby, she felt heavy and frumpy so exposed. None of the others would care, so she set aside the feeling with her backpack. ¡°Here goes!¡±


    ¡°Be careful, please.¡± Fenn paused his list to watch her.


    She stepped her sandaled toes into the muddy bottom. They squished in, but not deep. At least the walk itself will not be treacherous. The scattered plants withdrew from her feet while tiny, lanceoloid fish patched with bright colors did the work of minnows, nibbling at her toes.


    ¡°I¡¯m right behind you,¡± Syrdin¡¯s voice took on a steady, reassuring tone that Mell had not heard in the days since they¡¯d joined Fenn. She could hear the quiet splash of Syrdin wading in behind her.


    Fenn picked up his ongoing list. The steady sound of it accompanied her across the pond, a comforting presence. The cool water made her feel alive. Whether with nerves or a supernatural vitality, she wasn¡¯t sure. Her heart thrummed as the water swished past her waist.


    She turned back to check her progress. The incline had been shallow, so she was farther out than she had expected to be at her current depth. On the shore, Fenn was removing his boots as a precaution, his load of camping goods piled next to hers. Though someone else might have found his continued speech neglectful, she knew it was his nerves speaking. He rambled to Krid about the Black Lake and how completely unlike this crystalline beauty it was. Syrdin waded up to zheir chest behind Mell.


    ¡°What can you see?¡± Fenn called, meeting her gaze with a concerned expression.


    Mell searched about. Weed-like plants tickled her ankles and she could still see her toes, dark between the lavender-colored leaves. The floor dropped away a few steps in front of her. There, broken by the glittering surface, a forest of plants waved gently in pale colors of blue, purple, and green. She could see vibrant oranges, pinks, and purples wafting through it, likely fish, with long streaming kites for fins.


    ¡°The water is pretty clear. I¡¯d have to go very, very deep for it to get dark.¡±


    ¡°Only if you think it¡¯s safe!¡± He called back. ¡°I¡¯d rather you come back alive than risk yourself to find the creature.¡±


    ¡°It drops off here, so I¡¯m going to go under for a little look. If I¡¯m not up in thirty seconds, you might want to hold my funeral.¡±


    Mell could just see the confused worry cross Fenn¡¯s face. She grinned, a bit nervous herself. He¡¯s too easy to tease.


    With that, she dunked herself into the water. The freshness stung her eyes, but not enough to interfere with the view. Bright light filtered in, and what had been chopped up by ripples was now clear to her. Long tendrils lined with violet leaves anchored floating plants to the pond¡¯s floor. Tear-drop fish with colorful, flowing fins scattered in whirling twists of fin and bubbles, spiraling away as she launched herself to the edge of the dropoff.


    It was even brighter than she had expected. The shadows cast by floating plants and nervous fish played on the pond¡¯s bottom, which was carpeted in what she assumed must be grasslike algae. Curled shells of striped and spotted patterns scuttled across it, chasing shimmering bundles of fluorescent streamers no larger than a minnow. Is this pond even deep enough to have a place with only ¡°one ray of light¡±?


    She rose to the surface with a gasp.


    ¡°See anything yet?¡± Fenn called.


    ¡°Nothing monstrous!¡± She bounced herself on her toes. Syrdin was treading water nearby. Judging by zheir dry hood, zhe had not followed Mell under.


    The others were lined up on the shore now. Fenn had pulled out a small crossbow and was about knee-deep in the water, a safety measure, to be sure. Mell had nearly forgotten he knew how to use one. He¡¯d mentioned, once or twice, that all Etnfrandians spent a couple of decades under military conscription. He¡¯d described it more as an artful pursuit than a combative one¨Creally putting the art in martial arts. Hopefully, Fenn wouldn¡¯t need true combat skills.


    Mell dove again then launched herself off the bottom past the drop-off. She scanned the mud and algae below, searching for any sign of a crevice or cave. This dropped bottom still sloped a bit, but seemed to even out ahead. Despite the bright clarity of the water at the bottom, she judged the depths of it were beyond her reach¨Cand she was a proficient swimmer. Still, she paddled her feet and descended further.


    An odd shape caught her eye among the weeds: a mossy green mound among lavender leaves. A boulder? It was large and rested on the bottom. That, she believed she could reach. She struck out for it, intending to launch herself from it toward the surface. She had nearly reached it when a chasm opened in it.


    Not a chasm! White tusks reached for her, backed by purple gums. Its mouth opened wide enough to swallow her head twice, one tusk as long as her hand and the other broken.


    She screamed in the water in what became a muted puff of bubbles. She flailed upward, kicking for the surface. The not-boulder rose after her, its tubby legs appearing on the pond floor. For once in her life Mell was grateful she floated because it pushed off the bottom after her, a massive barrel of algae with dark, beady eyes. As she turned to scramble for the surface, she saw a shroud of shadow sink past her and thought it flashed with a glimmer of metal. Still, she kicked and pulled at the water.


    The monster groaned behind her, and she glanced down to see a mist of purple leak into the water by its eye. Then its maw opened again. It clamped onto the mass of dark cloak that comprised Syrdin. Horror sickened Mell¡¯s stomach, but she had no time for regrets when it charged toward her, stomping on water like it was the ground.


    The creature swam toward her, anger in the flare of its wide nostrils and the twist of its tiny ears. She felt the burn of water in her nose as her body tried to gasp for air. She turned out of the way. It veered after her. Terror gripped her as she struggled on. The creature caught up. Twisting and kicking, she managed to land her feet on its broad green nose and launch herself to the surface.


    ¡°Syrdin!¡± The cry barely sputtered past her lips before the monster crashed out of the water, Syrdin dangling from its jaws. It swam over her, shoving her under.


    Legs as thick as oaks pounded her deeper under the water. Pain radiated from her side as the world became a swirl of bubbles and filmy leaves. Her left side throbbed. Please, Lorthen, don¡¯t let anything be broken. Something hard scraped against her right knee. The bottom. Blessedly, the creature had kicked her to a shallower part of the pond. She found she could still move enough to launch herself upward. When her head broke the surface again, she saw the beast crashing toward the shore some distance away from the others. They ran, circling the pond to meet it.


    Oh no! Panic rose. Mell reached out one hand from the water and tried to concentrate over both the ache of her trampled body and the tickle of water in her throat. Her headpiece glowed. A flame fizzled in the air for a moment where she conjured it, then dissipated as she erupted into a coughing fit, her body forcing out water.


    Sounds confused in her ears as she struggled to regain her breath: the hiss of a crossbow bolt, Krid¡¯s bellowed a warcry, and answer of the creature as it roared back, emerging from the pond with much sloshing. She heard a splunk.  She lifted her gaze to see blood, a purple ooze, leaking from the creature¡¯s side.


    She paddled herself toward the conflict on shore, still sputtering, eyes and nose burning. Syrdin? The elf jabbed weakly from within the beast¡¯s mouth, dagger in hand, face contorted with pain. Alive.


    Zheir face! Mell had seen it before, but the others¡­ Not important now. It was time to put her battle support training to use. She pushed forward, feet reaching the bottom. She nearly fell as her left leg gave out in a spasm of pain. A cry escaped her.


    On the shore, the beast charged Krid. While the ready warrior sidestepped, a sudden warmth spread across Mell¡¯s body. Healing. Gale. Mell breathed in and stepped securely on her leg as she focused her own magic on the monster. ¡°Release!¡± she commanded it.


    It paused. Mell held her breath. Then, with all the indignity of a dog dropping a toy at its master¡¯s request, it opened its maw. Syrdin fell from its mouth in an uncharacteristic pile. Mell thought her heart stopped. At the same moment, a crossbow bolt splintered into it with unnatural speed. It bellowed in pain, burying any cry of Syrdin¡¯s as zhe sloppily rolled aside.


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    When it swung its open mouth toward Krid and snapped, Mell again glimpsed its tusks. They were not the incisors of a predator, but rather the many and scattered mounds built for grinding. This was no carnivore. It is acting in self-defense.


    Mell kept wading toward them, slow, assessing the fight. Krid had drawn his sword and swung it toward the beast, which moved to dodge. In its effort, it nearly crushed Syrdin. From the ground, zhe jabbed zheir dagger up into its leg, tripping its maneuver. Krid¡¯s sword slashed away globs of fur stained purple with its blood.


    Mell shook herself. Her inaction would cost them. This giant herbivore might be the lake monster¨Cthe lead¨Cwe seek. They needed to fight defensively and wear it down, not hurt it. But first, she reached out a hand toward Syrdin, working up a spell.


    Someone else beat her to it as Syrdin rolled over and stumbled to zheir feet, gently aglow. Gale. She must not have seen zheir face. Syrdin took a half-hearted swipe as zhe stumbled away. The beast was busy with Krid and didn¡¯t notice.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Mell screamed. She threw her hands up in the air. ¡°Stop attacking it!¡±


    She gained some confused looks from her companions. But before they could make another move, several pairs of eyes appeared in the treeline behind them, glittering with hunger.


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    The water beast charged toward the shore, trampling over Mell, who ducked under the surface. With every step, the creature rose further out of the water. Algae dripped like fur from a fat body, rotund as an autumn bear. As it tossed its enormous head, he realized with horror that Syrdin dangled from its jaws. Fenn sprinted out of the water, running around to meet them. At least it¡¯s not Mell in its jaws. He hated the thought as soon as it crossed his mind. I¡¯ve got to help Syrdin.


    He paused his mad dash just long enough to aim his hand crossbow at the beast. His fingers shook as he yanked the string into the catch. As he did, a shimmering bolt appeared in the flight groove, a high-level enchantment he had placed for such an occasion. He released it and jolted himself back into a run, reedlike plants cutting at his bare feet. The magical ammunition skimmed the surface of the water and bounced off the beast''s leg, harmless. Athyr-deemed-it! Enchantments mattered little when the wielder was useless.


    Ahead of him, Krid bellowed his warcry and threw a handaxe into the beast''s side. Purple blood trickled out. The drakeman growled and pulled his sword. The beast roared back and charged. Now that Fenn could see it fully on the shore¨Cfour stout legs, long head, little ears, wide-set eyes, taller than Krid at its shoulder¨Che realized he had no idea what it was. No time for that now.


    Fenn¡¯s gaze skimmed the surface of the lake for Mell, vision bouncing with his glasses as he rounded the shore. There! Mell struggled to stand in the water but was aglow with a faint light. She stepped up, circlet glowing, hand outstretched to the beast. She¡¯s alright.


    Fenn stumbled to a stop some ten paces from the beast. His breath hiccupped in his chest, tighter than that short sprint merited. What do I do?  He could see Syrdin¡¯s legs kicking weakly. He reached for an idea, grasping in his panic for something, anything to free Syrdin. He grabbed a bolt from his pack. Gods, let this work. He tossed it in the air in front of him and focused. He pointed his finger at the bolt, concentrating magic onto it. In an instant, he wrote a simple instruction: fly there! Then he flicked his finger toward the beast.


    ¡°Release!¡± Mell¡¯s voice. He could just see the monster drop Syrdin.


    His bolt whistled as it sped straight into the beast¡¯s side. Yes! It groaned, eyes still glazed from Mell¡¯s spell.


    Some of the tension left his chest as Syrdin crumpled onto the beach, fingers clamped around a dagger. Alive. Zhe rolled sloppily to the beast¡¯s other side, just out of his sight.


    With that worry relieved, another thought struck. What if this is the beast we are looking for?


    Krid swung, and the beast flinched against something on its other side. The hit landed, another gash welling with purple blood. Fenn felt his stomach turn in disgust. We need to stop this.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Mell screamed. Her hands were up in the air. ¡°Stop attacking it!¡±


    Krid glanced toward her, hesitating. Fenn couldn¡¯t see Syrdin from his angle. He tried to add something, but his throat wouldn¡¯t move, his own tumultuous panic choking him. The beast opened its mouth and lunged for Krid. Fenn didn¡¯t have the chance to see what happened next.


    A high shriek of pain set him spinning in his tracks. A few steps behind him Gale stumbled under the weight of a blue furry creature latched to her back. She fell to her knees. The creature gripped her with sharp teeth and sickly curled claws, blood dripping from the long incisors buried into her shoulder near where it met her neck. Slitted pupils glared at him under a striped face, daring him to retaliate. A huge, pointed ear flicked a challenge. Panthrae. Gale¡¯s eyes were wide, horrified, pleading with Fenn for help.


    Cold dread froze him in place. He¡¯d never been much help to anyone.


    He swiveled to call for Krid or Mell. They were no better off. More panthrae streaked out of the woods toward them. These moved like cats and hunted like wolves, a small pack. Opportunists. The thought wasted precious moments. What good is knowing now? As if on their own, Fenn¡¯s feet lurched him to Gale, a hand outstretched.


    ¡°Clysnath.¡± He felt the electricity surge on his fingertips. He reached for the panthrae, but it dodged, pushing from Gale. She fell forward as Fenn¡¯s fingers just brushed the tips of its fur, snapping with static.


    It turned on him, one paw slashing at his leg as it lashed its striped tail in glee. This is a game to it. Fenn hopped backward, stumbling in the soft earth around the pond, his trousers ripped by the creature¡¯s claws. It pounced on him, teeth finding purchase in his arm, raised for protection. He slipped backward into the shallows with a brain-rattling thud.


    He struggled against the weight of the monster as it bore down, easily heavier than him. Putrid meat smell huffed hot against his face in the breath escaping past his stinging arm, shredded open. Blood, his own, dripped red between the monster¡¯s teeth as they latched tighter to him with a backward curve. Somewhere beyond the splashing, he could hear the sounds of more fighting. Krid could not come save him.


    With instincts he didn¡¯t know he had, he thrust his arms backward into the creature¡¯s throat, hoping to choke it.


    It shifted its grip, its rough tongue pushing against his arm, but it did not let go. No good. Its claws dug into him, needles jabbing dangerously near his neck. He squirmed, sloshing water onto his cheeks. His dagger¡¯s scabbard dug into his back, out of reach. Please don¡¯t let me die here.


    Fenn¡¯s other hand raised almost of its own accord, the crossbow no longer there, and shoved against the panthrae¡¯s shoulder. Fenn tried, once again, to summon the electricity to his hand. His breath came in gasping shudders. ¡°C-Clys¨C¡± he choked on water and blood, unable to finish.


    He felt a shift backward in the creature¡¯s weight, its jaw tensed around his arm. For a moment, he thought it might let go. Instead, it jerked its head from side to side, his arm along with it. He knew he cried out this time, but he never heard it. Suddenly, its claws pulled out from his neck, paws raising as it reared, dragging his arm up with it.


    It¡¯s going to slam me. He knew it with certainty, as one knows lightning before it strikes. I¡¯m going to die. He could not prepare for it. He closed his eyes.


    The paws fell on him, heavy. There was no further force behind it. Instead, he heard a gurgling noise. He opened his eyes to see an glowing blade protruding through the creature¡¯s throat, only inches away from Fenn¡¯s own chest.


    He gasped and rolled the creature off, wrenching his arm out of its jaws. The searing pain and hot blood nearly set him unconscious.


    Before he could muster the sense to wonder what happened, he saw her. In the mud behind the carcass stood Gale, bloodied, eyes wide, hands shaking around the hilt of a sabre shaped like those of the Everguard. This sword, however, shone with the same light as the tent she had summoned the day before.


    Krid roared from down the beach. The others.


    Fenn rolled to a crouch and searched for his weapon. It lay nearby on the shore. Snatching it, he struggled to pull back the string. Krid battled a panthrae of his own, its teeth buried in his calf, moving with him as he tried batter it off with his hilt. Fenn propped the crossbow between his legs and hauled the string into the catch with his unharmed arm, the enchanted bolt appearing. Thanks to Beauty! It still works. He set his sights on a panthrae with its teeth buried in Krid¡¯s calf and shot. The bolt sank into its side, then disappeared. With the creature distracted by sudden pain, Krid cut down its neck.


    Fenn lurched forward, the gore nearly launching his rations from his stomach.


    ¡°Fenn!¡± Gale dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his arm. ¡°Yglia.¡±


    A familiar rush of warmth spread throughout his body. The rips in his flesh closed and new energy filled his muscles. He scanned the fight for more danger. Cuts from claws marred the water beast and carcasses of several panthrae were strewn around it, some crushed, some cut. Krid had danced back from it, his stance defensive. He couldn¡¯t see Syrdin, but Mell still waded in the water very near the beast.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Gale¡¯s green eyes were large and glassy, terror in them mirroring his own. Her hand on his arm quivered.


    He barely heard her question as he watched the outcome.


    One final panthrae went wailing into the trees. Mell¡¯s voice, firm and gentle, addressed the water-creature. That, he realized, had been the panthrae¡¯s true target. Deep scratches marred its neck, and where one little ear had stuck out from its head, now a nub bled.


    The beast moaned and pawed. He detected no understanding from it, but neither did it seem willing to fight. Mell stepped closer, circlet aglow, hand raised with what Fenn thought was a healing gesture. With that, the pond beast decided it had had enough. It splashed away and disappeared into the water, avoiding Mell. They were left on the beach surrounded by the scattered piles of turquoise fur stained with violet stripes, a mix of blood and pattern. On the other side of where it had been, Syrdin stood curled over zhemself. No one had died.


    It¡¯s over.


    Fenn nearly collapsed with relief, but a quivering hand on his elbow reminded him not to. He set aside his bow and placed his hand on Gale¡¯s trembling one. Finally, he remembered her question. He swallowed back the bile still building in his mouth. ¡°I¡¯ll be just fine, thanks to you.¡± He heard his voice crack, but hoped the words took effect anyway. He didn¡¯t feel fine. Healed, certainly, but shaken and ill.


    He scooted around to face her. She had fared worse, her shoulder still oozing with fresh blood. He wasn¡¯t sure how bad it was, but it was enough to make him dizzy¨Cnot that that took much. But Gale had paled, her breath rapid and hands shaking. She was still staring at him, seeming to not quite focus where she looked. Is it her wound? He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to help her. Do something. Now¡¯s not the time to worry about what¡¯s proper.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. It¡¯s over now.¡± He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his side. ¡°Mell?¡± Fenn looked to his friend, who turned her attention to them. She¡¯ll know what to do.


    ¡°Y-you,¡± Gale shuttered, then pressed her forehead into his shoulder. ¡°You could have died.¡±


    Fenn felt a rush of emotions, familiar and unfamiliar. Compassion, concern, and a strange warmth. She had almost died, with that deep wound in her shoulder only inches from her neck.


    ¡°No,¡± he tried to sound self-assured, ¡°not even close. Not with you here. It might have been close without your help.¡± Lies. It had been close with her help. Without her, he would have been hopeless. He¡¯d been pinned, his dagger trapped under him. Neither of his shocking spells had taken. He¡¯d landed only half of his shots before that. He¡¯d been pretty much useless. As he always seemed to be.


    He pointed her attention to the others. ¡°See the others? Everyone is okay.¡± Krid nursed a few scratches, Syrdin watched the forest while clutching zheir side, and Mell... Well, Mell was livelier than ever, despite the blood trickling down her forehead. She spat at a corpse of a dead panthrae as she trod up the shore toward them.


    Gale still clung to him, but she tried to take a few deep breaths. She nodded, even as another shiver shook her whole frame.


    Fenn turned to Mell as she approached. ¡°Please, Gale¡¯s been¨C¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I see. One of them got you two, too.¡± She crouched and placed a hand on Gale.


    ¡°You tried speaking to the creature?¡± Fenn asked her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it understood anything. Except that we were a fight it couldn¡¯t win.¡± She huffed. ¡°Don¡¯t ever let me volunteer for danger again. That was way too close.¡±


    He inspected Mell for signs of her own struggles and found many. Lake mud stained her underclothes, ripped at the knee, and her forehead trickled with blood. It had been closer for everyone than he led Gale to believe.


    The gash in Gale¡¯s shoulder closed¨Cmostly, under Mell¡¯s touch. ¡°You¡¯ll want to find a cloth to press on that,¡± she said.


    He nodded, silent. If they had died, would it be my fault? I brought them here. He found himself holding Gale tighter. Before he could give it more thought, Krid began issuing orders.

 Chapter 15: Aftermath and the Unseen

    There was one servant of Anruwan who did not love the fields and flowers, but frequented the forests, visiting the beasts therein. She would sing to them, and they would gather to her and listen. It was she who taught the morboran to sing and the sudfied to dance. And so it happened that one day Dara saw her dancing with the dryads and nymphs, delighting in his creation, and he loved her.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    Syrdin stood hunched among the carcasses of panthrae, zheir attention fixed on the treeline. The pond lapped behind zhem, peaceful despite the battle that had taken place moments ago. Syrdin did not share that peace. Something was still out there. Zhe could feel its presence, its gaze.


    ¡°Syrdin, can you make sure there aren¡¯t more of those things hiding out there?¡± Krid¡¯s voice carried a harsh edge. He was taking command. Good.


    Zhe gave the drakeman a curt nod. Zheir side throbbed with all the ferocity of one of those faerie cats, but zhe would do this without complaining. The situation was desperate.


    While the drakeman ordered the others into a unified effort toward camping, Syrdin slipped into the shadow of the woods. Zhe clung to the underbrush, peaking through the foliage. With every step, zhe felt the gaze of an unknown creature watching, a lingering presence that would disappear every time zhe chased it down. Neither fluttering of wings nor crackling underbrush, nor even a whisper of any tangible being accompanied the vanishing gaze. It¡¯s not one of the big cats.


    The one panthrae who had run off left deep tracks that grew sloppy, then dragged along the ground. Before long, zhe found it collapsed in the dirt. It gasped and panted, bleeding out. Suffering.


    Syrdin rounded it and knelt by its head. Its blue eyes gleamed with an animal intelligence, a recognition that only a predator who has become prey knows: the knowledge of being hunted, beaten, and seeing one¡¯s end. Memories rose unbidden. A glaive to the gut, a dagger raised over zhem. Zhe knew that feeling.


    Zhe slid off a glove and placed a hand on its head. Its fur was soft against zheir skin. It closed its eyes, accepting its death. Compassion tightened Syrdin¡¯s chest. It was harmless now, its family slaughtered. In zheir memory, a pool of blood glittered on a stone floor, curly white hair washed in it.


    ¡°I understand,¡± Syrdin whispered. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Zhe steeled zhemself. It¡¯s already dying a slow and painful death.


    Zhe ended it quickly, that presence still watching zhem.


    All of the other panthrae tracks led toward the pond with no confusion. There were no more around.


    Zhe melted into the shadows and emerged back on the shoreline where the others were setting up a makeshift camp. Krid had somehow produced another of those hollow logs. On it sat a shivering Galendria with Fenn still at her shoulder, pressing a cloth against the wound Mell had mostly healed. Gale was pale and shaking. Shock.


    Syrdin suppressed the urge to snort. She may be pathetic and sheltered, but she did heal me. Syrdin would never admit it, but zhe would¡¯ve been stomped on if not for that spot of healing.


    ¡°Are you alright, Syrdin?¡± Mell approached the camp carrying the bags they had discarded near the adjacent shore. Blood seeped down her face from a slash in her forehead. ¡°I don¡¯t have a lot of magic energy left, so I¡¯m not sure how much more I can heal.¡± Her eyes roved up and down Syrdin, taking in zheir hunched, uneven stance and blood-stained leggings. ¡°I figured I should offer it to you first.¡±


    Syrdin set zheir jaw. Zhe probably had had a few broken ribs¡ªpossibly only bruised now thanks to the she-elf¡ªand a deep bite on zheir leg, but nothing dangerous. ¡°I can take care of myself. I¡¯m not sure those two could say the same.¡± Zhe flicked a hand toward the Etnfrandians. Tit for tat, Gale. Healing for healing. Never say I owe you.


    Mell scanned zhem one last time, doubtful, but handed zhem a roll of bandages and turned away. ¡°Alright then. Let me know if you need help.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Syrdin took the bandages and picked zheir way over to the shore. The gaze of the unseen one followed zhem. Syrdin glared back at it, but nothing was there. Zhe kept an eye on the rim of the forest while Mell added an extra touch of healing to Galendria, a weaker spell this time. Zhe felt a twinge of jealousy at how easily Mell could call upon the power of the gods. Sure, the cleric regularly needed to replenish her energy wells, but she could do things beyond mortal power, manipulating both mind and matter. Syrdin struggled to access zheir own connection to Ath-togail at all.


    The goddess stirred within, shrinking away. Syrdin set zheir jaw, not daring to reach out to the goddess. The intensity of the disembodied gaze set them both on edge. Hidden from the Etnfrandians by reeds, Syrdin settled on a tree root over the pond and slipped off zheir boots. As zhe peeled the linen from the newly formed scabs on zheir leg, the stinging maroon marks dribbled afresh. Against zheir skin of purplish gray, it was almost pretty. Another memory resurfaced: her mother in a slim warrior¡¯s dress of the same color, muscled and beautiful at the temple¡¯s altar. It had been a dress of bloodshed, a promise of no mercy.


    Syrdin hurried to clean and dress zheir wounds. Though she scrubbed at the bloodstains on zheir linens with soap, they left discoloration. Zhe grit zheir teeth and gave up. Some blood stains were never meant to leave. Instead, zhe slipped on zheir boots and moved on. Something needed to be done about that gaze.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    ¡°This is why I didn¡¯t want you to come.¡± Fenn said it softly, as if it should be comforting.


    She shivered in her seat on the log Krid had found for them. Fenn was standing at her shoulder, hands pressed against a cloth on her wound.


    It throbbed through the clouds hanging over her mind. Her eyes stung with tears that wouldn¡¯t fall. ¡°Because you knew I couldn¡¯t handle it?¡± She could hear her voice speaking, but the words seemed distant.


    ¡°No! Heavenly stars, no!¡± Vaguely, she could feel the jostling of his hands as he shook his head. ¡°Because¨Cbecause it is dangerous! People were going to get hurt. But now I¡¯m glad you came. You¡¯re¡­¡± his voice grew quiet. ¡°You¡¯re stronger and braver than I am.¡±


    She spun her blade in the dirt absentmindedly, the point drilling the earth by her feet. Am I brave? Her father had called her that too, whenever she¡¯d get hurt as an elfling. It had made her feel big then. Now, she only felt cold. And hurt. ¡°When I followed you, I didn¡¯t expect this.¡±


    ¡°Danger?¡±


    No, that wasn¡¯t it. She leaned forward and clutched a hand over her heart, staring unfocused towards the ground. Not at the bodies of the wildcats strewn by the pond, fur crusting over with blood. Her heart pounded under her fist. ¡°Bloodshed.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    He sounded as hollow as she felt. Oh? She traced her thumb on the hilt of her sword, listening to its hum. Is that all? We killed creatures today. We could have died.


    Her body shook in a dry sob, her eyes refusing to release the emotions hanging over her.


    ¡°You did an amazing job, Gale.¡± Fenn seemed far away, despite his nearness, his pressure on her shoulder. ¡°You saved me. I could barely shoot the whole fight, and you summoned the courage to save me.¡±


    She hung her head. Courage. Death. The purplish blood staining her blade gawked at her, and she convulsed with the urge to fling it away. She closed her fist tightly over the hilt, leaning into its comforting song: three notes shifting into one another in a slow, smooth movement.


    ¡°Gale?¡± The hand on her shoulder shifted painfully, and Fenn¡¯s shadow appeared on the ground in front of her where he crouched. Warmth tickled the hand that clung to her blade as he worked his spindly fingers under hers, prying them open. She didn¡¯t understand what he was trying to do until he took the hilt and pulled it from her grasp. The gentle hum disappeared, and she was left with the bleak stillness of the moment. She peered through blurred vision to see Fenn place her sabre carefully on the ground. It looked small, lying on its side like that. A gentle touch closed around her now empty hand as he encased it with one of his, his other still pressed on her shoulder. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± he whispered.


    She blinked, wishing the tears would fall. She was nearly choking on them. Nothing came: neither words nor tears. Her mind was blank without that hum. She tried to focus on the warmth of Fenn¡¯s hand around hers.


    He could have died. The panic she had felt when he had first fallen shook her again.


    Atti, please tell me we¡¯ll be alright. She would believe it if he told her. But her father wasn¡¯t here.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt. I thought you might want more healing? Syrdin turned it down.¡± She jolted at Mell¡¯s voice suddenly coming from behind her.


    Healing. Her shoulder still throbbed and the cold within her gripped her very soul. Gale swallowed down the lump again and tried to speak. Her body shook again. I want to go home, not to be healed. The thought surprised her.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think it would hurt,¡± Fenn answered for her. ¡°She¡¯s still bleeding a little and her hands are cold as snow. I think she¡¯s nearly as pale, too.¡±


    On the edges of her awareness, she knew she should be embarrassed to be seen like this. The feeling didn¡¯t come, hovering just out of reach with all of her other emotions.  Mell circled in front of her, searching her face. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll heal you a bit more, but Fenn,¡± Mell turned her head toward him, ¡°she might just be in shock.¡±


    Shock? Gale¡¯s mind stirred at the unfamiliar use of the word, but she couldn¡¯t focus the thought into a question.


    ¡°Can you heal that?¡±


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    Mell shook her head. ¡°That takes time and some comforting.¡±


    Comfort. Gale was shaken by a sob as the word resonated within her. Comfort. That was what she wanted. For her mother to hold her, and her father to tell her they¡¯d be safe, that no one would be harmed anymore. Comfort.  Her comfortable, familiar home. Tears began to drip down her face.


    She felt the warmth of Mell¡¯s spell ease the pain in her shoulder, but the pain inside her, the inner chill, the longing, did not leave. Mell removed her hands and stood.


    ¡°Mell, perhaps you should hold on to Gale¡¯s sword,¡± Fenn said.


    My sword? True, she didn¡¯t really want to be near it right now. She wanted to be home, far far away from this violence. She tried to wipe her tears on her sleeve while Mell stooped for the weapon. But there is no going home, is there? She had pushed away the thought for two days now. This time, it wouldn¡¯t go away. It crashed down, bringing with it the deluge of the emotions that had been hanging over her: fear, pain, loss, and others she didn¡¯t recognize. Her body shook, racked with sobs as her tears flowed freely.


    ¡°Gale? What is it?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t realized she had closed her eyes. When she opened them, Mell was gone, and all she could see were Fenn¡¯s, their storm-color brewing with concern.


    Another sob escaped her, fresh with tears. That was not what she wanted to see in those eyes. Peace, joy, even love. ¡°I w-want to g-go home.¡±  She melted into herself, leaning her elbows on her knees and burying her face in her hand not held by his. The reality of the situation was dismal. They had stolen priceless artifacts, smuggled in outsiders, and fled to a wild and dangerous world. Their return would be unwelcome. She¡¯d face prison. She convulsed again, the pain of loss tearing at her. A prison where she could see her Atti sounded a whole lot better than here. ¡°I want t-to go ho-h-home, Fenn!¡±


    ¡°Oh, Gale.¡± It sounded like a plea, like he was begging her to say anything but that. She felt his other hand join the one clasped around her left one. ¡°Gale, I¡¯m sorry, I¡­¡±  His voice trailed off.


    She lifted her face, and nearly hid it again at the sight of the deep creases of worry pinched into his brows. More tears trickled down her cheeks. She wished he would wipe them away; that he¡¯d tell her they could go back to her father and mother, so they could wipe them away, too. She shivered again.


    ¡°Going home could be really¡­bad.¡±


    She convulsed again with a whimper before she could choke back the lump in her throat enough to tell him, ¡°I know, I-I wo-would be impr-pris¡ª¡± she gasped, ¡°be arres¨Crested.¡±


    He squeezed her hand, completely swallowed by his two, and stared at the ground. ¡°So, you realized after all.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question. She nodded as her body shook all over again. I¡¯m so cold.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we b-both go home?¡± Even in her distressed state, she knew she was asking a lot of him. But in that moment, the ache for that choice, for that easy future consumed her. ¡°J-just turn ourselves in-in and face our ss-entences? And then go b-back to our lives?¡±


    His shoulders sagged. ¡°Gale, for what I¡¯ve done, mere imprisonment would be a very light sentence. And if you returned alone¡­¡± his eyes tore back and forth between hers, as though willing her to understand, then they dropped away. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Gale. I never wanted to get you involved.¡±


    She did understand. He had attacked the Everguard, a betrayal to the nation. And as for her, it hadn¡¯t been just her physical well-being he had been trying to protect, but her life. Her whole life. Is it too late? Fenn likely feared the scrutiny she¡¯d face alone. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t tell anyone, Fenn. You know I w-wouldn¡¯t. And I¡¯d still be there when you returned home, waiting.¡±


    ¡°Gale, please,¡± his voice rasped with desperation, ¡°I know. I do know that now. But I don¡¯t think¨C,¡± he shook the hand he held. ¡°I suspect that they may have ways to make you tell them. There are spells for that, and my father possessed magic he wasn¡¯t supposed to. Gale, I don¡¯t know if any secrets are safe if the Ceann Council questions you.¡±


    No secrets are safe? The very wind left her lungs. She kept many of those. Never mind that she was trapped. If they could force the honest truth from her, it would not only upend her life, but her father¡¯s and mother¡¯s as well. ¡°Oh.¡± It was all she could say as dizziness overtook her. ¡°Oh, frosts.¡± She felt her body shake, and everything spun.


    ¡°Woah, hey, hey,¡± she heard Fenn¡¯s voice reach a panic, and then one of his hands caught the side of her head as it fell. Black spots clouded her version. ¡°Breathe, Gale, breathe. Slowly.¡±


    She tried. She was gasping. Her chest felt tight. She scrunched her eyes closed against the spots.


    ¡°Hey now! Keep them open. Look at me!¡±


    She tried to take in a slow breath. It was ragged and limped along, her lungs not obeying her. Still, she opened her eyes. The world was tilted, but Fenn¡¯s eyes filled most of it. There, she could see her own¨Cwide with fear¨Creflected in his glasses.  ¡°I can¡¯t go back,¡± she whimpered.


    ¡°Gale.¡± Fenn¡¯s voice was firm. She blinked away the spots and took another staggered breath. The storm was gone from his gaze, replaced by the color of the pine-covered mountain, strong and sure. ¡°You don¡¯t need to go back, Gale. We¡­ we will figure this out. We¡¯ll all look after each other, just like you said yesterday, and make it through this together. ¡±


    Hadn¡¯t that been what I wanted? To be a part of Fenn¡¯s team. For him to rely on me.


    He was still speaking. ¡°You¡¯ll have my back. Mell will have yours. Syrdin will have hers. And so on. We¡¯ll all be¡­ okay. I won¡¯t leave you to suffer this alone. None of us are alone.¡±


    But he had left her. The memory of his abandonment swirled into her thoughts like a dark cloud. He¡¯d left for a hundred years to venture around Hethbarn. And he had planned to leave her again. Not alone. She had been with her father and mother then, and with her people whom she loved. His intention had never been to hurt her. She inhaled, almost smoothly this time, held it, then exhaled. She hadn¡¯t meant to sacrifice her whole life to follow him here. Is it really too late? Is there no outcome that would allow us to return home peacefully?


    She grasped Fenn¡¯s hand where it still supported her head, twining her fingers around the gaps between his, and leaned her cheek into his palm. She ought to have been embarrassed, but she simply absorbed the comfort of it. Then, slowly, with a regretful sigh, she dragged his hand down. She brought it to meet their other hands, hers still closed in his. She shifted her grip and gave both of his hands a squeeze. They were large, gangling hands that dwarfed hers. She could trust those hands to catch her when she needed them to. ¡°Thanks, I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±


    ¡°Good, then.¡± He leaned back, pulling from her grip. ¡°Feeling a little better?¡±


    She nodded, wiping the tears that still trailed her face. A hiccup escaped from her, and she covered her mouth. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    He smiled a little. ¡°Snow in spring.¡±


    Somehow, seeing that little smile made her want to cry all over again. She swallowed back the urge as she shook with another hiccup. Think about something else. ¡°I guess we lost our clue back in the pond?¡±


    Fenn worked his way back onto his feet, wiping mud off of his knees. It was a silly thing to do, as covered in a mess of dirt and blood as he was. ¡°Yes, but I doubt we would have gotten information from it anyway. It didn¡¯t speak, so unless one of us is secretly a druid, we weren¡¯t going to get far¡± He eyed her with a playful gleam that twinkled over a softer expression. He was still watchful of her.


    A joke? She cocked her head at him, confused. Druid¡­ does he mean me? ¡°I can¡¯t speak with animals if that¡¯s what you¡¯re implying.¡±


    ¡°I assumed. But not to worry, we have a whole team to discuss a plan with. We will find a way.¡± He reached a hand out toward her. ¡°Shall we go join them?¡±


    She hesitated, and he took notice.


    ¡°Or, if you are not ready for another adventure, you¨Cwe can stay here a bit longer.¡±


    Ready for another adventure? She wasn¡¯t ready. She was rattled to the core and raw from crying. She wasn¡¯t sure that when she stood, her legs would support her. She reached for his hand anyway. But we will be in it together.


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Galendria was trembling when Mell approached. She plodded through the reeds, grass, and damp earth that rimmed the lake all around. The two elves were oddly silent.  Fenn was crouched in front of Gale with one hand holding the cloth onto her wounded shoulder and the other holding her hand. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. It was as though he wanted to pull away, but the concern mounted on his shoulders would not allow it.


    Poor things. ¡°Sorry to interrupt. I thought you might want more healing? Syrdin turned it down.¡±


    Galendria gave no response. Not a good sign.


    ¡°I-I don¡¯t think it would hurt,¡± Fenn¡¯s answer pinched with anxiety¨Cboth for Gale and for himself. ¡°She¡¯s still bleeding a little and her hands are cold as snow. I think she¡¯s nearly as pale, too?¡±


    Mell circled around and inspected the girl. Her eyes, rimmed with red, were dilated larger than the bright sun overhead could possibly merit. She did appear pale, and her breath was shallow and came in shudders. That¡¯s not from her wounds, at least not her physical ones. Still, it could help her. ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll heal you a bit more, but Fenn,¡± Mell met his gaze to see the worry trapped behind his glasses, ¡°she might just be in shock.¡±


    ¡°Can you heal that?¡±


    Lorthen, wouldn¡¯t that be nice. Mell shook her head. ¡°That takes time and some comforting.¡±


    Mell bent and placed her hand on Galendria¡¯s shoulder, releasing her healing. The girl¡¯s color improved very slightly, but she still trembled. As expected.


    ¡°Mell, perhaps you should hold on to Gale¡¯s sword.¡±


    The sword? Mell glanced at the shimmering, blood-stained sabre that lay on the ground by Fenn¡¯s knees. She searched his face, silently asking why.


    He clenched his jaw and widened his eyes in an expression that suggested he meant more than he said.


    Mell stooped and clasped the hilt. The sword hummed in her hands with the notes of a celestial choir. I knew it! She gawked at Fenn. He stared at her expectantly. ¡°It¡¯s singing,¡± she mouthed.


    He nodded slowly. ¡°Creation,¡± he mouthed back.


    Creation Magic. Mell turned it over in her mind as she retreated away. It was that school of Dara¡¯s magic she had suspected from the beginning. Though most Wood Elves preferred druidic disciplines, Mell had never encountered these musical creations outside of their tribe. While she could access Lorthen¡¯s power through the focus built into her circlet¨Cand only after a test of fealty¨C, Wood Elves accessed Dara¡¯s power through their innate connection to him: the trace of his magic left from the birth of their race. Galendria had no religious connection to Dara and no magic focus, so that left only one conclusion: she was by blood a Wood Elf.


    Fenn had claimed there were no Wood Elves in Etnfrandia and had therefore concluded she had forged a connection. However, if Mell had seen Gale out in Hethbarn, a Wood Elf ethnicity would have been the natural assumption; she bore the tanned skin, hazel eyes, and brown-gold hair common to the tribe. It seemed obvious, but how?


    Mell had seen her father, Ceann Silverstem. She didn¡¯t appear entirely unlike him, but he was too pale-skinned and dark-haired to be a Wood Elf, or especially a Sun Elf, their ancestors. What of her mother? If Mell had seen her, she could have concluded more. Either way, Fenn was wrong about her; of that, Mell was sure.


    ¡°Anybody feel like we¡¯re being watched?¡± Krid¡¯s low growl roused Mell from her thoughts as she approached the others. She followed his gaze out to the treeline some ten meters away. Nothing was there, yet she felt it staring straight through her skin into her soul. Phantom spiders crawled on her back and she shivered.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Syrdin, just returned from treating zheir wounds, was slowly, gingerly setting zhemself down on a patch of grass, ¡°and not by those cat-things either.¡±

 Chapter 16 part 1/2: Hostile Gaze

    The Watchman watched from wooded land,


    her feathers spread o¡¯er tree and man,


    a shadow long and dark and deep,


    her voice a hiss about her beak.


    Jungle trees of mighty height


    Hid her presence from our sight.


    Frightful sun and fearful moon,


    Her shining claws shall strike us soon.


    -Arthur¡¯s Translated Poems, c. BUE 100


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    ¡°Anybody feel like we are being watched?¡± His question hung in the air, thick like the humidity.


    The gaze penetrated under his armor, between his scales, and into his heart. He made it stand bravely in his chest as he squared with the treeline, squinting. Whatever this creature was, it was not natural. Not like the water beast or the pack of predators had been. Those, they had handled well, each man claiming his own battle while supporting the other. They had emerged alive. Scathed, but intact. Despite the magic-resistant iron on his chest and the casters around him, he felt less confident about a fight with magical monsters.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Syrdin stood at his heel, following his squint, ¡°and not by those cat-things either.¡± Slowly, stiff with pain, zhe settled onto the long tendrils of grass and reeds, half an eye turned to the forest.


    Mell stopped where she had trod up. Her shoulders shuddered with fear. ¡°Yes, now that you mention it, there is an¡­ intense presence in the forest. What do you believe it is?¡±


    His claws tapped on the hilt of his blade while he thought. Fenn would know better than the rest of them. He glanced over to where he comforted his lady. His hand was on her cheek. Krid jerked his head away, feeling like he¡¯d intruded on a moment not meant for him. ¡°There¡¯s no way I can tell, but I doubt it¡¯s friendly. We¡¯ll have to wait for Fenn¡¯s thoughts. Until then, I¡¯ll watch it.¡± His voice growled more than he intended at the end.


    ¡°Easy, soldier,¡± Syrdin leaned back on zheir hands lazily, ¡°whatever it is, I don¡¯t think it is keen to leap out at us like the panthrae. It watched me while I went to check for more, and I couldn¡¯t find any sign of the source.¡±


    Mell heaved herself down next to Syrdin, squeezing water from her artfully twisted up clumps of hair. ¡°We should still investigate, once we¡¯re a bit rested and those two are feeling up to it,¡± she nodded toward Fenn and Gale. ¡°It could have answers that the pond beast didn¡¯t.¡±


    Investigate. Answers. That meant they would try to approach it. So far, all of the creatures they had spoken to had attacked them. Still, he could see the wisdom in facing their challenger head on¨Conce they were well rested, not just a ¡°bit.¡±


    He growled in discontent. ¡°We are barely patched up. We should move away and rest for a while. Make camp, if we can. Assuming there is danger behind this, it has neither come out from the forest, nor attacked Syrdin within. When we do face it, I¡¯d rather be fully recovered.¡± He stated his mind plainly. Anyone could follow his logic.


    ¡°Not to mention our unfinished business right here at the lake.¡± Syrdin thumbed toward the shimmering surface.


    Two pairs of footsteps shuffling over grass warned him that Fenn and Gale were finally approaching.


    Mell spoke up, unaware of that fact. ¡°I¡¯m not sure we do.¡± She flicked droplets off the tips of her¡­ was the word ¡°braids?¡±... and leaned forward, thoughtful. ¡°I have a sinking feeling that the pixies sent us after that beast we just wounded. That pond isn¡¯t deep enough to hide much else. As for the beast, I know for certain it cannot speak the tongues of man or Fae. We won¡¯t be able to question it. Fenn will know more¨C¡±


    ¡°Not a word, right? Not even Faerish?¡± Fenn spoke from a few steps behind her, and she whirled. Behind him, Fair Galendria clung to his elbow like it were a lifeline over sinking sands, her face pale with fear.


    Krid couldn¡¯t understand. The she-elf had overcome the creature that had attacked her. Normally, that bolstered someone¡¯s courage. She should be proud that she protected Fenn.


    Mell sat up straighter. ¡°Yes, not a one¨Cthat¡¯s discounting the command spell. It transfers intentions, so it didn¡¯t need to understand that.¡±


    ¡°Right, then.¡± Fenn nodded and reached into his satchel. ¡°I may be able to find it in the records of fae beasts, rather than the magical monsters.¡± He dug around, eventually pulling out a green book. Lowering himself and Gale to the ground, he flipped through it for a while, worn pages falling softly with each turn. Normally, this would bore Krid, but at the moment it stalled them from taking any action toward the presence, so he made his peace with it, choosing to watch the ¡°shoth¡± swoop in and out of the trees.


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    ¡°Aha! Flotymus. A water-dwelling herbivore of very large size. Highly territorial. The book recommends avoiding them.¡± He snapped the book shut. ¡°Described pretty much as we saw it, with no mention of a relation to pixies.¡± His brow wrinkled and his head sank with shame. ¡°I see no reason for them to have sent us here. I¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°No reason except it¡¯d probably kill us.¡± Syrdin flicked a shiny bug off zheir trousers. ¡°They¡¯d find that funny, wouldn¡¯t they?¡±


    Mell and Fenn uttered twin sighs that meant yes.


    Krid rumbled with irritation. Vile pixies, killing for fun.


    ¡°So, what about the looming presence, then?¡± Mell pulled everyone¡¯s attention back to the present problem.


    Krid tensed.


    ¡°The¡­¡± Fenn glanced at the treeline, ¡°I had hoped my mind was playing tricks on me. Do we know what it is?¡±


    ¡°So you don¡¯t know, either?¡± Mell¡¯s shoulders sank as the Newt shook his bright head.


    ¡°It¡¯s danger; that¡¯s what it is.¡± Krid turned from the treeline, his shoulders prickling with the gaze. ¡°As I¡¯ve already told the others, I think we should shift around the lake and try to camp, rest. We are better off facing it more recovered¨Cif we face it at all.¡±


    ¡°It is probably something more intelligent than the flotymus,¡± Mell offered. ¡°And likely more powerful than a handful of pixies, too, with how it can expand its presence.¡±


    Fenn rubbed his chin, his delicate soft-skin turning red from it. ¡°I wonder if it could be a Watcher. It is¡­ pervasive and quite strong. If it is as powerful as Mell thinks¡­¡± He raised his face, strained with thought. ¡°Well, it could very well answer all of our questions.¡±


    ¡°A what?¡± Krid asked, his senses still set on the forest, on the swooping shoth and skittering fae mice there. They, at least, were not afraid of being hunted.


    ¡°Something that would kill us in our sleep, sounds like,¡± Syrdin inserted. He squinted at zhem. That contradicted zheir prior opinion.


    Fenn took a deep inhale, a light awakening behind his glasses. It was the look that overcame him when he was prepared to lead a scenic tour of some unimportant facts. At least a lecture gives us time to rest.


    ¡°It¡¯s called a Watcher. In the old Fae legends, the gods had large swaths of land under their tutelage, more than they could reasonably care for. First, they attempted to send scouts, but after some time they instituted¨C¡±


    ¡°The abridged version, Fenn?¡± Mell cut him off.


    Camel dung! That cut their rest time by ten minutes, probably.


    ¡°Right. It¡¯s a creature with dominion over a certain region. The caretaker of that land, if you will. Each was originally placed by a member of the pantheon, though whether the Watchers still answer to a master, I could not tell you.¡±


    Excitement lit Mell¡¯s face and she leaned forward on her haunches.


    Double dung! She¡¯ll definitely want to find it, now.


    Syrdin didn¡¯t miss that either. ¡°What about their hostilities? Methods of attack? Are they known to be underhanded?¡± Zheir tone was firm, and Krid did not miss that zheir words again supported the idea that rest was not safe. If Syrdin knows something about this, zhe had better share.


    ¡°I¡¯m unsure. It¡¯s been so long that the old¨C¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not find out,¡± Krid interrupted Fenn to cut off Syrdin¡¯s control. ¡°We should not approach it.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re in charge now, Captain?¡± Syrdin¡¯s tone chilled him.


    He drew up and took a step forward. How dare zhe accuse me of forcing my way! ¡°No, I am trying to keep us safe!¡±


    ¡°By encouraging cowardice?¡± Syrdin remained unmoved, laying on the ground.


    ¡°There is wisdom in watchful rest. This is dangerous, even more so than I first thought.¡±


    Syrdin huffed. ¡°It¡¯s a danger to be faced with courage. Personally, I don¡¯t wanna die in my sleep, drakeman.¡±


    He clenched his jaw. ¡°Then state your reasons.¡±


    Syrdin barely raised zheir hooded head as zhe spoke to him. ¡°Simple. Because dying sucks, and I don¡¯t wanna go out like a coward.¡±


    An ironic, snarling smile cracked his lips. One who won¡¯t show zheir face to allies is calling me a coward? He arched over them, choosing his words.


    ¡°Blights! But those eyes are bone-chilling, aren¡¯t they?¡± Galendria broke her silence. She had locked her gaze on a single point and had not moved for the duration of the debate until now.


    Their heads whipped in unison as they all set their attention on her. They stared as insects hummed, one a roaring screech. Krid dropped his arched stance.


    Eyes? He glanced again at the trees, but saw no eyes.


    ¡°Galendria,¡± Fenn spoke in a hushed tone, as if he might frighten her away, ¡°what do you see?¡±


    She swallowed hard. ¡°It¡¯s just there,¡± she pointed with her free hand to a place under the bows in the treeline, her other one still white-knuckled on Fenn¡¯s elbow. ¡°With the most intense yellow eyes! Just behind that branch where it tangles with the low bow of another tree.¡± Galendria looked up at Fenn for a moment, wide-eyed, before peering once again into the trees. She waited expectantly on his confirmation, as though the sight were obvious.


    Krid searched again, but there was nothing.


    ¡°You can really see it?¡± Mell said at last.


    If she could, they could at least locate the source¨Cand, fates willing, avoid it. A Watcher, a servant of a god, sounded like a powerful foe to meet.


    ¡°You can¡¯t?¡± Gale¡¯s question was directed at Mell, and then to the others. ¡°Any of you?¡±


    They were silent.


    Syrdin finally sat up, holding zheir side. ¡°That¡¯ll be magical.¡±


    Krid¡¯s tail lashed over the grass. The whole five of them would end up as fae-fodder if he didn¡¯t stop it.

 Chapter 16 part 2/2: Hostile Gaze

    Syrdin


    A watcher, a vassal to a god. Fear pulled painfully at the bruises in Syrdin¡¯s ribs.  In a way, that made them peers. Though Syrdin might have been more of a vessel. For now.


    Zhe peered into the mottled shadows of the forest, tracking Galendria¡¯s gesture toward the supposed yellow eyes. The mantle of sunlight glittering on the leaves stung zheir eyes, shrouding anything nestled beneath it in darkness. Zheir skin prickled with the desire for that shade: to melt into those shadows and disappear. The open skies felt vulnerable, especially while they were so closely watched.


    In a moment of rippling water and whispering reeds, Syrdin spared a glare for Fenn¡¯s little princess, who stared fixedly at nothing. ¡°That¡¯ll be magical,¡± zhe noted.


    Zhe ground her teeth. As much as the girl¡¯s previously happy existence annoyed Syrdin, she was proving mighty useful. Even now, delicate as she clung to her betrothed¡¯s elbow, the girl¡¯s hair was set ablaze with gold by the direct sunlight, and her skin, though paled with fear, still held a rich hue of wood and bark. This creature would be one of Dara¡¯s Watchers; Syrdin did not doubt that.


    Another certainty: the gaze penetrated too deeply to allow it to watch zhem any longer. If this Watcher detected Ath-togail, Syrdin was as good as dead. Zhe was not fooled into thinking that any of zheir group would be sacrificing themselves to save zhem, either. Not on purpose.


    ¡°Undoubtedly magical.¡± Mell¡¯s fingers flexed, her mouth pinched to hold back more than she said. She held a hungry expression. ¡°Fenn, if there¡¯s even a chance this is a Watcher, don¡¯t you think we should approach it?¡±


    Though risky, meeting a Watcher presented a chance to learn the whereabouts of Boidhan the High Father, perhaps even to invoke the rite, or at least to test the strength of a god¡¯s servant. As a group, they stood a fighting chance. And, based on Mell¡¯s response, pushing them toward progress wouldn¡¯t be difficult. Fenn was indecisive and easy to lead. Only the drakeman and the trembling Galendria would oppose the idea.


    The others still waited for Fenn to respond. His attention kept shifting between Galendria, the forest, and Mell, his mouth hanging half-open. Finally, he found the words to answer. ¡°Perhaps, but I haven¡¯t the slightest clue the correct way to approach one. If there¡¯s some kind of offering or appropriate greeting¨C¡± he cut off when he caught a sharp glare from Mell, ¡°My point is, we could be putting ourselves in even greater danger, as Krid said.¡±


    The drakeman huffed with satisfaction but said nothing.


    They have lives to return to, the thought whispered in the back of Syrdin¡¯s mind. Compassion is a weakness, zheir mother¡¯s voice answered it, a mere memory. No. Syrdin shoved both thoughts away. This was no time for pity. The others had come by choice. If they weren¡¯t prepared to take risks, they shouldn¡¯t have come.


    Syrdin clenched zheir teeth into a grin. It was too easy, really. ¡°The way to approach it?¡± zhe rolled forward onto zheir feet, biting back a hiss of pain. In the thrill of a fight, if a fight came, zhe wouldn¡¯t be able to feel it. Nothing would slow zhem down. Zhe squared zheir shoulders in the direction of Galendria¡¯s stare. ¡°Simple: approach it head-on. We have questions, and this thing has answers.¡±


    Not waiting for a response, Syrdin strode, limping, toward the trees.


    Zhe heard Fenn sputter as zhe walked away, uttering a series of half-formed protests while the heavy steps of the drakeman squished in the damp earth behind zhem, following.


    ¡°If you go in there alone, you might die,¡± he growled.


    But you won¡¯t let that happen, will you? You¡¯re too honorable for that. ¡°Really, Krid, I never knew a drakeman to show cowardice in the face of a challenge.¡±


    His footsteps stopped. ¡°I never knew a Night Elf who was such a fool,¡± he hissed quietly. ¡°I thought you were clever.¡±


    Backtalk? And whispered so as not to spill zheir secrets. Syrdin stopped on the roots of the treeline, gnarled and uneven. Is that all? Even now, zhe saw no sign of any unusual creature, just a few beady-eyed clepshoths perched nearby and a fox-like creature crouched under the broad leaves of a low-lying fern. If backtalk was Krid¡¯s only defiance, zheir gamble had more than paid off. He had already followed zhem this far¨Cfar enough to push Mell and Fenn into action.


    ¡°Galendira,¡± Syrdin could barely hear Mell¡¯s gentle words from where zhe stood. ¡°I know it¡¯s a lot to ask, but couldn¡¯t you show them the way?¡±


    ¡°Mell, this might be a terrible idea.¡± Fenn didn¡¯t sound as afraid as zhe expected, only concerned.


    ¡°This is probably safer than trusting pixies, and we survived that much.¡± Mell wasn¡¯t a patient woman, and as she continued, her voice took a demanding edge. ¡°Come on, this is too great of an opportunity. If we wait like Krid wants, then it may just leave and we¡¯ll lose our chance.¡±


    ¡°But Mell¡­¡± There must have been something implied there that Syrdin didn¡¯t witness.


    A deep, shaky inhale that lasted a moment too long came from Galendria. ¡°It has moved. It¡¯s gone to the left of Syrdin by that taller tree.¡± She managed to sound self-assured.


    Didn¡¯t someone say Gale was a performer? She must have been a convincing one. Syrdin didn¡¯t believe the she-elf had genuinely mustered the courage to seek the Watcher.


    Syrdin followed her directions into the shade. Through twisted branches, zhe spotted a tree slightly taller than the others. No sooner had zhe laid eyes on it than a great shadow swept away, melting into the tangled shadows of the canopy.


    Zhe ducked down and waited for the others to catch up. ¡°I saw it for a moment. Whatever it is, it flies.¡± And it doesn¡¯t want to be seen.


    ¡°Hrmph!¡± The drakeman stalked onward, claws still on his hilt, his shield raised in front.


    Syrdin glanced over zheir shoulder to see Galendria lead the others into the forest, her head swiveling. Her gaze landed upward, and Syrdin tried to follow it. Again, there was nothing.


    ¡°Let me try something.¡± The girl finally released Fenn¡¯s arm and lifted a hand before her nose. She crossed two fingers, pulling her pointer back with her middle to create an eye. ¡°Tayspaen doan Drayht.¡± As soon as she said it, her face scrunched. She waved a hand in front of her face like she was batting away smoke.


    ¡°I take it there is a lot of magic around?¡± Mell asked.


    Ah, a magic sensing spell.


    Galendria blinked hard, her eyes watering. ¡°Yes, this whole place is filled with it.¡±


    And she can barely handle it. Spoiled brat. Syrdin shoved down zheir impatience, focusing on the task. Zhe put a hand on zheir dagger and followed behind Galendria as she stepped forward.


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    ¡°There¡¯s a trail of orange-like smoke going from the tree to the eyes,¡± Galendria said. ¡°And it ends up there.¡± She pointed to a distant place in some high boughs at the top of the lower canopy.


    ¡°Don¡¯t point,¡± Syrdin snatched down her hand. ¡°Don¡¯t look directly at it. Just lead.¡±


    She flinched away from zhem before she caught herself, clearing her throat and straightening. ¡°I thought you said the way was to approach it directly.¡± The last of her terrified, childish look disappeared, replaced with a caustic glare.


    Syrdin shrugged, though inwardly zhe seethed. ¡°Then I tried that and it flew away. So we try something else.¡±


    Gale set her jaw and lifted her head, already a full shoulder above Syrdin¡¯s. ¡°Then it¡¯ll be something you didn¡¯t choose.¡± She didn¡¯t whisper at all anymore. ¡°We¡¯ll try calling out to it.¡±


    A bolt of panic squeezed Syrdin¡¯s bruises. Skunyuv¡¯s furnace! This girl is going to get herself killed. She had gone from shivering to fearless with just a few nudges.


    I can still use this. It could only respond in four ways: attack, flee, speak, or ignore. Two would change nothing. Two zhe could work with. ¡°Oh, please, you have courage now?¡± Syrdin gestured to her with a flick of disdain. ¡°What, are you going to do? March up and challenge it to a battle? You jump every time a dirt-diver leaps.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she huffed, ¡°that¡¯s something you might do. I¡¯m going to greet it.¡±


    Syrdin grinned under zheir cowl but scoffed for Gale to hear. ¡°Happy death day, then!¡± Zhe watched the girl march forward with all the false dignity of a wet cat. Mell and Fennorin shared a glance. Syrdin couldn¡¯t see Mell¡¯s expression, but Fenn¡¯s was of frozen panic. He slipped over ferns and roots to catch up with his princess of bravado.


    Syrdin gestured for Krid to go to the other side of Fenn and Gale, then ducked behind a tree, sheltering behind some ferns.


    ¡°Gale!¡± Fenn gasped. ¡°Wait, we should disc¨C¡±


    ¡°Oh great Watcher!¡± the girl called in Elvish, ¡°We seek your council! Please be not wary of us simple travelers!¡±


    Oh please, as if that will work.


    A deep darkness obscured what sunlight trickled through the canopy as four great wings were silhouetted against the sky. They flapped and stirred up a strong wind, which gusted through the trees, over the ground, and across each of them. An otherworldly screech crackled in the air, sending the forests¡¯ critters scattering from their places among grass and leaf as they echoed the cry. A dirt-diver bellowed as he leaped into the ground, a two-tailed fox scurried to its den buried in roots, and fae mice squealed as they dodged between Syrdin¡¯s feet in flight.


    Zhe flattened zhemself to the ground behind zheir tree, breath hitching at the pain in zheir side. Through the broad leaves, zhe could see the others crouched in the dirt, the elves holding their ears.


    Then zhe dared to peek upward toward the silhouette. Two piercing yellow eyes, in likeness between a cat¡¯s and an owl¡¯s, leered at Syrdin. The pupils slit into focus on zhem, and Syrdin knew zhe was seen. Nevertheless, zhe dared not move.


    The creature fluttered its wings, each as long as Syrdin¡¯s full height. The whole creature was feathered, including the sharp, round face. Two horns branched up from the brow of it, giving it an owl-ish appearance. A hooked beak threatened them with a silent hiss. Under its face, a curved, feminine body elongated by feathers stood poised to swoop at them. Those legs were long and lean, and Syrdin dreaded to be struck by the force of them in flight, pierced like prey by two taloned feet.


    Then, most shocking of all, a voice rang in Syrdin¡¯s mind, feminine and coarse, in an old dialect of elvish.


    ¡°Dareth who to intrude upon this sanctuary, Fengal¡¯s Forest? One who would calleth upon me? Fie! Knoweth me not, or thou wouldst not call!¡±


    ¡°We five travelers¨C¡± Gale began, wincing low. A wild flapping and shrill shriek stopped her.


    ¡°None cometh as travelers, rather hunters of murderous attempt!¡± The Watcher screeched as she spoke in their minds.


    Syrdin strained to understand the dialect, older and stranger than the accent of the Etnfrandians. It seemed to be accusing them of hunting something¨Cmost likely either the panthrae or the pondscum monster. Zhe looked to zheir companions. Galendria had drained pale again, her bravado collapsed. Mell gaped upwards, her jaw dropping into her neck. Krid had backed away and stood in a ready stance, one claw on the handaxe strapped to his belt.


    Then, groveling from the ground into a bow, Fenn spoke. ¡°Ferngal, being you? We five seeke no harm to your land, yet harm have we met. A misfortune.¡±


    Syrdin guessed it wasn¡¯t a great representation of the dialect, because zhe could understand it.


    ¡°Lies!¡± an audible hiss accompanied the voice.¡°Yee five attempten harm against him, mine pet. Near killen him! I, Ferngal the Watching, condemne you!¡±


    Syrdin watched Krid begin to circle the Watcher, slowly loosing his ax from his belt. Bat¡¯s dung. He doesn¡¯t know what anyone¡¯s saying.


    Fennorin flinched. ¡°Apologies, mighty one. We killed not the creature, and we also were met with peril!¡± He was barely trying to hold the dialect. ¡°We only passeth through this forest. We¡¯ve¨C¡±


    ¡°Fenn, it¡¯s gathering magic to itself.¡± Galendria whispered her interruption, her attention fixed on the creature.


    Gathering magic. With only a flight advantage and the reach of her long legs, this foe was intimidating. But if she commanded a full mastery of fae magic¨Cand based on Gale¡¯s words, zhe did¨Cthen zheir own spells would do almost nothing. She would see in Syrdin¡¯s darkness, immune to Syrdin¡¯s charms and potions. Thus, already battered and drained, they stood little chance.


    ¡°Deception! Shutteth are the doors that keepeth the way. None lies open.¡± The creature¡¯s second pair of wings spread open, raised in a threatening arch. Syrdin crouched, ready to spring out of the way. ¡°I, Ferngal, condemne them! Be gone!¡±


    The air stirred. It seemed to pull into the Watcher¡¯s wings as she raised them back, back, far behind her. Zhe pressed zhemself further against zheir tree until the pain radiating from zheir ribs choked zhem. Whatever the attack was, it would be a powerful one.


    ¡°Hey bird-brain! Leave them alone!¡± Krid roared his taunt from the other side of the Watcher. Syrdin flinched at the sound of metal clanging against metal, Krid banging that ax against his shield. ¡°Or are you a horn-brained bully?!¡±


    Syrdin closed zheir eyes. Fool! At least the Watcher couldn''t understand Allspeach.


    There was a creak in the bows, then a roaring rush of wind¨Cin the other direction. Syrdin gasped and peered around the tree. The trees bent back from the watcher, a thunderous crack ricocheting from the force and speed of the gust. Krid was tossed in the air. He slammed into a tree back-first with a sickening thud. He slumped over, limp, his handax falling from his claws.


    ¡°Krid!¡± Fenn¡¯s pained cry ripped through the air.


    The power! Syrdin¡¯s heart caught in zheir throat. Sadness followed fear. Krid deserved a better death. Or perhaps a longer life.


    Mell was on her feet before the ax hit the dirt, scampering to his aid. ¡°Damn those pixies!¡± Syrdin could hear the anger in her elvish, the bloodlust. ¡°Had to lead us to the Watcher¡¯s favorite pet!¡±


    The creature chortled in a sick, gurgling sound, and her voice rang in Syrdin¡¯s mind, louder than before. ¡°None shall raiseth a shout against me unpunished. Tis justice dispensed, pet for pet.¡±


    ¡°Pet?!¡± Fenn yelled, raw anger grating through his voice, ¡°He¡¯s a man, not a pet!¡±


    Syrdin gritted zheir teeth. This creature held more power than zhe could have conjured in zheir nightmares. Was that even meant to be fatal? Zhe had a long way to go before zhe would be ready to face a Fae god.


    ¡°Arguen not, for der difference es little. Justice stande.¡± The monstrous owl-woman fluffed the feathers behind her head. ¡°If flee¡¯n you now, none shall pursueth you. Be gone! Or dost thou defiest Ferngal? Wishest thou to battle?!¡±


    I should run for it. Syrdin had witnessed only a fraction of its strength. The chance to ask questions was gone. Zhe pulled zheir dagger and prepared to dash away. I can¡¯t die to this thing. I have work to do.


    ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± Mell¡¯s cry stopped zhem. The drakeman growled back to consciousness. Syrdin felt an unexpected gladness. He was a noble-hearted man, and even zhe had wished him a good long life.


    Zhe glanced at him; then to Fenn, bent in a crouch toward the ground, his mouth silently open and limbs trembling beneath him; and then Gale, frozen with fear. Every calculation of zheir mind told zhem to obey the watcher and flee, to abandon this group, and reform zheir plans. Zheir feet didn¡¯t move. Was it magic? Intimidation? Fear? Zhe knew it wasn¡¯t those, but not quite what it was that made zhem hesitate; and then grip zheir dagger tighter, lean into the tree, and wait. Zhe would see what the others would do.

 Chapter 17 [merged]: Ambassador of the Wood

    When Anruwan heard of [their love], he grew flush with jealousy. He who ruled under the Sun brought the matter before the High Father. At the news, Boidhan took joy in the pairing. He overruled Anruwan, marrying Dara and the elftress in the sight of the Sun. This was the first Great Celebration, and Naude painted the sky in the pastels of love while Dervalia performed sonnets of longing.


    And from that union began a people born of love: the Wood Elves.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    <hr>


    Galendria


    ¡°If flee¡¯n you now, none shall pursueth you. Be gone! Or dost thou defiest Ferngal? Wishest thou to battle?!¡± The great she-bird¡¯s threat rattled through Galendria¡¯s mind, shaking her core like trees in a summer gale.


    She gaped at the body of the drake slumped against a tree. Not more violence. Please, not more bloodshed. Guilt ran hot down her stomach. She had called this creature upon them to their doom. Flee. Run.


    She could not run without Fenn.


    She whirled to her betrothed where he trembled near her, and then followed his frozen stare back to Krid.


    Mell slid to the ground next to the fallen Captain, healing already gathered in her hands. ¡°He¡¯s alive!¡± she cried. The glow of her circlet was faint as she released the dregs of her energy into him. The drakeman stirred with a moaning growl.


    Fenn teetered and dropped to his knees before the Watcher. ¡°No. Please, no battle.¡±


    She couldn¡¯t tell if he had collapsed or knelt on purpose, but when he fell, he pulled her heart with him. The pain of almost losing Fenn was still raw within her; she knew what he felt. And she knew what she feared.


    A revived Krid struggled back to his feet, sword drawn.


    ¡°No!¡± Mell latched herself to his arm, dragging him back. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡±


    Mell is trying to stop this. The thought stirred under the tempest of her fears. She could not sit by and do nothing. Not while the Watcher hissed in threat, wings flapping, magic gathering to her again.


    We must smooth things over. It¡¯s the only way.


    ¡°No battle?¡± The disembodied voice rang, ¡°Yet the man of scales so desireth. Yes, even now, thy One of the Dark pulleth a dagger. Thinke thou to trick me?¡± A threatening aura congregated around the Watcher, pooling darkness and despair into the air around her, a strange magic. She seemed to grow in stature and terror, blotting out the last rays of courage with her shadow.


    Fenn hunched forward in a pleading bow, his eyes wide and watery. ¡°No, I-I¨C¡± He looked like he might throw up.


    We need someone like my father. An ambassador to make peace. Galendria stood, even as her knees threatened to buckle out from under her. It was time to act. If none of the others could do it, she would try. She wobbled to Fenn and placed a hand on his shoulder, then knelt and bowed her head. The first step is always to find common ground, her father¡¯s words. What do we share with this creature?


    She breathed deeply, filling her stomach as she would for a song. And as with song, her voice came to her, carrying with it the words to speak. ¡°Great Watcher, though our companions act violently from fear, we, like you, have no desire for the harm of your forests¡¯ creatures. Rather, we come as explorers searching for answers about the gods you served, the ones who created us elves, as they created you.¡±


    The Watcher¡¯s talons flexed impatiently. Gale flinched, but finding her next breath had not been cut off, she kept going.


    ¡°I understand your mistrust. Like you, I but days ago believed that there were no Doors between the realms. Yet through ages of seeking and study, this elf, Fennorin of Etnfrandia, found one¨Cand opened it for us.¡± She squeezed his shoulder gently when she spoke his name, trying to impart a shred of the hope she wished she had. ¡°All we desire are our lives spared, and with them to pass through your forests¨C¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± The Watcher swooped from her perch, diving toward Gale. She hummed for a shield. Fenn tried to shove her down, but he slipped and fell away.


    The watcher¡¯s claws opened before her eyes. Then, the tall shield of the Everguard¡¯s defense appeared on her arm. The Watcher¡¯s weight splintered into it, and the world spun. Metal clinked. Her brain rattled as she thudded against the ground, which rocked and blurred around her.


    When she finally picked up her head, she discovered she was strewn across the dirt, one arm twisted outward, limp, still attached to the dented shield. The Watcher stood over her.


    ¡°What, darest thou tell, es this?¡± Her yellow eyes stared unblinking at the shield.


    No one spoke. Gale forced her head to turn to Fenn, who gaped at her, gasping. His mouth closed when he met her gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s her creation,¡± Fenn¡¯s voice pinched so tightly that it barely came out, ¡°a conjuration of sound.¡±


    ¡°I wishe thou mentionest sooner, mine little sister. Stande. I shall inquire of thine soul.¡± Ferngal stepped back from Gale to wait. Her mood, it seemed, was as changeable as the pixies¡¯. ¡°Dropen your weapons, all. This shall be finished soon.¡± The she-bird spun her head, placing her expectant stare on the others, one by one.


    To Gale¡¯s surprise, Syrdin appeared from the forest behind her and tossed a dagger onto the ground, next to one already fallen near Gale¡¯s shield. Had zhe thrown that to protect me? Zhe pulled another and dropped it, too. The others dropped theirs as well. Even Fenn remembered himself and set aside his crossbow and scabbard. Syrdin glared at Gale with an iridescent gleam under zheir cowl. Don¡¯t get us killed, it seemed to say.


    Gale moaned and dismissed her shield so she could free her limp arm. She hauled herself onto her knees, lifting the arm carefully with the other, teeth gritted against the pain. It dangled from the shoulder, aching, only dislocated as far as she could tell. She tried to force her trembling legs under her, but got no higher than one knee before she slipped back to the ground at the Watcher¡¯s feet with a grunt.


    Fenn flinched, one of his hands open as if he would help her, but the Watcher stood between them.


    Gale forced her face toward the Watcher¡¯s, meeting her piercing yellow eyes. The threatening aura had dissipated, but her presence and appearance were enough. ¡°What questions havest thou for me, Great Watcher?¡±


    ¡°Hoo,¡± the noise came from the creature''s throat, and her feathers splayed around her shoulders and neck. ¡°Hoohoo, hoo, hee, ahaha,¡± the airy chortle mingled with the disembodied, feminine laugh in an unholy cacophony of noise. ¡°Questions? None. Stande, child, become stillness. I shall seeke thy heart.¡±


    Seek my heart? Gale choked. She imagined talons ripping her heart from her chest. Rigid with fear, she once more forced one leg onto its foot, this time managing to follow it with the other.


    Ferngal¡¯s four wings spread with a rush. Gale braced herself. Every corner of her being wanted to flee from before the presence of the Watcher, from the dread of one of those thunderous flaps which had nearly killed Krid.


    She swallowed. The magic that had circulated around the she-bird, turning her ablaze just before her deadly stroke, did not gather to her now. Instead, she stepped forward so that her talons straddled Gale¡¯s skirt.


    Face to face, she was tall, taller than any creature Gale had encountered. She towered over her, leaning back on her legs and arching forward at the shoulder to curl her owl-like face over Gale. Her eyes were large, their pupils round like the appearance of sunflowers trapped behind the clearest glass. They drew Gale in.


    Ferngal raised her wings, and magic swirled to her. Where before there had been an orange blaze and the smell of the hot summer wind, now the magic circled her as threads of light. She opened her beak over Gale¡¯s upturned face. Magic tugged at Gale¡¯s insides. Lines of light like smoke trailed from her own eyes and nose and bubbled up from her throat, pushing open her mouth. They mingled with the threads around the Watcher, forming a yarn-like ball between their faces.


    Then, Gale was elsewhere. She smelled the fresh pine of the Etfrandian forests and saw Fenn at play. He toyed with that crystalline spyglass, a Truth¡¯s Eye¨Cand she knew it was a Truth¡¯s Eye. The vision blurred, and in the warmth of her home, she practiced. She hummed, the notes resonating with the energies in the world, and a vase, gently aglow, formed in her hands. Though her father¡¯s voice scolded her, a pleasure colored the memory: the Watcher¡¯s.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Then there was a chill wind. Between crisp spins at the hands of an acquaintance, she saw Fenn, hair powdered with snow, sitting miserably by a fire at the Winter Festival, and she knew with sadness that he would not dance.


    Now she argued with her father beside a roaring hearth about whether they could trust a Willowbirth with her happiness, her secret. The vision accelerated. She could see the deeply shadowed face of Ceann Willowbirth leaning over Fenn at the Center of Culture. Then there were the Everglow Mountains, dark against the stars, with Fenn and Krid running ahead of her. She saw the flash of the barrier opening, and she was standing in the Faeworld, again, her face inches away from the open beak of the Watcher.


    Her body convulsed, her back arching. Then the magic released her. Tiredness fell heavy over her; it was the kind of tired one felt from an entire day spent studying, but instead, she had been the one read.


    The great Watcher leaned back on her feet, her voice soft now. ¡°Thou riskest much to come, little sister. Thou tellest truthfully, and much more I wishe thou wouldst to mention sooner. Whence would thy goest? For here thy must never linger.¡±


    Never had breathing felt so heavy, nor thinking so fuzzy. Gale forced her way through her weariness. ¡°From a poem. The place where the light first touches. Please, do you know where that is?¡± Did she call me little sister?


    ¡°I knowe not whence. And ever still, your presence boden trouble. You shall leaven, or I shall chasee you away. The lands nearest hence lies, as I flye, such that the sun shineth on mine front right wing. Away, you five!¡±


    As Ferngal spoke, Gale caught movement behind her. Mell was waving her hand. Gale glanced at her, confused. Mell gestured, making something of a point with two flat hands. A plea? But her palms weren¡¯t together. She changed gestures, closing her fists together while leaving her two pointer fingers in the air, tips touching. Is that a spell?


    Gale pushed through the weariness, trying to recall what Mell might want to communicate; what they had discussed the day they first sought directions. Religion. A song of worship. The sun god. The dawn?


    ¡°Great Watcher!¡± Gale bowed. ¡°We will away with haste! But please, we hope our quest takes us to the dawn! Do you know where¨Cwhence we can find it?¡±


    ¡°Hoohoohoo!¡± The Watcher shuffled her feathers in amusement. ¡°Thou seekest the dawnfields! Flyen, you, with the sun on your backs. Finden them, you shall, beyond the Yellow Wood, across the snakende River Serenity. Caution! Bringen you no trouble upon the creatures there, or calamity shall findeth you!¡±


    ¡°You are merciful, Great Watcher,¡± Galendria bowed again. ¡°And we are undeserving.¡±


    ¡°Be gone, little sister!¡± The Watcher turned her back, spreading her four wings, ¡°Mine mercy liveth as short as the yuka falleth.¡± With that, she launched into the air and faded away as a shadow fades into the dark.


    Galendria collapsed into the ground in a puddle, still clutching her limp arm. Blessedly, this time there was no shivering. The experience had drained away even her fear, leaving just a hollow tiredness. She couldn¡¯t believe Ferngal hadn¡¯t killed them.


    ¡°Well, it doesn¡¯t take a yuka long to fall. Guess we¡¯d better get going,¡± Syrdin scooped up zheir knives and replaced them in zheir belt. ¡°Too bad the wise little sister couldn¡¯t be bothered to ask about mountains or temples.¡±


    Gale groaned. Mountains and temples. Mell¡¯s gestures suddenly made sense. The few drawings she¡¯d seen of temples always had steeples.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be that way,¡± Mell¡¯s voice rattled, even as she chided. ¡°She just saved our lives, which is more than you can say.¡± She knelt beside Gale, prodding her shoulder painfully.


    Gale clenched her teeth and bore both verbal and physical proddings. She was too exhausted to protest.


    Syrdin snapped zheir third knife into its sheath and turned to Mell. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you didn¡¯t want to find the creature. I got everyone moving. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°And almost killed,¡± Krid interjected, his voice graveled with ire. ¡°Now will someone explain what happened? The voice in my head was gibberish, and I don¡¯t understand how that didn¡¯t end in a fight, nor how that thing didn¡¯t kill Fair Gale. Was it a Watcher or not?¡±


    ¡°Really, I think we are all a bit confused. I¡¯ll explain, just give me a second¡­¡± Mell placed her hands carefully around Gale¡¯s shoulder. ¡°This might hurt.¡±


    A flash of white crossed Gale¡¯s vision and she heard herself cry out. Then her shoulder ached and her forearm, which apparently was shattered inside, blazed with pain.


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ve got no healing left, but it is in place. When you heal it, it will heal well.¡± Mell patted Gale¡¯s uninjured shoulder and turned to Krid. ¡°It was a Watcher named Ferngal, and¡­¡±


    As Mell continued to explain, Gale whispered healing into her arm, easing the pain into a dull memory. Finally, she turned to her right, where Fenn had been. He sat on the ground, silent, staring at her with an ashen pallor. He was exactly where he had fallen, as though it had never occurred to him to right himself. The expression on his face was unlike any she had seen. He had looked at her at times as if she was some question he couldn¡¯t answer or a puzzle he couldn¡¯t solve. This was beyond those curious looks. It was a baffled awe¨Ca confused admiration.


    ¡°That must have been the bravest act I¡¯ve ever seen.¡± He spoke in that hushed tone reserved for the presence of greatness.


    She felt her cheeks turn hot and faced them toward the ground. ¡°Thanks. But you know, I could see her magic aura. I knew she wasn¡¯t going to hurt me.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°Not just the soul-reading. You stood up for us. You got a Watcher to listen to you.¡±


    ¡°Only for a moment before she attacked me.¡±


    ¡°But for a moment longer than I could, and again after.¡± He took in a breath, as though there were more for him to say, but let it go in favor of a half-smile.


    Gale felt a thrill awaken in her under the tiredness. A Watcher listened to me. Her so-called bravery may have nearly gotten them killed in the first place, but it had also saved them. She had only done what she believed her father might have. If that was brave, then she was brave. She could live with Fenn thinking of her as brave. She smiled a giddy smile. ¡°You should have seen my knees shaking. I was certain we would all die.¡±


    Fenn cleared his throat in what was almost a laugh. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s something I think all of us could relate to.¡±


    They were silent for a moment, listening to Mell and Krid discuss whether it was safe to make camp. The idea of forming a new home base in this forest was out, but for the moment, they agreed that they needed to move away from here and rest.


    ¡°What did she do to you?¡± Fenn asked, finally.


    Gale chewed her cheek as she pondered how to answer. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but she saw my memories, and my desires with them. It was as she said: she read my soul.¡±


    ¡°Did it hurt?¡± He shifted toward her, cocking his head. ¡°Did you feel anything?¡±


    ¡°I could see the memories, and they all brought up strong emotions, but no physical pain.¡± It was hard not to wither under the questions. They had all been potent memories, many related to what had been her bosom secrets: her magic, her rightful heritage, and the hurt and hopes she held toward Fenn. Gale found herself shrinking into her sleeves and pushed her hands out through the holes. I faced a Watcher. I can answer some simple questions.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad it didn¡¯t hurt you.¡± Fenn scratched at his temple. ¡°Erm. Was there any pattern to the memories, or did she read your whole life?¡± He turned his gaze eyes downward, thankfully too embarrassed to ask the specific contents of the memories.


    Pattern to the memories? She could easily see how they were all related, in some way, to her connection with this place; either in the motives, circumstances, or the person that brought her here. But why the Truth¡¯s Eye? It could be simple; it was the trinket she held onto in memory of their friendship from before Fenn had ever left Etnfrandia. But she had not known what to call it before. She straightened against the urge to hide within herself. ¡°I think they were relevant to why I personally came to the Faeworld. Some of them don¡¯t quite seem like it, but those were mostly related to you. And my magic.¡±


    He leaned back and sighed. ¡°I suppose that makes sense. Painless, but invasive of your inner life. It must have been something like a mind-reading spell, only focusing on your motives and emotions, rather than your thoughts and intentions.¡±


    Gale jolted with alarm. Mind-reading?


    Fenn kept talking. ¡°And relating to your magic? Well, I suppose she would want to know whose magic you wielded. And seeing as she is a forest Watcher, I suspect she would appreciate your Daraish m¨C¡±


    ¡°There are mind-reading spells?¡±


    Fenn blinked, his trail of thoughts spoiled. She felt a little bad, but he nodded his answer. ¡°I¡¯m afraid so.¡±


    It was no wonder he had refused to let her go home. Sadness tugged at her, as did the desire for rest. She set her mind resolutely on camping. A walk sounded long and difficult, but a meal and bedroll away from all this violence would be worth it.


    She stood, pleased to find she no longer wobbled. The importance of what she accomplished that day settled on her like the warm glow of embers in a winter¡¯s blizzard, bringing her hope. She had been strong in the face of strange, Faerie dangers and had saved more than one life. She may not have prepared for this journey with study or training, like the others, but she had already proven herself. The Watcher had even shown her some form of respect. Little sister, it had called her. A faerie Watcher! True, she didn¡¯t know what that meant, but she understood that it was special.


    With her newfound confidence, she turned to the other three standing in a circle. ¡°Since we¡¯re all in agreement that we should move on before we rest, may I suggest we start moving?¡±

 Chapter 18: Condemnation

    There are legends of the gods to accompany the wars. They are scattered and variable, but the common thread is this: Sabaed the Goddess of Warcraft and Night left her place in the Pantheon in secret to love Hehin. Some tales say she was tricked, while others say she tricked Hehin into giving her his power. Some even claim the power took the form of twin daughters. It is impossible to tell which texts are the most reliable as no original sources have been preserved.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    The sun beat down on him like the judgment of a disappointed clan. The leaves whispered failure and condemnation as the five of them passed, and Krid knew it was true. He had nearly been taken in one blow by nothing more than a giant bird. Shame scorched his bruised insides. What would Fridana say? ¡°Don¡¯t you give me a fatherless daughter.¡± That, or some reprimand. ¡°Fight with the snake¡¯s cunning, not the recklessness of the wild cougar.¡±


    He huffed and shoved aside his feelings. His traveler¡¯s pack was enough to bear on its own. It would be a more beneficial use of time to evaluate their mistakes and learn. He surveyed his companions. Galendria hummed her way through the grass and ferns, light as a morning breeze despite her heavy pack and drooping eyes. Mellark and Fenn followed behind her, weary but content. Syrdin limped behind.


    How can they be this calm?


    They had been agents of discord. Syrdin had pursued the Watcher, unyielding to the group. He shouldn¡¯t have followed zhem. That was his mistake. His duty was to Fenn and his friends, not that goading gut-spiller. Then Fair Galendria had called out without awaiting consensus. Another mistake.


    Then he had nearly died. Preventable, if only one of the others had indicated to him what the creature was saying before he goaded it. He felt his tail thump into a tree as it slithered with irritation.


    Thank the Fates for the holy woman. Without her, he would have been lost to the Faeworld. All because this hodgepodge-stew of a squad would not heed one another. Communication, awareness, collaboration; they had none of it.


    And now he had to cross this cursed realm with them, droughts take it! He balled his hands into fists. He would have them cooperate, even if it killed him.


    Ahead of him, Galendria had slowed to match pace with the book-heads. ¡°What do you think she meant by calling me ise-difen?¡± she asked Fenn and Mell. ¡°Do you think it could be an honorific?¡±


    The two looked at each other, and Mell pursed her lips into a determined line and shrugged.


    Fenn sighed. ¡°I know it for the same purpose as you: a familial designator, something I would call my sister. Even in Old Elvish literature, the term is used primarily between literal siblings, or at most by those of the same tribe referring to younger females.¡±


    His sister. Krid wrinkled his brow with concern. Family was a private matter, yet Fenn mentioned her as though her existence were as open to the world as the sky to the sun. Does he not care for her safety? Krid could invent no other explanation. But it was Fenn¡¯s duty to protect her. She was more years his junior than a drakeman¡¯s lifetime if he remembered right. Krid glanced back at the mercenary. Syrdin is not his clansman. And definitely not his friend.


    Syrdin dragged behind the others like a limp tail, not slithering around in the shadows as zhe usually did. Despite how the little gut-spiller had endangered them all, he couldn¡¯t help but be moved to compassion. Zhe was clearly in pain, bent and lurching along. A maroon patch had begun to form on zheir lower leg where a wound¡¯s dressing was soaked through.


    He slowed and let the little elf catch up. He was not in perfect condition either, but at least he could walk.


    ¡°Come, gut-spiller, I¡¯ll give you a lift,¡± he patted his shoulder, and then held out his hand.


    Syrdin flinched as if his hand were a snake. ¡°No thanks. I don¡¯t need help.¡±


    ¡°He who refuses to aid the suffering dies alone. Yet also he who refuses the aid he is offered suffers alone.¡±


    ¡°Cute saying.¡± Syrdin made no move to take his hand.


    ¡°It is the creed I teach my company to uphold,¡± Krid reached out and grabbed Syrdin by the clothes on zheir back and began to lift, ¡°even at the cost of their lives.¡± As he moved, aches cramped down his side.


    Zhe squirmed and pulled a knife. ¡°Let go of me!¡±


    He dug his grip into the leathers he found under zheir cloak and heaved zheir small, lean mass to his shoulder, ignoring both his pain and zheir demands.


    The threat was empty. Zhe grasped one horn of his head for stability, not sheathing the dagger. ¡°Compassion is weakness and pity will get you killed. Do you think there is some honor in a death like that? It¡¯s better to live alone than die beside allies.¡±


    ¡°There is no joy in a life like that.¡± Now I am certain¨CKrid released zhem and the aching dulled, leaving Syrdin perched on him, zheir legs dangling over his breastplate¨Cthat zhe never lived among the Brikhvarnni. Mell and Fenn seemed to believe that to be the case. If it had been, Syrdin would have learned to rely on others. The colonies of Night Elves in Brikhvarnn had learned to abandon the callous ways of the Dark Ones. Zhe is not to be trusted. Not fully.


    Out of respect for zheir abilities and loyalty to Mellark, he would not yet reveal his knowledge. His Brikhvarnni Honor demanded him to keep his agreement with zhem and not mention zheir ethnicity or gender. Besides, the book-heads would realize the truth sooner or later.


    He felt a tapping vibrate through one of the horns atop his head.


    ¡°What?¡± He snapped.


    ¡°Hm, so you can feel it.¡± He felt the even pressure of Syrdin¡¯s grip resume.


    His hands itched with the urge to throw zhem off his shoulder. Patience. He pressed toward the front, passing the book-heads once more. They weren¡¯t paying attention to where they were going anymore.


    ¡°Hey, dragon?¡± Syrdin spoke casually, as if the tapping had never occurred.


    ¡°I am not a treasure-hoarding murderer.¡±


    Zhe ignored his hissed statement and went on. ¡°How would you feel about a little spar, once this bum leg is healed? A friendly little test of strength?¡±


    He puffed his annoyance out of his nostrils. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡±  Zhe shoved a tree-branch out of their path as zhe spoke. ¡°I want to practice fighting big things.¡± When zhe released, it swung over Fair Galendria¡¯s head.


    ¡°HA!'''' The laugh escaped him before he could stop it, and he found his annoyance cracked with a smile. ¡°Sure, we can spar.¡± It would be good to know whether, if it came to it, he could protect the others from Syrdin. He would never again leave his friends at the mercy of an enemy. That single blow had been the most embarrassing moment of his life. He could only hope¡­


    ¡°Hey, gut-spiller?¡±


    ¡°What skitts?¡± zhe sounded almost friendly.


    ¡°Is there¨C¡± he cut off, surprised by the unfamiliar question.¡°What skih-what?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s skittering around in the dark? Y¡¯know, of your mind? What skitts?¡± Syrdin tapped an impatient heel against his chest.


    He shook off the unusual saying. ¡°Is there any damage on my backplate?¡±


    He felt zhem shift around and heard the brush of leather gloves on metal. ¡°Just one chip under the left shoulder blade and some fresh dirt.¡±


    The sun¡¯s judgment eased, carried away on a gust of hope. The incident left no new scars. He could be allowed to forget the dishonor of falling to the mere wind of a foe. A smear could be polished away, but dents and scars could only be renewed by the hammer.


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    There was a lapse in conversation; all three of them were satisfied to assume that Dara¡¯s magic provided the ¡°little sister¡± connection. With heavy limbs and a sense of awe, Fenn observed Gale¡¯s gliding through the colorful forest. Her accomplishment had completely lifted her spirits, and that lifted his. He let himself enjoy the incredulity of what had occurred. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe we met a Watcher. That is a living piece of folklore. Mell, you and Krid may be the first Trueplane natives to ever meet one.¡±


    ¡°Obscure folklore at that!¡± Mell rejoined. ¡°I just hope whatever we meet next is less angry with us.¡±


    ¡°Imagine, Mell, because the Watchers are real and they wield the powers as described in the legends, then it stands to reason that the pantheon, the tribes, and even the nature of the gods are also true to the legends.¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He barely noticed Mell nodding along as the thoughts swept him up.


    ¡°It is exactly as I supposed. The ancient history I grew up with¨Cof savages in the Wildlands and of symbolic celestial deities¨Cthat version is the lie. It¡¯s likely all true Mell! From Boidhan¡¯s creation to Cialmara¡¯s blessing, and even Sabaed¡¯s love affair. There could be a god walking around in this very forest!¡± He could hear his own voice growing too rapid, but he couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°Or we could find Watchers in other territories, not just uchavon¨Cthat¡¯s Ferngal¡¯s type¨Cbut centaurs and fauns and treelings. And we could find ruins of places like Yatndrena or¨C! Mell, even the Underfae will be hidden here somewhere with its grand dark cities! Ghost cities, but cities! It had all been lies¨Ceverything simply fabricated out of our history.¡±


    It was one thing to have believed, all that time, that his country had been wrong and the collections he found on Hethbarn were right. It was another to experience it. The last notes of cognitive dissonance that had lingered in his mind finally left him in peace. It left only one question: why lie?


    ¡°Lies? What lies?¡± He turned to find Gale, her brows pinched over her little nose, staring at him in wild confusion.


    Mell took a pointed step away, swiveling her braided head to the canopy. This conversation was his to have.


    Suddenly, the running spigot in his mouth went dry. He didn¡¯t know where or how to begin. ¡°W-Well most of Etnfrandia¡¯s official history from before¡­ well, from before Highfather Goldencrown, it is¡­ is in conflict with the rest of Hethbarn¡¯s account of it.¡± He tensed in preparation, unsure how she would take the news.


    She balked. ¡°What? ¡®In conflict?¡¯ As in different? That¡¯s absurd! Different how?¡±


    Not unexpected. He took a deep breath and thought of how he¡¯d explain it in a lecture hall. He¡¯d start from what she knew well. ¡°Do you recall the Battle of Etnfrandia?¡±


    ¡°Of course! It¡¯s only the most important day in history! A battle was won, an army undone, the Night Elves defeated, at rising of sun.¡± She recited the children¡¯s poem musically, pleased to be standing in territory she recognized.


    He cringed his way past a cluster long-leaved bushes, avoiding a stink-spitting flower bug. ¡°You see, the rest of Hethbarn records it as a victory for the Night Elves. We were the last nation standing in a continental war against them.¡±


    She flinched from him as though he¡¯d been the stink bug. ¡°That¡¯s preposterous! Then why don¡¯t they rule us? Or all of Hethbarn? We won, clearly, or we would have dissolved!¡±


    Fenn shook his head sadly. ¡°The barrier cut them off from us, so we were just a remnant of survivors who made a home in their little refuge city. But for the rest, the Night Elves and Hehinnians did rule. From 0 UE until about 1100, when the kingdoms of men and dwarves rose up and threw off their reign. There were humans that fought alongside us who could not cross the barrier. None of them lived except for a few scouts, and their accounts are recorded in history.¡±


    ¡°No, it must be the Night Elves and the Hah-hey¡­ hah-heenn¨Cwhoever they are! It was they who lied!¡± Gale¡¯s hands squeezed her skirts, white-knuckled. Fae mice scattered from before her as the Etnfrandians had scattered from before the Night Elves.


    Fenn grew silent for a moment, watching the little cloasamora scurry away. Gale clearly didn¡¯t want to believe him, and that was the hardest to argue against. ¡°To alter history like that would require some kind of authority over others, wouldn¡¯t it? Authority that only rulers would have.¡± He hoped brick-solid logic would work; something one could build a house of information on.


    She changed tactics, her voice rising. ¡°But why? Why lie? Why change history?!¡±


    The image of splintered shelves and burning books invaded Fenn¡¯s mind. He could see his father¡¯s face, lit by the flames, grim with the sick approval only those who have tasted the massacre of knowledge could know¨Cdone in the name of cultural preservation. More accurately, cultural manipulation. He could see a hint of panic, the same discomfort he had once felt, darkening Gale¡¯s eyes.


    But a history could not be fully destroyed without destroying the people. If he had learned nothing else from Professor Spacklebottom, Fenn had learned that.


    He opened his palms toward her. ¡°Gale, someone¨Cor rather some group¨Cdecided to hide the truth. We were taught there are no real gods, only symbols of power. We were taught magic was dangerous to us, not a natural tool or a gift. I know you understand that the second is a lie. Why not the first? Why not the rest?¡± He took a deep breath and spoke softly. ¡°But I don¡¯t know the reason for it. If I did, I wouldn¡¯t have come here.¡±


    Gale huffed in frustration, turning her head away, toward the shadows of the forest. An insect somewhere nearby screeched its wings angrily. Then Gale looked back at him, a small, stiff smile planted on her face. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering, if we can¡¯t enter Etnfrandia without facing arrest, what is the plan for our return?¡±


    She changed the subject. He felt the eyes of the others fall on him. They had all been wondering the same thing. I¡¯ll just tell them what I¡¯ve thought so far. ¡°For the return journey, it will depend entirely on what we find, and whether we can convince Ferngal to allow us back through her lands. Even then, there could be some complications on the other side. Perhaps it would be better if we could find, or make, another exit. After all, there were once other Doors.¡±


    Gale perked up ¡°Another Door? How do we find that?¡± Hope glittered in her eyes.


    His palms had gone slick and his hair itched under the arms of his glasses. ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest idea.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she deflated to her usual level of optimism. ¡°Well, anyways, if we do have to return  the way we came, I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll find a way to make it happen. And for the Etnfrandian side, I know once we explain everything to my father, he¡¯ll advocate to the Council for us so we can at least leave Etnfrandia.¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯d rather not leave home, but I understand what we¡¯ve done is illegal. Unforgivable, even.¡± She peeked at him from under her lashes, ready with another little smile. Concern overshadowed her expression. ¡°Fenn, what¡¯s wrong?¡±


    He realized he was gaping at her. He snapped his mouth shut. Oh gods. She has no idea. She had pieced together her predicament, but had not realized¡­ ¡°Gale, your father¡­¡±


    Her optimistic gaze bit into him, and he found himself unable to complete the sentence. Fenn felt suddenly aware of the breath in his nostrils and the beads of sweat soaking into his clothes. Will she spiral into panic again?


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about him?¡± he managed.


    She blinked at him. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s awfully worried about me. He¡¯s very protective and¨C¡± she cut off, reading his expression. ¡°Oh,¡± realization crossed her face, followed by a horror that drew in her cheeks. Her skipping steps stopped in the dirt. ¡°Winter¡¯s frost! Fenn what have we done?! He could be in trouble!¡±


    ¡°Gale,¡± he started to reach a comforting hand towards her, but thought better of it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t mean for that to happen. All of the blame was meant to land on me. But when you got involved...¡±


    ¡°Oh, no no no. It¡¯s my fault.¡± She raised a delicate hand to her forehead and seemed to waver in place between determination and panic. ¡°I should go set the record straight.¡± Fenn couldn¡¯t tell if that was a decision, or merely what occurred to her in that moment as right.


    ¡°But you¡¯d put us all in danger by going back,¡± he pleaded. ¡°And he isn¡¯t in danger of anything except perhaps a bit of jail time and a demotion. If they have the magic I suspect, they¡¯ll discover he had nothing to do with it beyond allowing Mell in. ¡±


    ¡°But they¡¯ll ask him so many questions!¡± Gale closed her hands into fists. ¡°He¡¯ll¨C he knows about my magic. They¡¯ll ask about me¨Che¡¯ll lose everything! And it¡¯s my fault.¡± She turned to march back in almost the direction of the Door, determined to fix it.


    ¡°Now listen here, girl,¡± Mell boomed. ¡°Fenn has explained to you already that you wouldn¡¯t be righting a wrong, but creating a new one. Or does only your father matter now?  He is a very capable man of very high standing. I think he can take care of himself.¡± Mell softened. ¡°Don¡¯t you? Besides, wouldn¡¯t he want you to look after yourself? And not throw yourself into trouble for him?¡±


    Gale¡¯s jaw quavered, and tears shimmered in her eyes. Mell opened up her arms and spoke gently. ¡°Come on, you didn¡¯t mean for this. None of us did. And we can¡¯t change it now. Let¡¯s cry it out so we can figure out how to move forward, not back, hm?¡±


    Gale hesitated, and Mell wrapped her up in a bear-like squeeze, one that Fenn had been the victim of many times. It was the kind of hug that left you breathless, half-choked, and somehow feeling better.


    It must have had a similar effect on Gale because when Mell finally released her, she was wiping her tears, appearing almost resolute. ¡°Alright, we should move onward.¡±


    How does Mell do that so easily? How is it she knows just what to say?  He couldn¡¯t reach out without hesitating, couldn¡¯t comfort anybody without making something worse. He traced the palm Gale had leaned her face into earlier. It had been hard not to withdraw, like his hand had been searing on the stove. He rubbed it, scratching at invisible blisters left by her cheek. He¡¯d made her cry, then panic, then almost faint, and then somehow in the middle of it all he had encouraged her more romantic feelings. Meanwhile, Mell could simply quell all fears with three sentences and a hug.


    He realized Gale was looking at him, searching him. ¡°My father will be alright, won¡¯t he Fenn? They won¡¯t hurt him?¡±


    Fenn dropped his hand, suddenly gripped with anxiety. If even Mell¡¯s words weren¡¯t enough, what could I say? ¡°He¡¯ll be just fine.¡± He nodded his most reassuring nod.


    ¡°Promise?¡±


    It¡¯s not something I control, Gale. He couldn¡¯t understand what it meant to worry for one¡¯s family. He couldn¡¯t relate to what she felt at all. But he could see the suffering it brought her. He sighed. ¡°As far as I know. But a promise like that shouldn¡¯t¨C¡± matter, especially not from me.


    ¡°Please,¡± she cut him off, reaching for his hand.


    He took a step back, withdrawing from her touch. Not again. Yet her gesture chased the words from him. ¡°I promise. He''ll be fine.¡±


    A matroniage, her protection, her father¡¯s safety, how many promises am I willing to make that I can¡¯t keep? Two of them he already meant to uphold¨Ceven with all his might. But he knew he had very little might to offer. In time, her faith in him would prove him a fraud, intentional or not. Useless.


    Somehow, his words seemed to satisfy her, and they marched on in weighty silence. Before long, they came upon a clearing sufficient for their tents. Fenn¡¯s feet throbbed with their request to stop. He was ready to rest, even if for a short while. ¡°Mell, could you divine whether it is okay to sleep here?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I would be glad to.¡± Relief was evident in her voice.


    Behind him, Krid grumbled about reading fates, but unloaded the sentient package from his shoulder anyway. Syrdin winced as zhe was forced to stand on zheir own again. Every single one of them was in desperate need of rest.

 Chapter 19: Confrontations

    At the Final Creation, the Wood Elves were among the servants of Anruwan. They came about through the union of a Sun Elf and the Lord of the Forests himself, Dara. The she-elf is held in high regard as a matron saint among the Wood Elves to this day, even though these events took place well before the Crossing.


    -Fennorin¡¯s Guide to Elven History, First Ed. UE 2342


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell sat before the dirt-traced pentacle, eyes closed, humming the final verse of a chant. The insects hummed and screeched in discord against her, but they could not disturb her focus. She centered her thoughts on the question: ¡°Be it well, Lorthen, to sleep here before we depart?¡± Opening her eyes, she tossed three small, square rods into the center. She leaned forward. A quick reference to the book at her knee revealed the meanings of the symbols which had landed face-up on the copper sticks. ¡°Peace,¡± one read. ¡°Hope,¡± another. ¡°Storm.¡± Two major positives and a minor negative. Better than she had hoped for.


    ¡°The results are ¡®Well.¡¯ We should be able to rest up.¡±


    It was as if the whole group let out a collective breath. Mell plucked up her sticks and book and hauled herself off the ground to set up a tent. In their wearied state, the process dragged on. Even when it was done, her business was not finished for the day.


    Dusting red dirt off her aching knees, she dropped her hammer by the final tent peg and turned to Gale where she was crouched by the packs returning their rations after dinner.


    ¡°Gale, if you could wait a moment before bed, I¡¯m overdue a word with Syrdin.¡±


    Syrdin stopped where zhe had been about to duck into zheir tent. ¡°Now?¡±


    ¡°Yes, now.¡± Mell gestured into her own tent. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Syrdin sighed but followed. The moment the tent flap swished closed behind them, zhe snapped, ¡°Whatever this is? Make it quick. I¡¯d literally kill to take a nap.¡±


    Mell huffed a half-snort. Her back ached, her feet felt afire, and she was drained of every energy from mental to magical. If she had thought this conversation could wait, it would have. ¡°So would I, but I have to ask. What¡¯s your angle? What are you after?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean.¡± Syrdin began to pick crusted dirt off zheir glove, leaning heavily on one leg.


    ¡°Yes, you do.¡± Mell crossed her arms. ¡°I mean the Faeworld. Your reason for following us here, for wanting to find the Watcher. What are you after, Syrdin?¡±


    Zhe lowered zheir hand and sniffed. ¡°You worried?¡±


    Worried is an understatement. She had come to trust Syrdin, despite zheir affinity for secrets. She even found the sarcasm endearing. But now Syrdin dodged questions like they were a spray of arrows. When combined with zheir egging on the drakeman and the constant harassment of Galendria, it did not bode well. ¡°Yes, Syrdin. Very worried.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m touched,¡± Syrdin put a dramatic hand to zheir heart. ¡°No one has been worried about me in such a long time. Arsdark, I might even cry.¡±


    ¡°Syrdin!¡± Mell hissed. ¡°You know damn well this is about what you might do. Not of your safety, but of the others.¡±


    Zhe let out an exaggerated gasp. ¡°I¡¯m wounded. Only the Etnfrandians and their pet Captain matter now?¡±


    Manipulative little dastard! I ought to pull off zheir cowl and march zhem outside for Fenn and Gale to see. Mell took a deep, centering breath. Fenn already knew. It would only create more drama for him to handle¨Cwhich really meant it would be for her to deal with. ¡°Syrdin, the quicker you answer, the sooner we both go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± zhe took on more dramatic gestures and a mocking tone, ¡°I¡¯m in search of the Faerie gods to pay homage on behalf of my people and beg the oh-so-nice pantheon to save them from themselves. Do you like that answer?¡±


    Mell gaped, unsure what to say.


    ¡°Or,¡± zhe squared zheir shoulder and took a gruff voice, still quiet so no one outside could overhear, ¡°I¡¯m here to destroy the Etnfrandians and their gods once and for all.¡¯ That one makes sense, yeah? Because I¡¯m a Night Elf?


    ¡°Ooh, I could even be here¨Chaha get this,¡± zhe pretended to push glasses up zheir nose, ¡°to rediscover the history of my people. Wouldn¡¯t that be a great reason to come and die in the Fae? As wise as the ageless mountain or some Etnfrandian crap. Hilarious.¡±


    Mell felt the sting of that one. She could see the anger of a child lashing out behind it. ¡°Why are you pushing me away,¡± she whispered, ¡°when I could help you?¡±


    Syrdin scoffed. ¡°Please. If I told you the truth, would you even believe me?¡±


    Mell wanted to believe she would. But if she were honest¡­ Would I know the truth when Syrdin spoke it? ¡°I hope so. I¡¯d like to think that I know you.¡±


    Zhe went rigid. ¡°If you are so smart and know me so well, then figure it out. You say you trust me? Then trust that I won¡¯t hurt your little friends and that my plans have nothing to do with their safety. In fact, I might just be doing them a favor.¡± Zhe turned to go.


    ¡°Then I do.¡± Frowning with frustration, Mell clasped her hands in front of her stomach as she had been trained to do when holding back emotions. ¡°I believe you won¡¯t hurt them.¡± She had seen zhem fight and kill. She had seen zhem rend the guts from goblins and slit the gullets of bandits. But she had also seen zhem lower zheir dagger when one pleaded for his family. She had seen zhem hold a bag for a mother so she could carry her toddler. She knew that Syrdin could be ruthless. But she had seen that Syrdin had a heart. Whatever reason brought zhem here, it was not a cold, unfeeling reason. ¡°You¡¯d better not make me regret that trust.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Syrdin¡¯s cowl turned from the entrance of the tent toward Mell. Zhe took a sharp intake of breath, but hesitated. ¡°If you ever come to regret it, just know that it won¡¯t be because of me.¡±


    The words chilled the air, and for a moment, Mell expected to see her breath. Syrdin disappeared into the warmth of the sun.


    The tent flap had not yet stilled when Galendria pushed through.  Ah, I need to talk to her about her heritage. Mell scrutinized her as she prepared for bed. Worry fringed the rapid working of her fingers as she pulled off her boots and weariness weighed her as she settled onto her bedroll, but there was no despair.


    Mell sank next to her. ¡°Gale, I reckon we ought to rest now. But when you are ready, you and I need to have a chat about your being a Wood Elf.¡±


    The girl stiffened, her wide, green eyes finding Mell¡¯s. ¡°What do you mean? I¡¯m Etnfrandian. Fenn said it wasn¡¯t likely.¡±


    Mell measured Gale¡¯s reaction and found it wanting. But it¡¯s possible she truly doesn¡¯t know. She pushed away the thought. ¡°Another time, sweetie. But I just don¡¯t see another option.¡± She started the work of pulling off her clerical robe. She hoped her underclothes would finish drying from pond water. They were starting to chafe.


    ¡°Have you said anything to Fenn?¡±


    Mell pulled the robe over her head and turned on the Etnfrandian girl. She was staring a little too hard at Mell. ¡°No. He seems to think you forged your connection another way.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°But you don¡¯t.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a question. Mell answered her with one. ¡°Your mother doesn¡¯t look like you, does she?¡±


    Galendria shook her head. ¡°She¡¯s paler and has hair colored like the oats at harvest.¡±


    I knew it. I knew it. Mell nodded coolly. ¡°Another time.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a good explanation.¡±


    Despite her weariness, Gale¡¯s agitation seemed to drive her to speak the truth now. Mell inwardly groaned against the idea of a long chat. ¡°And if you¡¯d like to share, we can talk later. For now, sleep well knowing that I won¡¯t tell Fenn. But you do need to tell him. If for no other reason than you will throw off his research.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s really not that complic¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m tired, Gale.¡±


    ¡°My mom was barren, and there had been this att¨C¡±


    ¡°Goodnight.¡± Mell laid back and turned over, indicating the conversation was over. She made a tired, triumphant fist in front of her. By Lorthen, I knew it! Galendria had always been more than she seemed. She closed her eyes, content to be on her way to unlocking the mysteries of both this place and her companions, even if Syrdin still eluded her.


    ¡°Beautiful dreams,¡± Gale whispered.


    Mell was asleep before the rustling of Gale¡¯s blanket had settled.


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    Zhe swept the perimeter with zheir eyes as zhe limped across to zheir tent. Zhe should have been satisfied with the conversation. Mell had committed to trust in zhem without zhem having to reveal any information. Yet something in zhem felt unsettled, pressed from within as though trying to escape.


    Their surroundings, at least, were at relative peace. Sure, insects rattled their wings and the yuka-shoth screeched in a petty squabble nearby, but there was no longer an ominous gaze following them. Zhe could sleep to that.


    Syrdin ducked into the tent and found Fenn leaning over his notebook scratching short lines. Isn¡¯t he supposed to go on watch? Zhe sighed and lowered zhemself gingerly onto zheir bedroll.


    ¡°Is your leg alright?¡± Fenn¡¯s question took zhem by surprise.


    As if he cares. ¡°Doing just lovely. Like flowers in spring or something.¡± It was a jab at their silly Etnfrandian sayings.


    If he understood the joke, he ignored it. ¡°I have some glowmoss if you''re interested.¡± He spoke without looking up. ¡°It¡¯d be a bit old now, maybe twelve years, but I hear it gets more potent with age.¡±


    Glowmoss. It was a species that grew in the Darkcaverns¨Czheir home. Zhe could not imagine how Fenn had come by some. Is this some kind of test?


    The scratch of his graphite stick across the page filled the tent.


    ¡°What¡¯s glowmoss?¡±


    The scratching was replaced by thoughtful tapping. ¡°Ah, it has pain-relieving properties and is used as a medicine by the people groups underground. If you burn some, it can knock you right out. Would you like to try it?¡±


    He was correct about its uses, of course. He was more knowledgeable than zhe had originally guessed. Syrdin wanted to ask how it had been preserved; whether it had been dried and sealed, or kept alive with moisture. But to ask would be as good as to admit zheir race. ¡°I¡¯ll be alright. Save it for an emergency.¡±


    ¡°I can do that.¡± More scribbling.


    Syrdin rolled over and tried to ignore the sound. Just as zhe began to nod off, he spoke again.


    ¡°You got a better look at the Flotymus, do you think this is a fair representation?¡± Syrdin heard some rustling as he profferred the book to zhem.


    Flotymus? Zhe propped up on an elbow to look, grabbing the edge. It was the pond-scum monster, and an incredible likeness, too. ¡°The jaw is bigger and the legs thicker compared to the body.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± he pushed his glasses up his nose. ¡°I¡¯ll have to adjust it.¡±  He began to pull the notebook back.


    Syrdin snatched it away. ¡°On second thought, it¡¯s perfect.¡± Zhe snapped the book shut and tucked it under zheir arm. ¡°Now go on watch!¡±


    The lad let out a distressed gasp. Syrdin had turned back over, but zhe could tell by his breathing that he had trouble calming himself, though the rustle of cloth told zhem that he was standing to go. Is he that afraid of me?


    He was clearly suspicious of zhem. Or perhaps he was hiding something in that notebook of his. Zhe would have a look in the morning. There was a wealth of information there: everything he and Mell had discovered about the artifacts, their conjectures and theories on this place, and any hints on the locations of the gods. It was information zhe needed to know.


    But now, deeper than the throb of zheir ribs, zhe felt the call of sleep. Zhe let it enwrap zhem in that peaceful shroud of nothingness, praying the dreams would not come.

 Chapter 20: Court of Judgement

    In Etnfrandia, the government is organized into five Houses under the authority of the Ar-Athyr, which translated means Highfather, or King. Then, in ascending order of importance, the House of Cultivation oversees agricultural services, the House of Trade oversees business, the House of Learning oversees education, the House of Militant Arts oversees the armed forces, and the House of Tradition oversees the direction of Culture.


    Despite the non-religious Culture of the nation, most of these can be equated to the various values of a Faerie god: Cultivation to Anruwan, Learning to Cyalmara (Lorthen), Militant Arts to Sabaed, Tradition to Dervalia, and the Highfather as the Highfather Boidhan himself. What remains is Trade, left to either Naude or, more likely, Skunyuv, a poorly understood goddess of metallurgy.


    Fennorin Willowbirth


    ¡°An Etnfrandian¡¯s Explanation of The Everglow Nation¡±


    The Explorer¡¯s Magazine


    UE 2343


    <hr>


    Belaer


    Two guards in ceremonial armor dragged Belaer by his bound wrists toward the center of the Court, an expansive room of stone that was to him all too familiar. The ceiling stretched high into the mountain with only a few windows at the rear. In front of him lay the waist-high booths where he had once sat: the six seats of the Ceann Council and their Ar-Athyr.


    Rising on either side of his path to the very rear of the room were the seats of those whom he had once served. He saw their faces reflected in the polished armor of the guard who pulled him, morphed and bent into sneers. Between their faces, even his own had been deformed on the shining surface from smooth and refined to bulbous and grotesque. The people gawked at his every step, and their voices echoed in whispered rumors of his crimes. Conspirator. Traitor. Human-lover.


    Among the people, a singular presence was lacking: his daughter.


    He let his eyes fall to the smooth stone under his treading feet before he raised them to meet the gaze of the Highfather. She stood in her stone booth at the front of the room, her dark hair crowned with interwoven angles of silver that represented the proud mountains of their home. They gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight that filtered through the high windows across the back wall. After two days held in the deep of the mountain, the glare seemed especially harsh. He squinted against it to meet her eyes. Once warm with a kind familiarity, they now held the icy glint of one betrayed.


    Vyrrel, my old friend, Belaer wanted to say to her, You know I did not mean harm. Please understand.


    Five more stone booths slanted down beside hers: two on her left, three on her right. The one on the far left stood empty: his seat¨Cor what had been. To her immediate right, Ceann Willowbirth glowered at him from the shadows of his own brow, a snakeline curl twisting his lip.


    My humiliation would please him. Belaer had on more than one occasion opposed his grasps for greater influence, particularly Olfeiros¡¯ demands for a comprehensive reconciliation of all content, old and new, to his House¡¯s current Traditions¨Cas if the submission of all proposed programs for review was not enough. It was an overreach, and in the end, the Ar-Athyr had always sided with Belaer.


    Belaer was pushed to the center of the court. Shaped like an amphitheater, the room¡¯s seating of the common elf behind him descended to an open floor marked off by two interlocked heptagons, a design which¡¯s meaning he had believed was lost. Now, as he stood in its center, his mind fuzzed and his mouth felt eager to speak.


    Surely it¡¯s not magical.


    Yet, when he glanced down, he thought he could see a faint glow rising from the engravings. He had never noticed this from his booth. Has it always been like this?


    The Highfather cleared her throat, and the whispered gossip among the semi-circle of common brethren behind him quieted. He awaited her opening statement, their eyes locked. Her hair was pushed back from her face to display the sharp, red stripes of the Ar-Athyr across her cheeks, highlighting the harshness of her features. He had known her to be a kind she-elf, but this was not a court of kindness.


    ¡°Belaer Silverstem, Ceann of Trade,¡± her voice rang out, steely against the stone, ¡°you stand before the Council accused of Crimes against Etnfrandia. The foremost crimes, to which you have admitted guilt, are colluding with outsiders and endangering the citizens of Etnfrandia. Today, you will stand before the Court, and the People shall witness both our accusations and your testimony. Do you recognize this session as fair and legitimate?¡±


    Thoughts swirled to present themselves to him. He knew those crimes were technically correct. Yet, these accusations felt wrong. Collusion. He did not recall admitting to that. He pushed through the fog, answering tradition with tradition. ¡°I humbly subject myself to the will of the Athyr and her children, the People.¡± The truth would come out. Yet, hopefully, the right truths: the truths that would protect Gale.


    ¡°Olfeiros Willowbirth, Ceann of Tradition, and Urivalur Cleartide, Ceann of Militant Arts, will summarize the testimonies of themselves and the children they represent. Ceann Willowbirth?¡±


    Olfeiros stepped forward from his seat, his pale skin especially stark against the deep stone and evening shadows. He stood at the front of his booth as the others sat.


    ¡°Though many of you, my brothers and sisters, have come to testify that our dear friend, Belaer¡­¡±


    It was a subtle slight to refuse Ceann Silverstem his title before it had been formally stripped. Belaer bowed his head. So that is how it is going to be.


    ¡°...is an elf of outstanding character and loyalty. I am afraid, brethren, that my own testimony does not match this narrative. I bear witness that, without consulting the Ceann Council, Silverstem allowed a human outsider to enter the barrier of Etnfrandia, as well as two other unidentified creatures, thereby risking the safety of our nation. This human was none other than a cleric of Divine Magics long declared against Tradition by my predecessors and myself. Whether an act of collusion, or a mere act of negligence, only Belaer himself knows, but here are the facts.¡±


    Belaer gritted his teeth. It had occurred to him, on first meeting, that because of the scholar¡¯s divine fealty, she was unlikely to be a connection of Olfeiros¡¯, but it had never occurred to him that Fenn would invite her to seek forbidden knowledge. Is it possible?


    Willowbirth gazed about the room, his eyes ever tilted downward with a forced regality. ¡°On the very night our failed Ceann of Trade allowed the human in, she and another creature were present inside the walls of our grand city. And that night, five artifacts of Cultural importance were stolen from my Center of Culture. We have every reason to believe they are the culprits.¡±


    Olfeiros took a deep breath and leaned his spindly, bone-white hands against the wall of his stone booth. This moment allowed a murmur to ripple across the crowd.


    ¡°It begins with the boy, Fennorin, who I have long been ashamed to call my son. Ever have I wrestled to appropriately direct his lack of talent and distance him from our City. For, as we all know, he has long since abandoned the ways of Etnfrandia.¡±


    Belaer clenched his fists. That is unfair. It was much worse than the lad deserved, even if he had stolen artifacts. True, he was no ordinary Etnfrandian, and never had been. But neither was he an elf to be disowned and disregarded. He was intelligent and kind, even if not always forthcoming with his intentions¨Capparently.


    ¡°No trust should have been granted to this lad, especially not when he requested entry for a human. Yet, whether he was motivated by the betrothal within his family or by collusion with the criminals has yet to be determined. This is not all, my good brethren.¡± Olfeiros rambled on in his most mellifluous timbre, spinning his tall tale in silken honey. He interwoven such details as the woman¡¯s affinity for magic, Fenn and Gale¡¯s presence in his Cultural Center, and the artifacts¡¯ ¡°ancient symbolism of the once-devine,¡± threading a tapestry from which not even Belaer could deny that the intentions of the group were clearly religious and magical in nature.


    ¡°Our nation is betrayed, our Culture threatened, and it has been allowed by this elf.¡± Willowbirth pointed to him, his crystalline eyes glittering with malice. ¡°Belaer Silverstem, do you admit to knowing that the human was employed in a religious order?¡±


    Belaer blinked against the words that rushed to his mind. ¡°Yes, I recognized her robes as clerical.¡±


    ¡°And what order of religions did you believe her to serve?¡±


    Belaer clenched his teeth. He had told the Everguard, during his detainment and questioning, that she might have had a circlet to a Faerie god. He chose his words carefully, still pressed from within to speak the truth. ¡°The symbols of her Order seemed familiar, vaguely. I wondered if it might be F¨Cof the Wildlands.¡±


    A gasp rose from the crowd.


    ¡°And you allowed her entry into our country?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Belaer let his head hang repentantly.


    ¡°And why, Belaer, did you not find it necessary to consult the Council that you now stand before? And not inform us immediately of her presence at our border?¡±


    ¡°She arrived unarmed carrying the sigil to your house. She spoke politely and warmly, and she had more extensive knowledge of our customs than many diplomats from among the nations. In short, she seemed harmless. Not to mention I did not permit her entry to the city, and I sent word to you immediately, upon the moment she produced the sigil, and the others shortly thereafter.¡±


    ¡°Then why was I not informed of her presence until after the theft?¡±


    With effort, Belaer kept his bearing calm. It would serve no one to let his irritation show. ¡°Upon granting her permission to our countryside, I sent two guards with a message to you and the Council concerning her entry and whereabouts. Ceann Urivalur¡¯s guard can bear witness to that.¡±


    Urivalur glanced to a guard, who nodded his confirmation. No one else seemed to notice, except perhaps the Highfather. Olfieros was trying to heighten his crimes.


    ¡°And you did not think that a visitor across our borders should be discussed in person first? That you should have gathered us to consider the matter? Or at least have fetched the message yourself? That her religion and nationality, not to mention species, might be a major consideration to whether she should be allowed to so much as have an audience with you?¡±


    ¡°She arrived bearing your family crest, Olfeiros, and I could not deny an audience to one bearing a Ceann¡¯s crest. By the time I understood her connection was to Fennorin, I had judged her to be harmless.¡±


    ¡°And you judged wrong. No outsider is harmless, and that is especially true of Fennorin, who has become like an outsider to us. Brothers and sisters, see for yourself the irresponsible negligence of Belaer Silverstem. He has ever been too friendly with the outside world, initiating trade that we did not need and relations we did not welcome. Now, his fondness has gone too far, and he seeks to allow other ideas into our nation, foreign and dangerous. Soon, Ceann Cleartide will testify that not only the human, but also two others were seen inside the Barrier. Belaer is nothing if not a traitor to us, and even more so his daughter, who took part directly in the theft.¡±


    A shadow passed over the sun, darkening the room.


    My daughter? A traitor? Belaer ground his teeth. How dare he.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough, Ceann Willowbirth,¡± Vyrrel stated from her throne. ¡°If you have no more facts to share with the Court, we will move onward.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Olfeiros leaned back from the edge of his booth. ¡°I am finished.¡±


    ¡°Belaer Silverstem, do you find this testimony accurate in its facts and details, to the extent of your knowledge?¡± Vyrrel asked.


    Anger pounded in Belaer, hammering at the peaceful expression he always strove to maintain. He could not deny any of it, not even that he hoped to introduce outside ideas into their nation. Every year, the people of Hethbarn advanced as they discovered more uses for the magic and technology they explored. Meanwhile, his people had not changed in the half-millennia that had passed since his own coming-of-age ceremony. But this has nothing to do with that.


    If he explained that, it would only put more blame on Galendria. If he did not allow them to convict him of collusion, they would instead accuse her.


    The fuzz in his brain urged him to speak his agreement. ¡°Yes, the facts are true.¡± An unfamiliar growl found its way into his voice. ¡°However, the presentation is skewed. In no way could Galendria be considered a traitor to our people.¡±


    Olfeiros raised one of his bright eyebrows. ¡°Then would you claim her guilt as your own? Has she not broken the law, to your knowledge, except at your direction?¡±


    Belaer¡¯s thoughts swirled like mist and his vision blurred. He wanted to claim her guilt, to take it from her. She had too long a life ahead of her to become a criminal. She loved this country too much. But he couldn¡¯t. He could see his daughter humming, a vase forming in her hands, and heard his own voice reprimand her. He knew she kept practicing that magic.


    ¡°She has before broken the law against my will.¡± Did I just say that? The words had escaped him like a held breath. ¡°But not in any way related to this,¡± he added quickly.


    A hissing of whispers waved through the room as her crumbling image of the perfect Etnfrandian collapsed. What laws?¨Cthey must have wondered. What has she hidden from us?


    ¡°Then what of you? Did you allow the other two creatures to cross the Barrier?¡± Willowbirth asked.


    ¡°No.¡± Belaer glared up.


    More whispering.


    ¡°The gate requires the Silverstem sigil. And your daughter, whom you know to be capable of breaking the law, was the only other person bearing the sigil that night, correct?¡±


    Belaer hung his head. ¡°Yes.¡± He had realized this the moment he had heard of the other two outsiders. He would have claimed someone must have stolen her sigil, but she was more capable than that. And then there were the circumstances¡­


    ¡°And you did not give her permission to open the gate?¡±


    He felt he would choke on the words. He struggled to bite back the truth, but it pushed itself from him. ¡°No.¡± Burning tears began to form behind his eyes. ¡°If she opened the gate, she opened it on her own.¡± The pressure of the fog abated, allowing his mind to wonder yet again why she had done this. She was too strong-willed to have been pressured into it. Whatever she had done, it had been of her own free will.


    He looked up to see Olfeiros¡¯ brows cocked up in genuine surprise. He expected me to be guilty. The expression lasted but a heartbeat. ¡°That concludes my testimony. Now we will hear of the account on behalf of the Everguard from Ceann Urivalur Cleartide.¡±


    Olfeiros sat down, allowing the sun-kissed Ceann of Militant Arts stand. Belaer barely listened as she recounted events of a chase, of Gale, Fenn, the Scholar Mellark, and two others escaping into the forest. He had practically condemned his daughter, and nothing could be more woeful than that. He spoke when prompted to affirm that the description of the smaller creature matched the identity of the elven guide he¡¯d seen with the Scholar-Savant. There was a small stir at the revelation that this was an elf, but Belaer hardly paid it mind. His own daughter, unbeknownst to them, was a Wood Elf adopted into their lands. An elf was no more dangerous than another stranger.


    Other than that, he had no need to speak. Urivalur did not play the same games as Willowbirth. Rather, she was an elf who sought justice with a swift, straightforward conclusion.


    Unlike Willowbirth, she would not spin words. Unlike Willowbirth, she would not flex the letter of the law until it was bent into the shape of a weapon. Willowbirth. The very name made him seeth.


    ¡°We will now,¡± Athyr Vyrrel announced, ¡°hear the conclusions and recommendations of the Ceann Court before I make my pronouncement.¡±


    With Belaer¡¯s own chair empty, the first to stand was Ceann Urivalar on the Highfather¡¯s left. ¡°Based on the testimonies of my guard, of the Ceanns¡¯, and the words of Ceann Willowbirth, I conclude that though Ceann Belaer Silverstem may not be guilty of collusion himself, pending further investigation, he is guilty of risking the safety of his brethren, and should be removed from his Ceannship and placed outside of all positions of influence he once enjoyed.¡±


    A just ruling, one not unexpected from Urivalar. It dealt with the immediate danger without imprisoning one who may not have intended harm.


    The Ceann of Cultivation was next, a shorter elfman with wavy hair. ¡°I believe we lack significant information that could only be provided by questioning the individuals involved in the crime. Ceann Silverstem is currently a hazard, and I am uncomfortable with the idea of him in the City, the Court, or alongside our other citizens. Therefore, my recommendation is to have him stripped of his title, remove his access to those of influence, and imprison him until the full truth is revealed.¡±


    It was a harsh and cautious recommendation. Something about this clearly evoked fear in the elf. Or perhaps someone else has¡­ Belaer glanced at Willowbirth, measuring his expression. It was grave and revealed nothing.


    The Ceann of Learning stood, hair falling loose about his waist. ¡°I would convict him of negligence, but not collusion. I do believe that Ceann Silverstem has much to offer society, even if he has shown severe failings as the Master of Trade. I recommend he should not be ostracized, but rather redirected in his talents. He is, after all, a skilled orator and poet, as well as a patient and nurturing teacher. In this matter, I find it likely that his blind love for his daughter and her chosen patron-to-be likely precipitated his mistakes. That fatherly spirit could be a benefit elsewhere. I suggest he be relegated to a teaching position in a small town.¡± The gentle elfman gave a soft nod to Belaer as he sat back down.


    Even this attempt to soften Belaer¡¯s sentence held an insult. Blind love. He could see as plain as the faces of the Court around him that Gale and Fenn were not threats to anyone¡¯s safety. If they intended harm, Urivular¡¯s testimony would have included details of grave wounds, not the slight injuries she described. Most were more insults than injuries.


    Belaer kept his expression guarded as he nodded his appreciation ever so slightly. Ceann Moonbreeze had always teased that he wished Belaer had become an instructor in his ranks rather than involved in business and politics. His motives were not pure, his judgment insulting, but Belaer should still show appreciation for the gesture.


    Finally, beside the Ar-Athyr, Olfeiros stood. ¡°My brothers and sisters, I do not believe we should entrust this elf with our safety, our business, our friendship, nor the minds of our youth. If, as we hope, the man is blinded by his love for his unruly daughter, then he is blind indeed, and not a trustworthy leader, teacher, or friend. To appreciate beauty, one must be able to see. His daughter has betrayed him; she has betrayed all of us, alongside Fennorin. And he would have us what? Forgive them? No.


    ¡°Many of you will not wish to believe it, but it is the conclusion of the facts presented today: Belaer is guilty of negligence, collusion, and likely worse. The Silverstems have been hiding something, and we can no longer trust them, father or daughter. My recommendation is to have Belaer imprisoned, his home searched, and his daughter arrested and imprisoned if again she ever shows her face.¡±


    Belaer could hear the room hold its breath. A rage burned within him. His own sentence, whatever it may be, he could face. But to declare her a criminal without her having her own trial was simply outrageous.


    Athyr Vyrrel stood, prompting Willowbirth to lift his magnanimous robes and take his seat. All eyes were trained on her, collective breath still withheld.


    ¡°Before I announce my conclusion, I will offer the accused one more chance to defend himself.¡± She looked to Belaer, a light in her eyes pleading with him to give her a reason not to imprison him. ¡°Have you any last plea, my son?¡±


    ¡°I would, Athyr, take my words to defend not my honor but my daughter¡¯s.¡±


    The Highfather¡¯s shoulders fell, but she did not silence him.


    ¡°If I have been fooled by blind love for Galendria, so have we all. And if we are fooled by blind love, yet so also is she, for she is very taken with the lad Fennorin Willowbirth.¡±


    Another ripple of surprised murmurs came up from the crowd, and a sneer from Ceann Willowbirth. Belaer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He had raised a sword, and where they now expected him to cut down Fenn, he would instead fall on it. It was time someone stood by the correct Willowbirth.


    ¡°Yet I do not believe the boy to be ill-intentioned.¡± The truth of the statement let it slide easily from him.


    Ceann Willowbirth¡¯s attention snapped to him, his jaw hardening.


    ¡°It is no secret the lad¡¯s relationship with his father has been strained, even from boyhood. If anything, he is curious and seeks only to know some of that knowledge his father, and Olfeiros¡¯ ancestors before that, have deemed ¡®dangerous¡¯ and ¡®un-traditional.¡¯ As misplaced as this curiosity may be, the lad has been driven to extremes by it before. After all, he did depart our nation and seek an education outside our borders. It seems reasonable to conclude that he has taken the artifacts and disappeared in order, not to overthrow or cause harm, but rather to discover things kept secret by our honored House of Tradition. Why would a lad normally quite timid and mild act in such a way if not highly motivated? And what motivation for a scholar other than knowledge withheld?¡±


    Ceann Willowbirth rose from his seat, expression guarded, but eyes glittering. Belaer stared him down. Yes, if you will make me a deluded old bear with a too-big heart, so will I be. Better than a spinner of half-truths. ¡°If my daughter has followed him into so-called betrayal, it is only for her fancy for Fenn, a lad who hates secrets. A sentiment I can hardly discredit him for.¡±


    Color, for once, spread across Willowbirth¡¯s face. ¡°So, you do know what the boy is seeking? And have withheld it?¡± Accusation burned in his voice like a sheer cold that left the skin withered and purple.


    The fog swirled again, prompting him to answer truthfully. ¡°I do not. I speak only in hypotheticals based on his character and past behavior.¡± It makes sense, though, doesn¡¯t it?


    ¡°So,¡± the snake-like curl found its way back into his proud expression, ¡°You would twist a narrative that writes me as some Ceann of Secrets? You would defame my age-old position when you could not uphold yours? Mine was created for the protection of the people, for their guidance and best interests. If Fenn seeks what we have declared un-traditional, he seeks the harm of the nation, whether he means to or not. But you,¡± Olfeiros slammed his fist into the half-wall in front of him. ¡°You would, as you lose your own position, reach into mine? You reveal your true nature.¡± He spoke loudly, but clearly, despite his feigned loss of temper. ¡°You may be green and peaceful on the outside, but the inside is sticky and poisonous, you fly-trap!¡±


    All at once, the room was in an uproar. An elf clamored to her neighbor about the disorderliness of it. Others wondered at it in anxious tones. A poetically-minded elf began spouting verse. Scandal, he called it.


    ¡°You speak of yourself, you death-eating fungus!¡± Belaer withered at the sound of his wife¡¯s voice piercing above the noise. She was not an outspoken she-elf, so the outburst only testified of how irate she must be.


    The loud, clear clang of metal on stone disrupted the throng, and everyone turned their attention to the Ar-Athyr, who stood with her ceremonial dagger flat-side-down on the edge of her booth. ¡°Enough! I should think of my children as better behaved than this.¡±


    The reprimand was enough to replace everyone in their seats with the sound of rustling fabric.


    ¡°It is time I announced my sentence.¡± She gave a pitying look to Belaer, shadowed with disappointment. ¡°Based on the recommendations of my Court and the Testimony of the Accused, I have come to a compromise.¡±


    Belaer felt his heart pounding in his chest. What have I done to myself?


    ¡°Belaer Silverstem shall be placed under house arrest outside the city. He will not be allowed to enter Ar-Etnfrandia, nor host classes, meetings, or other activities with multiple persons without supervision from both the Houses of Tradition and Militant Arts. Furthermore, if he should be seen in the city, or should attempt to leave Etnfrandia, he shall be put in prison. His home, his documents, and his acts up to now as Ceann shall be put under investigation, and he will never again be allowed to act with any authority, either as Ceann or in any other capacity, for the rest of his days.¡±


    Belaer hung his head. It wasn¡¯t a stone cell under the mountain, but it still hurt. He had enjoyed his days as Ceann, cultivating new relations with the outside world, as well as nourishing their nation¡¯s markets. Will a new Ceann continue to foster knowledge of the rest of Hethbarn, or of Allspeach? He would have no influence over that. Yet, with that personal loss, he could not help but think of Gale. Will she be safe to return? He turned his attention back to the Highfather.


    ¡°And,¡± she had not quite finished, ¡°due to the unique situation we are in, I will add an anecdote that is not a part of the result of this trial.¡±


    She gazed about the room, chin raised with authority. ¡°If the young lady Galendria does return, her trial will be treated as its own unique case, and any evidence presented here will need to be represented again. For now, the prior warrant for her arrest to be held for questioning stands.¡±


    Finally, she met Belaer¡¯s eyes, the edge fading as they took on their old, familiar softness. ¡°And, Belaer, I do hope you enjoy retirement.¡±


    She looked up and beckoned for her Ceanns to rise. ¡°The Court is now dismissed,¡± she announced. The Highfather and Council nodded their heads to the people, and the people bowed, Belaer with them.


    Then he found himself dragged from the Court, hands still bound, as the sun plunged under the horizon, casting darkness over his homeland. He was no longer a Ceann, a teacher, an artist, or even a full citizen of Etnfrandia. He was a criminal met with harsh stares from people once warm and familiar to him.


    In the chill of dusk, he could hear his wife sob.


    And he hoped¨Cfor that was all he could do¨C that Galendria, wherever she had run, was safe. And that, when she did return, she would return with a stellar explanation and a ready plan for escape.

 Book 1 Part 2 - Chapter 21: Visions and Dreams

    Among the servants of Dervalia, there was an elf known for his wisdom. He could recite all of the oral traditions of the elves and reproduce any of the songs: the epics of old, or the poems of new. It happened that when the whole assembly gathered for the Celebration of Elves, the Highfather was so pleased by him that he gifted him with a drop of his own Loth, and he became the Advisor, Cialmara. It was given to him to Instruct the generations in all of the Knowledge of the Elves, for there was no quandary for which he could not offer advice, nor any question for which he could not craft an answer.


    -The Faerie Beginning, c. BUE 1000


    <hr>


    Galendria


    A late-season blizzard swirled around her parents in their exposed work linens. They stumbled forward, clinging to each other for warmth and what little comfort they could find. An Everguard stood beside them, her eyes like coals of burning black in a white world of falling ashes. She reached out and ripped the Silverstem crest from around her father¡¯s neck only to shove him roughly back with a small pouch of rations. Next to the guard, a shadowed figure in the storm hissed his fangs in a satisfied grin, claw-like fingers tearing at the dismantled Ceann¡¯s robe he held.


    A third, final figure stood stiff as the stone under the snow and erect like a mountain. Her voice rang out clear over the wailing winds. ¡°You are hereby stripped of your Etnfrandian Citizenship and exiled from this land. To return would be to face death.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Ar-Athyr,¡± her father bowed to the stately she-elf, accepting his punishment with the grace of a king. ¡°May the Winds blow warm and fresh streams ever guide you.¡±


    As he turned, Gale could see his ear tips were already blue from the cold.


    No, Gale tried to protest, but no sound came out. No, he didn¡¯t do anything wrong. But she had no voice, no strength. She was as unliving as the water on the wind, a cloud of nothing in the air. She had no power, only despair.


    Her father stepped away into the whirling veil of snow, becoming a shadow as he disappeared into the unknown world.


    He¡¯ll die out there. Please don¡¯t do this, she railed against the storm, against the powerlessness, against the cruelty.


    The earth shook beneath her, then all around her. A hand gripped her shoulder. ¡°Atti!¡± Gale gasped and sat up. Blue walls hung close around her and she whirled to see the thick, unnaturally dark-brown hand that squeezed her. Gale flailed back. ¡°Matta? Atti?¡±


    ¡°Gale, are you alright?¡± The rich voice of Mellark stirred her from her panic. The round face and large eyes that met hers were wrinkled with worry.


    Gale tried to steady herself. Something tickled her face, and she brushed it to find her cheek wet with tears. ¡°My Atti¡¯s in trouble,¡± she whispered, rising to her feet. ¡°I¡¯ve got to help him.¡±


    Mell¡¯s soft hand caught hers and pulled her down. ¡°Gale, now is not the time to do anything. We¡¯ve barely gotten a few hours of rest. You¡¯ve just been dreaming.¡±


    Gale blinked the woman into focus. She wasn¡¯t enclosed in walls, but sheltered in her tent with Mell, still in the Wildlands. ¡°I was dreaming?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you were crying out in your sleep,¡± Mell whispered. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    Now that she was awake, it didn¡¯t make sense that they¡¯d be sending her father away in a snowstorm. And Etnfrandian¡¯s didn¡¯t have black eyes or pointed teeth. She tried to banish the phantom creatures from her mind, but they circled around with her memories of the heartbreak until her tears fell unchecked. ¡°They were exiling my father under threat of death.¡± She looked down, not willing to admit the more fantastical aspects of the dream. She trusted Mell to handle her volatile emotions with care, but it still had only been a few days since they¡¯d met. ¡°And in the middle of a snowstorm.¡±


    Mell was silent for a moment. Finally, she leaned forward and rubbed Gale¡¯s back. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s okay. It was just a dream. It¡¯s over now.¡±


    It was the kind of comfort one might offer a small child. Is that how Mell thinks of me? She did feel small, and the sincerity of it was comforting. ¡°But what if something like that really is happening? Not exiled in snow, but imprisoned forever? Or if they won¡¯t leave him alone until he tells them everything?¡± She shivered, despite the humid air. ¡°They¡¯ll ask him about me, Mell. He won¡¯t have any answers for them about our departure, and they¡¯ll believe he¡¯s hiding something. They might ask about everything.¡±


    Her magic, her adoption; it could all be laid bare at the wrong moment.


    Mell still petted her back. ¡°But they won¡¯t actually harm him, right?¡±


    Gale couldn¡¯t help but gawk at Mell. Harm him directly? Who would¡­ ¡°Do humans do that?¡±


    Mell took a deep breath. ¡°Depends on which humans and the era of history, but yes. Don¡¯t judge us too harshly, Gale. We don¡¯t have as many years to find the truth of things, and even so, other longer-lived species, even elves, have been guilty of it at times.¡±


    Gale¡¯s gut twisted an objection. ¡°That¡¯s horrible! I can¡¯t believe Fenn chose to live in such a nation for so long!¡±


    Mell¡¯s hand hesitated on her back. Whatever she wished to say, she held it in.


    I hope I didn¡¯t offend her too much, but it¡¯s just brutal. Gale shivered at the memory of her father being swallowed by the dream-storm. Brutal indeed. ¡°While they may not hurt him, I still wish I could know if he was alright. He looked so forlorn and betrayed, and I could do nothing to defend him.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so it¡¯s the guilt that brought on the dreams.¡± Mell patted her back one more time and then leaned back. ¡°Sweetie, he¡¯s probably doing fine. No one gains a position of political power like that without being able to dance around a few tough questions. Besides, it¡¯s out of your control. And most importantly, he¡¯ll know that you didn¡¯t mean to hurt him, right?¡±


    Maybe her father was an expert dancer, but engaging an acquaintance in a proverbial six-step was much easier when nobody had mind-reading spells. Yet, just as her father would have faith in her, she should have the same faith in him. ¡°I still wish I could know what¡¯s happened to him.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Mell sighed and began reaching into her bag. ¡°I suppose we could try and find out.¡±


    ¡°No we can¡¯t!¡± Fresh pain welled up in her, bleeding into her voice. ¡°We¡¯re leaving the Door behind us, and everyone says it¡¯s dangerous to return!¡±


    Mell offered her a pitying smile, ¡°Easy, kiddo. I didn¡¯t mean sneaking back to Etnfrandia. I leave that kind of business to Syrdin.¡±


    Gale recoiled. Syrdin the goblin-thief. Her one complaint against Mell was her faith in that creature.


    ¡°I meant we could do a bit of scrying.¡±


    Gale¡¯s attention snapped to what Mell retrieved: the wooden box that contained a rectangular crystal. In the Center of Culture, she had seen a yellowed magic with a musty smell emanating from it, much like Mell¡¯s circlet. ¡°What is scrying?¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not something I can normally do, but fortunately, this artifact is made for it. It should work like looking through a crystal ball.¡± She smiled warmly, clearly expecting her words to make sense.


    ¡°A crystal ball?¡±


    Mell¡¯s lips closed in a poor attempt to hide her amusement. ¡°Um, well maybe it¡¯s easier if I just explain the artifact.¡± She pulled the glittering gem from the box. ¡°This crystal can be used in two ways. The first is to catch a short glimpse of the future. The other is to spy on someone right now for about a minute or two.¡± She offered it to Gale. ¡°Normally, I¡¯d look for you, but since you have capacities for magic, I¡¯ll allow you to do the honors.¡±


    Gale reached out with both hands and grasped this chunk of hope, staring into it. It was cold and clear, and small rainbows of light sparkled in the cut corners. ¡°How does it work?¡±


    ¡°You hold it in front of you, like this,¡± Mell mimed holding the crystal in with both hands, ¡°and then concentrate your magical energy into the crystal. At the same time, focus on the person you want to see. That¡¯s very important. You must picture them clearly in your mind and let the crystal do the rest.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all?¡± Gale asked. ¡°No incantation?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    She held the crystal aloft as Mell had shown, then glanced at her. Anxiety bubbled in her stomach. What if it doesn¡¯t work?


    What if it does?


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Mell nodded affirmation.


    She faced the crystal and poured her energy toward it. It began to glow faintly in her hands. She imagined her father, his smooth face and gentle smile, the warmth of his encouragement, and the sadness of his rebukes. A mist swirled within it, and for a moment she feared she would see a winter storm. She refocused her mind on his face. The mist began to take shape, color spreading through the void. It was her father. It worked!


    He was outside of his country home, and spots of green grass sprouted in patches between the pines there. He wore only his brown linen garments, as in her dream, but he was not chilled. Her mother was behind him, and an Everguard or two seemed to face him. Though she could not see them, they were removing bindings from his hands.


    ¡°Sorry, sir,¡± Galendria heard a voice she couldn¡¯t quite place echo in her mind. ¡°I wish we didn¡¯t have to do this.¡±


    Gale held her breath. Please don¡¯t take his sigil.


    ¡°Worry not, young Deepsun, it is only as much as I deserve, no more and no less.¡± It was strange how the words bypassed her ears, and yet his voice resonated within her, clear and familiar. Her heart burned.


    Her father, with that noble grace he always bore, reached up around his neck and removed the pendant hanging there. He handed it to the Everguard.


    She clasped its twin where it hung under her dress. No!


    A tan hand appeared with a beautifully carved wooden replacement, which her father strung around his neck. The fibers of Gale¡¯s being relaxed. He¡¯s not exiled.


    ¡°Oh, Atti,¡± she heard herself whisper.


    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± the Everguard spoke softly, ¡°I appreciate what you said about Fenn. As I¡¯ve told you before, I don¡¯t believe he means harm either.¡±


    Gale¡¯s eyes grew wide and she leaned in. Who is that?


    ¡°You¡¯ve told me before? Lad¨CCaptain, when was this?¡±


    ¡°On the night of the incident. I saw you from the wall¨C¡±


    Her father¡¯s brow only creased in further confusion, and he leaned conspiratorially inward. ¡°Sir, I was not alerted until the whole chase was finished. I was in my home.¡±


    Color began to drain from the vision, their voices growing distant. No, Gale urged it, I want to hear what they say. This conversation seemed important.


    ¡°Please tell me exactly what hap¨C¡± Then it cut off. The time was up.


    A final drop of relief slipped down her cheek. Truthfully, it was not hard to gather what had happened. The Guard must have spoken to Fenn that night while he was disguised as her father. She wondered if that had put her father under more suspicion. In any case, he was safely home. Her best guess was that he was being forcibly retired and had been granted to live in his small country cabin on the mountainside. Better than that, the guard had implied that he had spoken well of Fenn. Oh foolish Atti, you should have distanced yourself from us. But she smiled as she thought it. He would always have faith in her and now, it seemed, also in Fenn.


    ¡°Well?¡± Mell prompted.


    Gale wiped her cheeks and let her smile show. ¡°He¡¯s alright. He¡¯s perfectly alright.¡±


    Mell huffed with relief, and it occurred to Gale that partly it might be relief that an emotional crisis had been averted. ¡°That¡¯s good then. Maybe you can get a little sleep.¡±


    Gale nodded.


    ¡°Great, then I¡¯ll go take watch so poor Fenn can rest, too. It¡¯s got to be near that time. Rest well.¡±


    Gale watched her leave, and then, as the tent flap stilled, picked up the crystal again. She held it aloft, gazing into the multitude of colorful bows dancing under the blue reflection of the tent. Could I see more? She willed her magic in. It refused, as if simultaneously full and drained. She sighed and lowered it in her lap. It would be too much to ask for such a power to be unlimited.


    She set it in the box, but hesitated before she closed it. Something about the glimmer of the crystal seemed familiar. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the Truth¡¯s Eye. She turned it over, watching its crystal embedded in the stone cylinder glitter in the same manner as the scrying one.


    What if? She held it up to her eye and tried to pour her magic into it. It didn¡¯t respond.


    She lowered it to her lap, shoulders sagging with disappointment. Instead, she recalled the patches of green grass behind her father, the dignity with which he had accepted his fate, and smiled. I know my Matta and Atti are safe, and that is enough. She pocketed the Truth¡¯s Eye and laid down to peaceful sleep.


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    Where heretofore my thoughts had been of the gods and Fae, I find them now on Hethbarn and Etnfrandia. When did we forget our path? Who carved our gods into the very foundations of our City, and who forgot them?


    Simpler, yet equally unanswerable: how is it that my father possessed an enchantment? I can only assume it was placed on the bow. It is, by far, the most exquisite work of the set. I can¡¯t help but feel that there is more to these artifacts, more to all that my father has hidden. If I had never left Etnfrandia, if I had behaved as he had hoped, perhaps he would have told me. Perhaps I would have known my tribe, my natural magic, and what shreds of knowledge remain in the Center of Culture.


    But then where would I be? Without knowledge of the world outside, entrapped in a life I was unsuited for. I would have never found this place.


    However perilous, it is a discovery worth sacrifice. Even to have only met a Watcher, my journey already feels justified.


    My journey. But what if she had slayed Krid? Or any of us? The cost to this world would be high, perhaps too high for me to bear. But objectively? What cost is worth the Truth? I do not know.


    Today, we begin our journey onward. Let us see what wonders we can uncover, what I can bring back to our lost people. Perhaps the betrayal I have inflicted on them, the pain felt by Kit, and doubtless by the likely former-Ceann Silverstem, will be worth it in the end, even to them. Only, I hope to sacrifice no more tha¨C


    ¡°Lorthen! This constant sun is confusing,¡± Mell¡¯s hushed comment behind him made Fenn jump and drop the loose page he had been writing on. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for my watch?¡±


    She looked surprisingly alert for someone who had only slept a few hours, especially a human. Usually, she needed to be awakened for her watch.¡°I suppose it is.¡± Fenn retrieved the paper and folded it into his satchel¡¯s inner pocket. He could stitch the page into his notebook once he retrieved it from Syrdin. ¡°It almost seems itchy, doesn¡¯t it? Having the sun on you all the time?¡±


    Mell cocked her brows. ¡°You may want to write that one down. It disturbs my sleep, but I¡¯d never say it itches.¡±


    ¡°I just mean it wears on you after a while, like a scratchy fabric or a wet sock.¡± Fenn tried to explain his discomfort in understandable terms, but the feeling wasn¡¯t something concrete. ¡°I never imagined I would miss the moon so much.¡±


    Mell grunted in thought. ¡°I thought the new romantic movement would completely go over your head, and here you are composing in it.¡±


    The romantics? As in the writers of flowing, emotional verse? He chuckled, realizing how his words had sounded. For a moment, he felt they were back in the Assandial libraries, discussing literature by the hearth.


    ¡°Alright, enough of that, or I¡¯ll start writing prose about the depth of your eyebags. Go to bed. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow.¡± Mell scooted him toward his tent, and then turned and plopped in the middle of camp with a ¡°rest well.¡±


    She may be alert, but her body is tired. He smiled at the familiarity of it. The dry jokes, the mother-like shooing out of her library; he had missed it. He stepped into the shade of his tent and was immediately reminded why he had been writing on scrap paper.


    Syrdin still lay sleeping, zheir back to him, the notebook by zheir head. If he wanted to retrieve it, now was the moment. Bent under the tent roof, he crept around zhem. Zhe stirred, and Fenn held his breath.


    ¡°All is divided,¡± zhe mumbled, curling inward. That left the notebook further from zheir head. It also pulled back zheir hood a little further.


    He had seen glimpses of zheir lower face. A piece of a sharp chin, the flash of a toothy grin or a lavender-colored sneer. But now he could see more: the square line of zheir jaw as it ran to zheir ear; the white marbling on zheir amethyst skin; the bend of a nose that was broad, like Mell¡¯s, but smooth. He found himself staring as he snatched his book, studying what he could of zheir features. Even among the colonies in Brikhvarnn, he had not seen a skin color quite so rich or varied. Most had been a frosty shade of gray, or perhaps a muted lavender. Most of them had worn a shock of pure-white hair. Syrdin was no exception. A strand fell across zheir nose and created a stark contrast against the bunched fabric of zheir cowl.


    Syrdin¡¯s nose wrinkled. ¡°All divided¡­reborn¡­¡± It wasn¡¯t quite Elvish, but a dialect mixed with the murky language of the Dark.


    Fenn felt a chill like icy water dripping down his spine. He wanted to back out of the tent. Mell would only shove him back in here. He had studied the dialect in preparation for his trip to the Brikhvarnni colonies where he had used it to learn some of their history. But to hear Syrdin speak it with such mystical words set him on edge. All divided, reborn.


    What does it mean? There was no telling what nightmares would haunt zhem as zhe slept. Perhaps zhe was only dreaming of old doctrines from days lived in the Darkcaverns. Zhe wouldn¡¯t be the first colonist he¡¯d met with history there. But then zhe would have known what glowmoss was.


    Fenn shoved his book into his satchel and likewise slid himself into bed. The last thing he wanted was for Syrdin to catch him staring at a face he wasn¡¯t supposed to have seen, listening to zheir dreams. He hated how much he feared zhem. He had no reason to believe zhe meant harm, other than a fear of zheir race and zheir affinity for knives. But I have no reason besides Mell¡¯s recommendation to believe otherwise, do I?


    Fenn reached into his sack of magic baubles and pulled out a rolled bundle of pink fabric. The soft material was embroidered with moons and stars and tapered from a round, open bottom to a point. Night Cap: Wear for Sweet Dreams, the edge read in Allspeach. He ran his finger over the silver-threaded runes inside the rim, considering. He didn¡¯t like to rely on magic for sleep, but between the violence of the day and his trepidation for what awaited, he doubted he could on his own. He sighed and set it on his head. When he laid back, he set his mind on the secrets of his people, rather than Syrdin¡¯s, until dreams of a people filled with magic and knowledge whisked him away.

 Bonus Short Story: To Grow A Heart

    Kridarnn


    ¡°Krid, I¡¯ve been wondering for a while, how did you come to know Fenn such that you would follow him here? You don¡¯t¡­ well you aren¡¯t at all interested in the Fae.¡± Galendria spoke over a glass of sweet fae wine, swirling the aromatic stuff in a delicately carved chalice.


    ¡°It was an expedition of mine. He helped me, and we became unlikely friends¨C¡± Fenn seemed to feel it was a question for him, but Gale had addressed Krid.


    He cleared his throat, cutting off the Newt. If any had questioned it but Fair Gale, he would give only the short answer: a need for support, and Fenn¡¯s answer. But this was Fenn¡¯s betrothed. More than that, anyone with eyes and even a tooth of sense could see the agelessness of their friendship, the deepness of their care. It was why they bickered. There was too much they expected to not have to say.


    ¡°The only place to begin is the beginning. My people value the growers and shapers of this world more than any other peoples. Food and water support the lives of thousands, and the smiths and tradesmen provide them with the tools they need as well as the tools for the ones who protect. My bloodclan wished for me to follow in the steps of my fathers and become a shaper of metals. But Fate cursed me to be an enemy with the harmer and at odds with the forge. No number of years could train my hands for that battle. I sought solace in the comradery of men and women who, like myself, could better protect those who grow and shape than join them.


    ¡°It was among these men that I met Fennorin, for I rescued him on a scouting patrol. And as he bunked in our scoutpost, studying the colony of elves at our border, he and I became friends. He asked me many questions of our people and history, and cleverly avoided the question of family. In a year, I went from Recruit to Squadman, and in another I was Squadleader. And Fenn yet remained. One day, he was there when my father¡¯s brother came to confront me. He crashed into the tents and harassed my squad until they sent him to me.


    ¡°¡®Kirdarnn Bluescale, he said, your father commands you return by the first of summer. If you would not come, he issues the Duel of Rights. If I were you, I would return. Few are stronger than him.¡¯


    ¡°Those were his words and such his advice before he left. I knew I could not meet my father in a duel alone. Though I had become skilled, fighting drakemen twice my strength and age, I held little hope. He was a man with thick hide, long spines, and great breath. To meet him in the duel, I would need a witness and second who would testify that I was in my rights to disobey him and to meet him with me in the duel, as he would also bring a second, any from our clan he chose.


    ¡°I tell you these things about my family. If any of you travels to Brikhvarnn, leave this knowledge behind.¡± Krid gave a hard look around the table, thankful that Syrdin had disappeared from the revelry and feasting some time ago.


    ¡°So Fenn was sitting in his cot near mine, and I thought he had not heard from the way he held his book still. But he set his aside. ¡®Krid,¡¯ he said, ¡®I would not pry into your family. But if you need support, I would offer it.¡¯


    ¡°His words touched a place in me I did not know, and with only the two of us there, I told him everything: of my desire to work only in the Scoutguard, and my bloodclan¡¯s demands. He offered many words of courage and pain, sharing his own father¡¯s demands from long long ago, and how he had left to be free of it. ¡®Krid,¡¯ he told me, ¡®you were as built to lead drakemen as I am to learn. You protect. You save people, as you saved me. Your squad, many of them your seniors by age, admire you and would follow you to the end. Every day, they learn your compassion and strength. Your father is wrong. If you must duel him to be free, then you should.¡¯


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    ¡°I considered this, but could not imagine who I could ask. The squadmen? They would follow, but they would risk involving their own clans in a squabble of mine. ¡®Fenn, there are none I could ask to go with me,¡¯ I said.


    ¡°Then,¡¯ Fenn was not done, ¡®though there are many stronger blades than mine, I would offer it all the same, if you would take it. If it is allowed.¡¯¡±


    All grew quiet around the great table. No one ate or drank, all eyes on Krid, waiting. Only the jolly song of the partying fae beyond the trees desecrated the honorable silence.


    ¡°I tried to refuse, I thought he might come to harm, but that¡¯s when he explained to me how he knew his way around a sword. I couldn¡¯t believe it. But sure enough, as soon as I put in his hands a small, nimble blade, he went through some forms I didn¡¯t know, and they were graceful and swift, suitable for a dainty race of elves. So we agreed to meet my father in a duel, and I had hope again. I took a leave and we journeyed together. On that journey, we spoke of many things of this world, of Fate, of magic, the realms. But it was not until the duel that we were forged as brothers.


    ¡°My father met me for the duel. When we faced off, circling, the Testimony demanded the calling of our Seconds, and I called first. When Fennorin stepped forward, my father laughed, long and powerfully. He called, then, as his Second, the youngest and weakest man of age in our clan, my littlest brother. He was barely of age. ¡®Let him gain experience,¡¯ my father said. He hoped to shame us.


    ¡°I had instructed Fenn that he need not defeat his opponent, only survive to allow me to defeat mine and rally against his. This was an opponent I judged Fenn could defeat, but true to my instruction, he did not do the lad this dishonor. He met him with crossed swords, parrying and dodging, allowing the lad no hits, but not hitting him, though I knew he could. For a drake to be defeated by an outsider would be a shame on my family. Even the clan could see what Fenn did for the boy.


    ¡°I battled my father, and in the strength of my youth, overpowered him, landing a second and third blow after his second one. For a moment, I thought he would accuse me of cheating, but he took his defeat honorably.


    ¡°I cornered my brother, and he forfeit, and we had won the day. I could not have freed myself from the rule of my bloodclan without Fenn, and I owe him everything for that. Not only did he do me this favor, but he respected my family and culture better than many dragonfolk would. That day, I swore to him the oath of a brother, that if ever he needed me, I would answer. So here I am.¡±


    Fenn spoke from his place across the table beside Fair Gale, his head bowed. ¡°I made it clear in my letter, Krid, that I would not use this occasion to call on the oath, that it was too great a favor for the little I¡¯ve done for you.¡±


    ¡°Brother, you cannot ask too much of me for all the good you have done this drakeman¡¯s heart.¡± Krid tapped his fist to his chest in a salute. Fenn always underestimated his value to others. Kindness and faithfulness may not be listed as valuable attributes often, but they were invaluable in a friend, a brother. While Krid might consider himself to now be a ¡°shaper¡± of hearts, it was Fenn that he would call a grower of them, the most honorable calling of all; for when Krid had thought he had no heart left to give, Fenn had nurtured one to life.

 Holiday Special: The Winter Solstice Part 1/2

    Every year in Etnfrandia, four festivals are celebrated: The Flower Festival at the Spring Equinox, The Summer Solstice, the Harvest Festival on the Autumnal Equinox, and the Winter Solstice. They are to the locals like Holidays, only there is no religion, only a religious rigor to the traditions of the events.


    Fennorin Willowbirth


    ¡°An Etnfrandian¡¯s Explanation of The Everglow Nation¡±


    The Explorer¡¯s Magazine


    UE 2343


    <hr>


    UE 2368. 5 years pre-Recollection.


    Fennorin


    There was something incredibly empty about crowds. They mingled and gathered and parted in a way that mathematics could predict, Fenn was certain, and the conversations were no less calculable. According to everyone, it was ¡°a beautiful snow for a Winter Festival,¡± their fathers and mothers and children were well, and a whole lot of people wanted to know who was getting betrothed to whom. Their voices raised a muted din in the mist of snow, rhythmic over the sway of music.


    Fenn observed through the screen of flakes wishing he could throw off the long, unfortunately elaborate robe of a Myc-Ceann, a Councilman¡¯s son, that choked around his shirt collar. Light from trees of polished silver sparkled in the fruit suspended from their branches and glittered in the frost on his glasses. In the space encircled by the faux trees laid a maze of wooden booths, stone firepits, and woodcraft chairs. At the center of it all, a great white tree stood over the festival with crystals for leaves refracting light in every direction. Merrymakers danced beneath it to the graceful songs of winter. Their movements were complimentary, each playing a role in some greater dance, yet devoid of any true meaning. And there was Fenn peering at the rippling revelers, bearing a cloak that screamed ¡°come chat with me about current events¡± of which he knew little, and watching dances of which he remembered nothing.


    Another person passed him with a half-bow and wished him well, but Fenn could only hear, ¡°Have a warm and lovely winter,¡± so many times before the words lost meaning. The pairing of a wish of warmth amidst the snow alongside the wish of beauty in a colorless season; it was ironic. He wondered why they wished it at all; whether it was the lack of beauty and warmth that had brought the greeting into being, or if perhaps there had been a time and place for elves where, as at the other end of the world, winters had been warm and summers cold.


    Regardless, this winter was very cold.


    From somewhere on Fenn¡¯s left, a deep voice called, and Fenn turned to see the friendly smile of his step-brother-in-law¨Cor was it just step-brother¨Chis mother¡¯s step son. Family. Somehow. The greeting made Fenn feel neither warmer nor lovelier, but it was a relief.


    ¡°You also, Edwend, Seavan.¡± He bobbed his head to the dark-haired elf who was half-a century his elder and the timid she-elf on his arm. At last, he¡¯d found some folk who wouldn¡¯t ask him about his father, or what vocation he was (not) pursuing, or similar smalltalk on vexing topics.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you made it. My brother and I were just debating if you would. After all, you haven¡¯t been back a year yet, and you certainly skipped the Harvest. And let me tell you, that was a good party.¡± Edwend¡¯s eyes twinkled with an honest mischief.


    Fenn kept to himself that he doubted he would¡¯ve enjoyed it and wrapped his grossly embroidered cloak tighter. ¡°Well, I could only avoid public events for so long,¡± he said softly.


    Edwend nodded knowingly. ¡°You look like you need a warm drink. Come on.¡± He clasped Fenns shoulder, pushing him along.


    When Edwend turned, Fenn caught his fist glimpse of Seavan¡¯s profile and the telling roundness that was quickly betrayed by her slim Etnfrandian dress.


    ¡°Oh, congratulations,¡± he said by reflex.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Seavan smiled nervously.


    Fenn winced. That was a human tradition. Etnfrandians congratulated at the birthing and weaning. ¡°Sorry! Excuse me. It¡¯s, erm, a very belated congratulations on a mutually advantageous match. I realize now it has likely been some time, but I never congratulated you both, so...¡±


    Edwend guffawed and slapped Fenn¡¯s shoulder. He was strong, a dancer, like his father. ¡°Five years, Fenn, but that¡¯s alright. Better late than never.¡±


    Fenn straightened his glasses and wished for the hundredth time he could be huddled by the great hearth of Assandial Library, buried in a thick tome and the quiet company of a curator. Tomes were easier. Tomes didn¡¯t have ritual and culture. Assandial was easier. He was supposed to be an outsider there.


    Edwin chuckled on, shaking his head. They stopped in front of a fire in front of an elf in a wool cap ladling a steaming drink. ¡°A pint for my brother here, good sir!¡±


    ¡°Ah, the young Willowbirth!¡± The elfman smiled cheerfully. ¡°Beauteous Snow, everyone! Glad to see you at the festivities again, Myc-Ceann.¡±


    Fenn greeted the older elf with a nod. If he said anything more, Fenn had stopped listening. He watched a group of elves move away from a booth with a skewer of roasted hazelnuts glazed with syrup. A youth nearly identical to one of the adults tarried at the booth, badgering the keeper for a second skewer. He smiled.


    Something bumped his arm. He looked down to see a wooden mug full of steaming amber fluid. He couldn¡¯t recall the Etnfrandian name of this drink just now, but he knew it to be a hot, sweet form of hard cider.


    ¡°Here you are.¡± Edwend said. ¡°I¡¯m overdue to meet Dysren and the rest of the family for a game of White Tail, but we¡¯re just over here and would love for you to join us.¡±


    He took a sip of the drink and let it warm him with its bite. It was strange to think that no one would be able to attain drunkenness. Not at an elven party. A she-elf in a rich blue cloak asked an elfman laughing with his friends to the dance floor. The young man blushed and followed her. The elves didn¡¯t seem to need social lubrication. Most elves, anyway.


    ¡°This is kind of you.¡± He lifted his mug to his brother and hoped he was smiling in a natural way. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to come by, but White Tail is a game played in pairs.¡± He wasn¡¯t ready for the combined friendliness of everyone. Edwend and Seavan alone were good company, but a whole family he¡¯d never known opening their arms to him¡­ it had a strange way of making him feel even further from them all. They¡¯d welcome a criminal the same if he said he was Sanwryn¡¯s son. Actually, he supposed, they technically do.


    His eyes were still on the couple now ¡°waltzing¡± on the dance floor. He¡¯d find a seat to the side where he could watch the partygoers, listen, and be seen without engaging with anyone. Edwend, not yet retearing, followed Fenn¡¯s gaze to the floor.


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    ¡°Suite yourself, brother. And hey, who knows? Perhaps the White Vixen will take a nip at you, too.¡± Edwend winked and offered his arm to Seavan. ¡°There was a pretty she-elf asking our mother about you earlier, you know.¡±


    Fenn turned with a question on his tongue, but Edwend was leading Seavan away. He sighed out a cloud of steam and glanced around for a place to sit. Crowded tables of elves eating and playing games clogged the way to his left. The dance floor was in front of him, behind it a stage with a 5-man band currently playing a ¡°waltz.¡± Next, they¡¯d play a lullaby and end the current song cycle. Over to the right, craftsmen sold wares for the festival¨Cjewelry, statues, instruments, paintings, drawings, decorations, and other tchotchkes.


    In an otherwise open space he would¡¯ve preferred to occupy, several stray groups stood on the fringes of the dance floor and edges of booths merely talking. A commotion sent him spinning. A girl chased a boy between tables, nearly knocking over an elder. Someone had spilled their ullyn in the commotion. Aha! That¡¯s the name! Fenn sipped on his own, choosing to loiter near the fire where he had received his mug.


    One of the children¡¯s mothers began to scold half-heartedly. Fenn smiled, remembering similar circumstances in his own childhood. He and Gale used to run around the edge of the festival playing foxes and hares. Galendria. She¡¯d probably been the one to ask after him.


    The song changed, and a voice both familiar and strange floated over the crowd, calling out to him in a lullaby. He turned to face the sound. It was her. No longer a girl, but rather a she-elf in a velvety gown of softest white. She stood center-stage, her long brown hair collecting snowflakes that framed her face, flush with the cold. Her voice was pure as the crystals on the ¡°tree¡± behind her. The crowds hushed as she sang, everyone entranced by the magic of her voice.


    Close your eyes, my daughter, and you¡¯ll awake a lovely vixen.


    The moon alights your fur and true love will come.


    I¡¯ll keep you warm this winter, and he can have the next.


    Only sleep in my den this winter, and you¡¯ll awake a lovely vixen.


    While cold howls like the wind of a storm, we will be at peace.


    I¡¯ll keep you warm this winter, and love can have the next.


    No one breathed as the harpist plucked the last notes. It was as though the lullaby had put the whole land to sleep. As Galendria held her final poze, her eyes flicked across the crowd, landing on¡­ him. Fenn was staring at her, his mouth agape and his drink half-raised to his mouth. A glint of recognition woke in her eyes and Fenn felt his face grow hot and the color leave him all at once. He must¡¯ve been standing like that the whole song.


    The withheld breath finally escaped him in a steaming fog over his cup that clouded his glasses. He took a swig of his drink and turned away, swiping with his gloves.


    The vague sound of moving instruments told him they were changing bands. He watched from the corner of his eye as she thanked her accompanists, then shuffled across the emptying dance floor¨Cstraight to him.


    He would have to turn to her. Speak to her. Sure, they had been friends once, but now? No better than strangers.


    ¡°Well let Western Wanderer rise in the East! You really have returned to the public, Fenn!¡± Her voice was full of mirth now, the pure magic of the song gone. She stood upright in her slim, elegant dress accompanied by gold jewelry hanging from her ears. To this ensemble she¡¯d added a lined cloak of fair blue, its hood bunching her hair into loose waves. Her voice may have been mirthful, but her bearing was gracious and regal. This was no child.


    ¡°Fyr-Ceann Silverstem,¡± Fenn bowed with his arms at his sides, ¡°a truly exquisite performance. Most¡­¡± He trailed off. There was a proper compliment for an occasion when something had reached new heights in the elvish standard of beauty. This land had many words for beauty. Which one is it?


    ¡°Um, Myc-Ceann¡­¡± Her voice pinched with discomfort.


    He snapped up from his bow. ¡°Sorry!¡± It was more yelp than apology. They were equals in standing, technically, and within a year in age. He shouldn¡¯t bow.


    She crossed her arms and twisted her mouth into an amused smile. ¡°Warm winter to you, too.¡±


    He closed his eyes. He knew he was blushing now. ¡°Yes, and lovely.¡± He pushed his glasses up his nose. This lady hardly seemed like the same elfling he¡¯d known. The one that¡¯d chased him around the Winter Festival in his boyhood. He supposed the mirth was familiar.


    She shifted her weight uncomfortably. ¡°You were going to say something about my performance?¡±


    ¡°Oh right!¡± He toyed with his mug. ¡°Well, I was, but I can¡¯t remember the words, so I¡¯ll just call it most magical.¡±


    She furrowed her brow. ¡°Magical?¡±


    He grimaced. That was not a word used to describe anything that wasn¡¯t literally magical here. ¡°I meant enchanting¡­ but¡­¡± That meant literally magical as well. ¡°That was wrong also.¡±


    She sighed, shaking her head with a smirk. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Fenn swished his glass. ¡°So, you became a performer?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I believe you knew that already. I spoke of this dream often.¡±


    Fenn nodded absently. She¡¯d always been singing something when they were kids.Yes, and her coming-of-age demonstration had been a concert.


    ¡°What about you?¡± she leaned in, as though trying to get a good look at his face. ¡°Do you know what you¡¯re going to do?¡±


    He shrank away from the often-asked question. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I assume that since you¡¯re home again, you probably have to pick a real art now, right? Or at least a job?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t shrink any further physically, but inside he drew so far away that he could no longer recognize her. Fenn had returned to do more research for a short time, but his father had been pushing him to contribute to their culture. He did need to think of an ¡°art¡± to use to officially ¡°come of age¡± if he was going to be here a few years. It was embarrassing enough that he had never had the ceremony. He¡¯d left before it. But with her, he wished to discuss none of this.


    ¡°Fyr-Ceann Gale,¡± a young elfman cut in on their poor excuse for conversation, ¡°that was a performance more worthy of praise than the sun¡¯s own light! I¡¯m inspired by the beauty of your art.¡±


    That was the thing to say! The elfman was around their age with a well-fitted tunic and coy smile. Another man was approaching from the other side of Gale, and several others were in the vicinity stealing glances at her. Fenn pushed his glasses up his nose to hide his cringe. She was inadvertently making him their rival in the bidding war for her attention.


    Galendria smiled brightly at the one speaking to her. ¡°Such a pretty compliment, Nilum. I appreciate it. Has the snow alighted well on you?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, and I see it alights well on you.¡± He turned a shade of pink. ¡°Actually, I was wondering if you had already chosen your dance partners for the evening?¡±


    Galendria smiled graciously. Fenn didn¡¯t stay for her answer. His childhood memory had plenty of people waiting to congratulate her properly and keep her company, and he didn¡¯t feel inclined to speak with any of them. That was a level of socializing that made observing a game of White Tail sound perfectly delightful. He retreated to one of the crowded tables where his step-father and family played, sitting with his back to the dancers.


    There was some happiness there, watching the boys bicker and try and tell each other how to play so that they would fall into each other¡¯s traps. It all seemed far from him, veiled by the curtain of misty snow, occurring in a land far from him, though he was the one who had returned. After the second match, when they tried to line him up for the next game, he excused himself, leaving his cloak in hopes his father would see it and assume he was nearby.


    When his boots eventually stopped where he intended, he sighed out in relief. A blanket of snow covered both tree and earth, needle and stone, in a muffled quiet¨Ca profound emptiness. He sat on a familiar stone and opened his notebook. This was a proper holiday, even if it lacked a hearth. Quiet. With true and honest emptiness. He would have to return to the hidden emptiness of the crowd eventually, if not at this festival, then the next one. But here was peace.

 Holiday Special: The Winter Solstice Part 2/2

    Galendria


    ¡°I was wondering if you had already chosen your dance partners for the evening?¡± Yet another young man following a pretty voice and a Fyr-Ceann¡¯s cloak asked her.


    ¡°I thought I might dance with¡­¡± Gale turned to where Fenn had been standing and only saw falling snow. ¡°....A few different people, and perhaps my cousin.¡± She didn¡¯t allow her shoulders to sag, nor the music to fall from her tone. She couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°And who first?¡± He was a persistent fellow, Nilum, even if he played coy.


    She glanced around once more for Fenn. He sat in a chair set back from a table where his mother¡¯s sons played White Tail, his back to the dancers. Snow stuck to the short, feathery tips of his already pale hair, making it appear white. Disappointment drained her willpower. ¡°Well, I had thought of Fenn,¡± she answered bluntly, ¡°but it seems he isn¡¯t in the mood.¡±


    ¡°Fenn?¡± Nilum asked, his large, smooth brows cocking. ¡°You mean the Myc-Ceann Willowbirth so recently returned?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Does he even know how to dance?¡±


    It occurred to her that even in school he¡¯d been poor at it. ¡°I suppose he may not.¡± She reached out a hand to Nilum. He wouldn¡¯t leave her alone unless she gave him one anyway, and the next dance would be a line dance. It was as unromantic as she would manage.


    She forgot about Fenn for a little while, spinning or jigging with many men once and no one twice, and of course Rienfren, her cousin. Every once in a while she¡¯d search for Fenn and find his back turned to the floor, but otherwise she ate roasted nuts and twirled about and chatted with old friends and laughed and she even found Kitaryn, Fenn¡¯s little sister, bouncing baby Rud in front of a puppet show. When she circled back to at least say hello to Fenn and his brothers, she spotted his cloak¡¯s back, but there was no head. No Fenn.


    ¡°Fyr-Ceann!¡± Dysren waved his arm, gesturing her nearer. He was a very friendly man, and he¡¯d caught her staring at Fenn¡¯s empty seat. ¡°You¡¯ve done some lovely singing and dancing tonight.¡±


    She nodded her thanks. ¡°Are you enjoying the Festival?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but you weren¡¯t staring at Fenn¡¯s cloak so that you could ask me that. He walked that way to ¡®look around¡¯ about half an hour ago and I haven¡¯t seen head nor tail of him since. Between you and I, Fyr-Ceann, he was quite afraid you would ask him to dance. It think he doesn¡¯t remember how. Someone needs to remind him¡± He leaned in conspiratorially, even though the rest of the table heard him with winking grins.


    Despite the cold, she felt her cheeks grow warm. She hadn¡¯t really meant to imply anything by her curiosity. It was only that they¡¯d been good friends once, and he¡¯d been gone for so long¡­ ¡°You said that way?¡± She pointed to where Dysren had jerked his head toward the exit of the Upper Tier of the city.


    ¡°Yes, Fyr-Ceann, in a straight line. Didn¡¯t look much like looking around to me.¡±


    ¡°Lovely of you to help,¡± she said, plucking up Fenn¡¯s cloak and rolling it so it would be less recognizable.


    He raised a questioning brow.


    ¡°I know exactly where he¡¯s gone. And he¡¯ll be cold.¡±


    Under the table, Dysren handed Edwend a chip of gold, the latter wearing a greased smile.


    She frowned. Betting was bad enough, but on her behavior? Or was it the game? They were still in the middle of it and no one had moved a piece since she¡¯d walked up.


    She wished them well anyway and headed for the side of the mountain. There was one place Fenn had always gone. A hundred years had never broken the habit.


    ¡­


    Snow as fine as mist fell between the pines, but they had not covered Fenn¡¯s tracks. She stepped lightly, trying not to sink too far into the deep drifts. In a few more paces, the trees cleared. On a rock they¡¯d pushed there in a bygone time sat Fenn, as still as the winter¡¯s death with snow powdered on his hair and cloak. Yes, he was wearing one that clasped at the shoulders in a foreign style he favored lined with a white and gray fur-like material, a token brought back from his century-long excursion.


    Of course he¡¯d fetched a cloak. She hugged his Myc-Ceann¡¯s decorative one to her chest. He is not a child.


    Something fluttered in her stomach. It was true, he wasn¡¯t a boy any more than she was still a girl. The betting of his brothers, the attempting and dodging of dancing. These weren¡¯t childrens¡¯ games.


    She shook away the thought. Fenn leaned forward over his knees, straining to see something in the snow.


    She grinned. He had no idea she was there. Girlish or not, she crept toward him, scarcely daring to breathe. She placed the cloak down, and step by ginger step, removing her mittens, came to stand at his back.


    He hadn¡¯t moved, still leaned forward. Over his shoulder, a book sat in his lap scribbled in a foreign tongue she didn¡¯t think she recognized. Gale put her icy fingers to the sides of his jaw.


    Fenn cried out, spinning and stumbling away. He reached for something at his belt that was apparently not there as he fell to the ground.


    Gale cackled. She thought she¡¯d make him jump, not send him crashing to the ground in a pile.


    ¡°Gale!¡± He gasped, staring.


    She re-mittened her hands, struggling as she shook with laughter. She couldn¡¯t answer with her mouth so full of amusement.


    ¡°Ah, I mean, Fyr-Ceann¨C¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± Gale waved her hands, still giggling. ¡°Please don¡¯t finish that, Fenn. We¡¯ve never been those things to each other. Don¡¯t start it now.¡±


    He blinked mutely from the ground. She offered him a hand. He clasped it and jumped up, his cloak falling heavily around him. Then he let go and pushed up his glasses, clearing his throat.


    ¡°I thought I¡¯d bring you your cloak,¡± she spoke quickly, ¡°but it looks like you¡¯ve already fetched one.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he looked down as though only noticing he wore one. ¡°I¡¯d rather not freeze. Did Dysren and Edwend send you?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to come.¡± She was beginning to feel sent. Pranked even. But they hadn¡¯t told her to bring him his cloak.


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Do you prefer this cloak that much?¡± She asked, not sure what else there was to say.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s far superior. You see how it buttons at each shoulder?¡± he unclasped one ornate button, letting the cloak slip. ¡°That keeps it from pulling at your neck when you wear it like Etnfrandian clasps do. And it¡¯s still made from Kapor wool, so it repels water and snow just the same while the lining is wolf fur, which is quite a bit warmer and catches the snow on the fringes of the hood. The overall effect is a warmer, more comfortable cloak that allows less snow to fall in your face.¡± While he spoke, he unbound the other clasp and dropped his cloak on her shoulders. He placed one button carefully, his eyes turned down, his specs slipping down his nose.


    When had he become so tall? Gale craned her neck to look up at him. Snowflakes landed on his downturned lashes, normally shielded by his prominent brow. If he hadn¡¯t been so pale and thin, he would¡¯ve been a very handsome man. Not a boy¡­


    She jolted and set to work on the other button. They were large and brassy, engraved with some runic characters she¡¯d never seen before. He hadn¡¯t really needed to unbutton it at all for her. The cloak drooped heavily off her shoulders and bunched in the snow at the bottom, much too large.


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    She traced the button with her mitten as Fenn stepped back, pulling up the hood over her head. ¡°There, now see?¡±


    Sure enough, the fur fringe caught the snow wafting in the air, protecting her eyes. She¡¯d never felt so warm in her life, either, double-cloaked and with the warmth of his back leaking from the fur lining. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s very nice.¡± She threw it off over her head, holding it out towards him. ¡°But it¡¯s much too big for me.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s true. You could ask your father to have a few imported. I had to get mine tailored to fit, but the dwarves never stop making them. They are quite a popular souvenir.¡±


    She had to shake her head. Several of the wordshad been in Allspeach, and the unexpected switch set her mind staggering. ¡°Souvenir?¡±


    ¡°Like a trinket from a trip. Wolf fur isn¡¯t so easy to come by outside of the Kravtic mountains, so when people make trips there, they always buy something made with it.¡±


    The weight of the cloak left her hands at the exact moment instinct told her to drop it. ¡°Wolf fur? Th-the dwarves figured out how to harvest fur from wolves?!¡±


    ¡°You thought it was an imitation? No, they¡­¡± he stopped short, turning even paler. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s better I don¡¯t tell you.¡±


    She looked at the snow piled around her boots. So the dwarves killed the wolves for their fur. It was horrible to imagine. A slaughter of living things for naught but wealth. She shivered. What else has Fenn become accustomed to? Eating meat? The use of magic? The Worship of gods? She rubbed her arms for warmth.


    Material dropped on her shoulders, brightly woven and embroidered. His other cloak. Fenn stepped away and scooped up his notebook, settling back down onto his stone¨Ctheir stone. The hazy snow made him seem far away, a man she didn¡¯t know from the next.


    She closed the distance in a few steps. He had already begun scribbling. That, at least, was familiar to her. ¡°Can you scoot over some?¡±


    He shifted to the edge of the rock, not looking up. She took the other half, her low back meeting his. She stared out into the haze. Tears wanted to fall from her eyes, though she wasn¡¯t sure why. Not simple disgust, at least.


    ¡°There used to be a stump here, too,¡± Fenn said over the scratching of his pencil.


    ¡°It rotted a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    He¡¯d been gone so long. She should¡¯ve let him tell her about the cloak. She shouldn¡¯t have been repulsed by the fur. She didn¡¯t know what he¡¯d been through. One hundred and nineteen years of being on his own, certainly. She wanted to know, she realized. She didn¡¯t want him to avoid her any longer.


    She didn¡¯t even know if he had been avoiding her. He¡¯d never liked parties anyway. ¡°Erm, Fenn, why¡­ did you leave?¡±


    The pencil-scratching stopped. The impenetrable silence that only a thick snow makes swelled to a crescendo. She could hear her own heartbeat. She wrapped his Myc-Ceann cloak tighter around her.


    ¡°There¡­¡± He swallowed hard enough that she could hear it. ¡°There was something important my father wanted to destroy, something priceless, and I had to choose. I could stay and obey him forever, or I could protect it and leave.¡±


    Her eyes widened, realizing the question he¡¯d actually answered. Her hand clasped his elbow. Something important, something priceless. She¡¯d known his father was awful, yet she¡¯d never done anything to help him. She¡¯d never known how. Not as a child. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She choked, but forced her way through it. ¡°I should¡¯ve helped you. I should have realiz¨C¡±


    ¡°It had nothing to do with you, Gale. You couldn¡¯t have done anything.¡± His bare hand pressed her mitted one around his elbow. ¡°Nothing more than what you did, anyway.¡±


    ¡°I never did anything to help.¡± She bumped her forehead against the back of his shoulder.


    ¡°You were my friend. That helped.¡±


    Forget that he was a man now. She turned and squeezed him, wolf-hair cloak and all, right around his middle. Let him be a boy for just one last moment, the boy that was her best friend, the boy she had failed to protect. The boy who¡¯d come back.


    ¡°Gale, I¡¯m going to fall off the rock,¡± he wheezed, patting her hand radily as though losing a wrestling match.


    She dragged him back a smidge. ¡°Just a second, this is important.¡±


    ¡°Gale, please let me go.¡±


    ¡°Not until you tell me why you ran away from the Festival,¡± she demanded in a moment of inspiration.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a game!¡±


    ¡°No, and we aren¡¯t children anymore!¡± She squished him tighter.


    ¡°Fine! Fine! Let go!¡± He gasped as she released him from her grip. It was she who slipped from the rock into the soft powder at the change.


    He turned to face her, his face blazing purple¨Cshe¡¯d almost forgotten how purple his blush truly was. He didn¡¯t speak for a moment, and the color faded to only his cheeks and ears. He turned away, apparently unable to look at her any longer. When he spoke, it was soft. ¡°It¡¯s simple really. It¡¯s easier to be alone out here than up there.¡±


    Easier to be alone out here. Alone there. Alone here. Fenn was always off to the side, always listening but never engaged in the conversation. Never truly at a party, just standing there. Alone, no matter where he was. ¡°Do you have to be alone, Fenn?¡± She asked, barely more than a whisper.


    ¡°Technically, I¡¯m not alone right now, am I?¡± His mouth quirked.


    She met him with a more daring smile. ¡°No, but we are.¡±


    He tilted his head, brows knit seriously. ¡°But if there are two, can either of them honestly say they are alone?¡±


    She gaped, flabbergasted at how unaffected he was by the obvious flouting of the social boundary they were breaking.


    Noticing her expression, he partially opened his mouth in an inhale as if to speak, but then shut it. ¡°Ah. I remember now. This is inappropriate at our age, isn¡¯t it?¡± He huffed a tiny laugh to himself, shaking his head. ¡°Such strange customs,¡± he muttered in Allspeech.


    Where she had hope he might be embarrassed, instead she was. She faced the snow-laden boughs to hide her reddening shame.


    He scratched at his notebook, unconcerned.


    That¡¯s unfair. Whatever land he¡¯d lived in apparently didn¡¯t care if single men and women ran off together. She wished she hadn¡¯t pointed it out if she was going to be the only one thinking about it.


    Movement in the woods drew her attention. She couldn¡¯t see what had moved. All was white snow or gray shadow. Then it rushed away, its voluminous tail disappearing into the bare underbrush.


    She gasped and jumped to her feet. ¡°The white fox!¡±


    ¡°You saw it?¡± Fenn asked, looking up.


    ¡°It just ran over there.¡± She pointed. The seasonal sign of enduring love was gone, but she could not unsee it, could not forget where it had disappeared.


    Fenn turned and she finally saw in full view the new page he¡¯d been working on. He hadn¡¯t been writing at all. In stunning detail rendered only in graphite was the image of a prowling fox, its fur as stark as the off-color page would allow.


    She stared. ¡°You already saw it?¡±


    ¡°Just before you jumped me.¡±


    A pang of guilt thrust through her. ¡°It¡¯s such a beautiful thing. I¡¯m sorry I scared you both.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. I still drew her.¡± His long fingers lingered on the corner of the page as if they touched something precious. ¡°I¡¯d never seen one in person before.¡±


    Gale bent beside his shoulder for a better look. ¡°It¡¯s a wonderful drawing. I¡¯m inspired by your art,¡± she teased him with the compliment he¡¯d forgotten.


    ¡°Such a remarkable creature full of myths and symbolism, and she stared into my face.¡± There was a magnetic reverence to his voice that drew Gale nearer.


    Suddenly, she was aware of their shoulders touching, of his breath puffing between her and the page, of the pinch of cold coloring his cheeks as his slate-colored eyes sparkled with admiration for the creature.


    She placed a hand on that near shoulder and found those eyes looking at hers. A pain she hadn¡¯t known she carried, a loneliness that she hadn¡¯t known she felt; both melted away under that earnest, expectant gaze. ¡°Fenn, I¡¯m very glad that you came back,¡± she said simply.


    Something in his face twitched, but he didn¡¯t look away when he said, ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you again, too, Gale. Of everyone here, I¡¯m really glad to see you¡¯re well.¡±


    If two cloaks hadn¡¯t been warm enough, his words were. They warmed her to her center. Here was a man who meant what he said, even and especially when it was said with the wrong words. Suddenly the season seemed brighter, lovelier, and fuller. Spring was inside of her, blooming in an emotion she didn¡¯t know. She smiled and sat beside him once more. ¡°What else have you been putting in that notebook?¡±

 Chapter 22: Soldiering On

    He who falls behind is hunted first; yet also he who leads meets the enemy first. Fate has deemed it.


    He who refuses to aid the suffering dies alone; yet also he who refuses the aid he is offered suffers alone. Fate has deemed it.


    He who denies another justice cheats Fate; yet also he who denies the justice offered is cheated from his. Fate has deemed it.


    He who ignores a call from a brother lives alone; yet also he who refuses to call shall die alone. Fate has deemed it.


    He who leads must be humble or the many will rebel to break him; yet also the many must be humble or the leaders will be a scourge to break them. Fate has deemed it.


    <h3 style="text-align: right">-A selection of Brikvarnni Proverbs


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    This wasn¡¯t the first batch of civilians Krid had been given to whip into shape, but it was his most challenging. With the exception of Syrdin, they were soft-handed and optimistic. Hopes and ideals would not protect anyone from panthrae and pixies. He didn¡¯t need them to become militant, only aware, realistic, and cohesive. This infighting had to stop. It didn¡¯t matter if it was between Syrdin and Galendria, or Galendria and Fenn.


    What they needed were some good Brikvarnni principals. He frowned at the tent from which Fenn had yet to show his face. And some better planning.


    He tied his last sack and stood, taking note of their status. Gale was dismantling her tent while Mell quickly breakfasted over a tome from her bag of books. Krid huffed. He hoped she didn¡¯t intend to read on the road. Syrdin, no longer limping after a touch from Mell, paced around the camp,watching for signs of Ferngal or her lackeys. From zheir tent emerged Fenn, now dressed in a loose white blouse over his blue elvish leggings¨Cit was the same kind of shirt Krid had seen him wear in Brikhvarnn. His bloodied and slashed tunic from the day before didn¡¯t suit the hot forest weather, and Krid was grateful for the diminishing of at least one sour smell.


    At the sight of him, Galendria stood. ¡°Fenn!¡± Beaming with the brightness of a sunrise, she rushed over and grabbed his wrists before he had more than glanced in her direction. ¡°Fenn, Atheer¡¯m il-et ciavay! Khee tu vah foy¨C¡±


    Krid huffed the potent faerie air in a powerful sneeze, and then raised his snout so he looked over Galendria¡¯s head. It was incredibly rude to speak a language he didn¡¯t understand while nearby. Only those keeping secrets would do that.


    She blinked at him, then her cheeks took a hint of pink as she understood what she¡¯d done. ¡°We¡¯ve scried on him¨CMell showed me how to use the artifact¨Cmy father is fine! He¡¯s no longer a Ceann, but he was at our house in the mountains. Fenn, he¡¯s alright!¡±


    Krid lowered his head, regretting his intrusion. No wonder; she was speaking of her bloodclan.


    ¡°Thank the gods,¡± Fenn said as his surprise at her sudden accosting changed to relief, and then curiosity. ¡°You scried¡­ with the crystal?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Fenn it was amazing, I could see him like he was right in front of me, and I even heard him in my head, like Ferngal!¡±


    ¡°Really? And what did it feel like? Did you have any sensations?¡± The book-head slid  from her grasp and slid open his notebook, scribbling furiously as she fed him every detail. Krid tried not to listen as they discussed Gale¡¯s vision, her father, and a brother of Fenn¡¯s Krid had never heard of.


    Behind them, Syrdin tore down the tent, and Krid was reminded why he continued to respect zheir secrets; zhe was the only one of the group who kept zheir wits about zhem and zheir mind on the immediate goal. Zhe seemed to understand the orderliness and sense of urgency required in dangerous situations, even if zhe didn¡¯t entirely understand teamwork. Or humilty. It wasn¡¯t very Brikvarnni of zhem.


    He tried not to mind as Mellark leaned in to join the Etnfrandians¡¯ conversation. The foundation of the mission was learning, so the book-heads needed to, well, book. Still, with the threat of Ferngal¡¯s short temper looming over them, he soon lost his own.


    He leaned over them, letting his shadow fall over the notebook.


    ¡°And to verify, he showed no sign that he could sense you watching?¡± Fenn glanced Krid¡¯s way before turning back to his page.


    Galendria shook her head. ¡°None.¡±


    Krid took the chance to interrupt. ¡°We move out in ten minutes. Anyone not ready by then will be cleaning up after both lunch and dinner.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t much of a threat, but it did the job. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Mell stood using Fenn¡¯s shoulder as a support, ¡°we need to prioritize our safety, and that means getting out of this forest. We can invent a test for the artifact on the way.¡±


    With everyone pulling their weight, they were packed and ready barely within the ten minutes. It was not as clean and efficient as he had hoped, and there was much double-checking and reorganizing of what they could not properly repack, but these were not troops. Yet, for the first time since they¡¯d crossed the planes, they had a clear direction and some sense of urgency¨C as long as he kept reminding them of it. Once they were assembled, he addressed them.


    ¡°As discussed, we will march with the sun on our backs. I will take the front. Syrdin, you take rear. You and I will watch for stalkers and ambushes. Fenn, Mell, take the sides and watch out for pixies¡¯ hollows and other recognizable signs of Fae magic. Galendria, keep an eye on the skies. After a while, we will switch duties so no one becomes fatigued. We¡¯ll stop only when absolutely necessary. Understood?¡±


    Four sets of surprised eyes blinked at him.


    ¡°Understood?¡±


    ¡°Sounds practical to me.¡± Fenn tugged the straps of his pack, trying to tighten it while it was already on his back¨Cthe most impractical way. ¡°The situation does necessitate both haste and care.¡±


    ¡°Lead on,¡± Mell gestured away from the sun, a direction revealed only by the slightest tilt of the shadows.


    A simple nod or ¡°yes, sir¡± would have sufficed. Krid turned with a flick of his tail and they marched.


    If he had needed to write a logbook, there would have been little to report. The scenery remained unchanged, and thanks to Syrdin and Mell, they managed to skirt any nests, hollows, and thickets that crossed their path. But there was no report log. Instead, the book-heads got distracted discussing what the Yellow Wood might be, or random creatures, or directions, all with no conclusion. Galendria was eager to strike up conversation with everyone except Syrdin and often announced their presence to the forest by breaking out into a tune¨Cnot a practical marching tune, but a meandering sort of music that slowed everyone down. He couldn¡¯t understand the songs, of course. Their words were in Elvish.


    Syrdin, aside from the occasional sly remark, remained quiet and alert, a fact Krid remained grateful for because zhe routed them around several pixie hollows and managed to pick a decent amount of yuka, which would bolster their rations.


    As the day wore on, interrupted by only a meal and restroom break, the company grew quieter. Gale¡¯s songs ceased, and Fenn lost himself in thought. The scholar must have grown bored, for she slowed her pace to meet Krid where he had taken up the rear.


    ¡°So, Captain Krid, you seem like a drakeman accustomed to being in command. I¡¯m not a person acquainted with militaries. Tell me, just what does your position entail?¡±


    ¡°I am Steward of no less than one-hundred scouts at a time. We watch the border of Brikhvarnn shared with the Kravtic mountains.¡±


    ¡°Steward?¡± She asked, surprised.


    He didn¡¯t know why she would be. ¡°Yes, a fundamental Skill. Surely your people use it.¡±


    ¡°I know what the word means, and in many ways my job was to steward a library until now, but I don¡¯t think we conceptualize the word the same way you do. Could you explain further?¡±


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    He cocked his head so he could watch her with one eye as he kept the other on the forest behind. Danger could appear at any moment, and he would not be caught off-guard. ¡°Growers¨Cor what you may call farmers¨Csteward foodstuffs, forming and caring for them. Shapers¨Cwhat you call tradesmiths¨Csteward tools. And weapons, a mere tool of protection. I steward my men, growing them to protect our people. The other scouts admired my skill at it and encouraged me to grow it. Now I have grown two hundred this way, and with one hundred I serve now.¡±


    She nodded, silently studying his words. It wasn¡¯t the way Fenn studied, with excitement and a smattering of questions, but with a slow, diligent intentionality.  ¡°And how did you come to this position?¡±


    ¡°Over time, with the support of my fellow scouts, as with any position of leadership. Fennorin was among the first to encourage this Skill of mine. He took up a blade in witness of it.¡±


    She snorted like a pig¨Ca type of laugh, he assumed. ¡°Fenn fought a duel for you to have your job?¡±


    A flock of those winged creatures took the skies behind them, and Krid spun to observe what had caused the disturbance. It was a pair of small, long-limbed creatures leaping through the trees. One swung up and snatched the so-called shoth from the air in its teeth, then wrung its neck with its spindly fingers. Krid hoped there were not larger creatures like that. It had killed a creature twice its size with bare hands.


    He turned back to Mell, ushering them both forward until they were back in step with the others. ¡°Yes, Fenn fought for me, as you said. We fought together, and, in return, I swore to him the oath of a brother. To speak on this further, however, would be a¡­ what you may call¡­ sacrilege.¡±


    ¡°Hmh,¡± Mell acknowledged this information with an odd sound in her throat. ¡°The oath explains why you are here.¡± Then she chuckled. ¡°but Fenn with a sword against a drakeman? I would¡¯ve paid to see that.¡±


    ¡°The way things are going, you won¡¯t have to pay to see him with a blade in hand.¡±


    The woman grunted her agreement. ¡°The way things are going, you¡¯ll have us all holding blades like your scouts.¡± She smiled tightly as she spoke.


    He frowned, unsure what she meant. ¡°You should be watching the skies,¡± he reminded her.  He could not afford to have her distracted. As much as he hated to admit it, the Fae creatures made him as skittish as a desert hare. All eyes needed to be focused. Thankfully, she refocused hers without complaint.


    He pushed them for two days like this¨Charsh, wary, and in rotations. If the shadows were longer each day when his steps became heavy and his stomach empty, he could not tell. At the end of the second, panting in the heat, he observed the others from where he had taken the lead. Droplets glistened on Mell¡¯s face paired with an unholy stench on her clerical robes. Sweat, he recalled. A feature of the soft-skinned he did not envy. Another wince from Galendria reminded him that she¡¯d been limping along all day, unused to such  travel. Fenn fared little better, bent with his hands clasped under his backpack.


    Krid sighed. These are not troops. They need more rest. He would not be the scourge to keep it from them. ¡°Perhaps we should stop for a while. It¡¯s likely been a proper day¡¯s march. Besides, you all look like Mountain Goatslost in Brikhvarnn¡¯s desert.¡± Always scraggly, weary things those are.


    The collective sigh of relief that came from the three civilians could have blown back a sandstorm. ¡°Let me see if the divination says it¡¯s okay,¡± Mell pulled her bag off her shoulder and reached into a side pocket. ¡°I¡¯d rather not have a fleet of owls come to tear us apart while we sleep.¡±


    Krid stamped out his discontent with pacing. Fate was not something so simple to be read and told. Not even those so-called gods could reveal what Fate had hidden. Fenn may trust it, but Krid would not. Still, he would not be the cause of an argument in troubled times.


    She tossed her sticks and studied them, as before. ¡°It¡¯s a wash,¡± Mell announced. ¡°Good enough for me.¡± Without waiting for anyone else¡¯s opinion, she started unloading supper. Fenn and Gale were quick to follow with tents¨Cif one could call their dehydrated-goat pace quick.


    Krid crossed his arms and leaned against a tree. He could have told her that camping was split even on risk and reward. Because of that, he hadn¡¯t meant for them to set up an entire camp, but perhaps it would be worthwhile as long as they did not loiter. He would not allow them to waste time cooking or studying. They must focus on getting rest and moving on. ¡°Who will be first watch tonigh¨Ctoday?.¡±


    Syrdin settled onto a thick branch by his head. ¡°I got it.¡±


    He rumbled his appreciation and set to propping up his own tent. The moment he was finished, he turned to find Mell staring at him, Fenn behind her with his notebook in hand. ¡°Captain, we need a little favor.¡±


    He eyed them. Their behavior was more suspicious than a wriggling stick on a sand dune. ¡°How can I aid you?¡±


    ¡°We need to test something on you,¡± Fenn said, his face set in a pleading grimace as if he already knew Krid¡¯s answer.


    ¡°We must focus on rest. None of this.¡± He gestured to them and their books.


    Fenn¡¯s shoulders slumped, but Mell was made of a grittier sand. ¡°It will take five minutes. All you will have to do is walk out of sight and do whatever you want until we call you back.¡±


    He squinted at her with one eye. She insisted despite her obvious weariness and swollen feet. He wished she possessed as much humility as she did stubbornness. Survival was his domain.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Captain¡± Syrdin surprised him from zheir branch with support for the book-heads. ¡°Just go through your stances over there, then make them go to bed. They do need to figure out these artifacts.¡±


    It was unusual for Syrdin to interject in such things, so he reconsidered. ¡°Fine,¡± he huffed, ¡°but as soon as I am done you all sleep.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Mell said, eager.


    He stomped his way behind some trees. He was vexed. Fenn asked me to protect him. He asked for my Skill. . Just out of sight, Krid pulled his sword and took first stance, his right leg forward and the sword held at a diagonal across his body. Has he forgotten what he asked of me?  He centered his weight over his feet, and stilled his emotions, pushing his frustration down. Tension crackled through his muscles. Has he forgotten my strength is not only in my arm?


    . He swung into a second stance, his muscles pulling him through the familiar motions. Again.  He landed in third, as immovable as stone, his sword pointed forward at his shoulder. I am Captain, Steward of Men.


    He breathed out, flowing into fourth stance;  light and movable as the sand: quick to respond. Finally, he whipped like the scorching wind into the final form. Strength surged through him, his blade slicing the air as lightning would a storm.


    He swung his blade in an X pattern and then stabbed it into the ground, placing both claws on the hilt, the exit from the four forms. With it, he stabbed his anger into the ground and let it die there. Anger was a distraction. Anger was proud.


    ¡°That looked great, Krid!¡± Fenn called from beyond the trees. ¡°I can see why the variation in stance and motion would make them useful as warmups.¡±


    Galendria chirped her opinion, ¡°That last spin moved with such grace and power! I¡¯ve never seen anything like it!¡±


    Krid snorted and made his way back. They must have been watching him through the artifact somehow. Those magical trinkets puzzled him. The others put a lot of value on them, even Syrdin. Most other species were like that, valuing magic as though it were the fourth requirement of life behind food, water, and rest. ¡°Did you get what you need?¡±


    ¡°Almost.¡± Mell was closing the crystal into its box. ¡°We just have a question or two. What did you feel while you did your forms? Anything?¡±


    His fingers scratched his chin as he thought. Did I feel anything? ¡°I suppose a sense of power.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Mell¡¯s already large, round eyes grew larger. ¡°Could you explain further?¡±


    ¡°Kruppa! You said you would rest.¡±


    ¡°Please answer, Krid, this is important.¡± Fenn appeared sympathetic, but his words were not.


    Every minute wasted was a minute longer they lingered in danger. It had been clear to Krid when Mell had translated that Ferngal¡¯s threat of anger as ¡°quick as a yuka falls¡± that it had been her way of saying she was changeable and hot-tempered¨Ca figure of speech. The others clearly had forgotten. ¡°Fine, when I do my forms, I gain a sense of balance, of control, and of the power that comes from them. The thunder inside awakens. Now sleep!¡±


    Mell squinted at him and turned her head.


    Fenn chuckled. ¡°Yes, I thought as much. He meant he felt powerful as he went through the motions of his swings, Mell. Not that he sensed some outside power.¡±


    She frowned into her squishy cheeks. ¡°I see. Well, not unexpected then.¡±


    Krid felt his tail rub against tree roots as it swished in agitation. He would demand an explanation another time. For now, he bid them to rest and assigned Fenn the third watch on account of him sleeping in that morning. Satisfied or not, the scholars and Gale dispersed into their tents, and Krid did likewise. Tomorrow would be another long day of marching, and he needed to be alert. He clearly could not count on them to stay focused. They would not become disciplined overnight, so he must prepare himself for another day of challenging them to grow into a cohesive expeditionary team.


    It was necessary.


    Fenn had asked him for protection. ¡°I embark on a dangerous journey and know no one else to whom I could entrust my safety so well as you,¡± the letter had read. His fulfillment of that request rested on the cooperation of everyone, regardless of whether they understood his orders.

 Chapter 23: Hidden Legacy

    8 March 2373


    By my pocketwatch, our marching¡°days¡± have been over twenty-eight hours rather than twenty-four, meaning that this fourth ¡°evening,¡±is nearing the sixth Trueplane day since we arrived. I will confer with Fennorin on this matter, but I suspect the vitality innate to this realm has allowed us to push our bodies beyond their True limits.


    We have also learned to identify and avoid pixie hollows. Their signature aromatic mushrooms are perceptible to Captain Kridarnn from a ways away. Fenn claims these mushrooms are also responsible for his illusions noted on day one. To the delight of our taste buds, Syrdin tends to spot the Yuka groves a good ways off¨Calways near the Pixie hollows. They pair beautifully with Fennorin¡¯s reserves of oatmeal. I am optimistic that some samples could be preserved in an emptied jar of jam for future sampling.


    Until the End of Another Adventurous Day,


    Mellark


    From The Truth and the Fae: A Memoir


    By Mellark Brandybeard


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    Nightwatch should occur at night. Syrdin lounged in the crook of a tree, zheir sore muscles stretched across the squat branch. Zhe spun a dagger listlessly in zheir hand, keeping zheir eyes roving over the sunny forest. The light was as bright as ever, glaring at zhem with all the anger of the Dwarves.


    Soft snores rose from Krid¡¯s tent, plain-looking in its sandy color next to the embroidered Etnfrandian tents. He slept soundly¨Cnot like Night Elves did¨Cwith no fear of ambush. His relentless driving onward wearied even him. Which meant he left the others too weary to even complain. Syrdin didn¡¯t doubt they would¡¯ve, given the chance. Even now, they were no more than two days away from a full on coup¨Cnot that Krid was supposed to be in charge.


    An unusual yellow bird¨Cshoth¨Cfluttered into a nearby branch, boasting in a chipper song. It had plenty to boast about: richly yellow scale-feathers with vibrant purple stripes running from its eyes to its back. Syrdin wiped the sweat dripping from behind zheir neck and considered striking it with the dagger, curious whether the forest would respond. It hadn¡¯t for the Panthrae or Flotymus. How bad could it be?


    A second song joined it, mournful. The notes tugged on Syrdin¡¯s mind like fingers reaching in to coax zhem to seek the source, to come and rescue it.


    Syrdin sat up in alarm. That¡¯s no ordinary bird. The yellow one scattered away in surprise. It sounds humanoid, almost elven. Zhe shook zheir head, pushing back against the urge to follow the sound. It¡¯s trying to charm me.


    Zhe hopped down from the tree, heart thumping an anxious rhythm as zhe began to pace the camp. If the others woke and heard it, they might fall prey to that voice. If that were to happen, zhe might not be able to save them. Is it better to hunt the creature down?


    Zhe doubted it would be as powerful as Ferngal.


    Yet, it was not safe to go alone. As non-Faerie, the human and drakeman were more likely to fall victim. That left Galendria and Fenn.


    Syrdin scrunched zheir nose. Nope. With those two as zheir only options, zhe decided to wait and hope. They could keep the non-faerie company on their future watches, but they were not fit for a hunting party.


    The song continued to cast its line, steadily trailing it through the air in hopes of a catch. Syrdin ran through zheir kata¡¯s, focusing zheir mind on the movements to force out the sounds. At long last, it stopped. Whatever had sung, it must have caught some prey. Zhe hated to think what fool creature had walked itself onto a dinner plate. Zhe gritted zheir teeth and kept an uneasy watch, listening for a hint of another song.


    When the time came, Syrdin woke Krid for his watch and explained everything. ¡°If you hear singing that sounds even a smidge human-like, call for help right away. Don¡¯t wait, or you won¡¯t be in control of yourself,¡± zhe finished.


    Krid was sitting up, legs crossed. ¡°Not in control?¡±


    ¡°Like in a dream.¡±


    He nodded, grave. ¡°I¡¯ll do as you¡¯ve said.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Zhe turned to go. ¡°We should switch to double watches from here on.¡±


    ¡°Should you fetch Fenn to join me?¡± he asked.


    Syrdin hesitated. Zhe had plans that required the lad to be sound asleep. ¡°You¡¯ll be fine for now. It already completed tonight¡¯s hunt.¡± With that, zhe trotted to zheir tent.


    Inside, zhe snatched his notebook from beside Fenn¡¯s bedroll where he¡¯d laid it when he¡¯d finally stopped scribbling. Silent as a stone, zhe flipped it open. Most of the pages had useless sketches of animals or plants with some notes on their roles in the balance of life, or rather, the chaos of it on this plane. Boring.


    On the first page about an artifact, zhe stopped. It was the boots zhe wore. They depicted a great warrior backed by a deep blue orb with dark lines stretching outward. Not a moon, nor a sun. Darkness, Syrdin knew. This she-elf, with a noble face and full armor, wore her hair braided into twists. With one hand, she gripped a naginata stabbed into the ground. The other held a ceremonial keris against her chest, hilt-upward. Sabaed.


    Mother, Ath-togail whispered behind zhem, identifying the drawing. Syrdin whipped zheir head around, but no one was there, only a vague sense of presence.


    Finally decided to manifest? Syrdin thought to her. I was starting to think you couldn¡¯t.


    I merely hide.


    Is he here, the Highfather?


    I don¡¯t know.


    Syrdin frowned. What do you know?


    Read, little one. There is much to learn, and these people can help us.


    Zheir frown deepened. That¡¯s what I was doing. Zhe turned back to the page. A long string of notes read,


    ¡°Increasingly, I suspect this goddess to be Sabaed. I at first resisted the idea based on the legends around her betrayal. A love affair is the epitome of disloyalty, a particular hypocrisy if the Etnfrandian Commands of War have their roots in her teachings. Loyalty is the First Decree. I did not think this artifact, a symbol of Wartime, could both represent her and belong to the Etnfrandians, who loathe her.


    Moreover, her weapons support her connection to the Commands of War. The dagger held to her chest, which represents the center of morality, could have but one purpose: a clean kill. This is consistent with the Third Decree of a clean fight. One does not leave an enemy to suffer slowly from a lethal wound. Alternatively, the very act of killing could be the center of her morality, but I find this unlikely with the accompanying glaive driven into the ground, not a body. Either way, the figure¡¯s connection to the Commands made me doubt her identity as Sabaed.


    But then again the artifact could be older than the Great Wars themselves. This means it would indeed depict Sabaed¨Can artifact stolen from her possession, perhaps, or made in tribute prior to her betrayal. The other Houses; especially Tradition, Education, and Cultivation; connect directly to a member of the pantheon¨Ceven our ¡°Highfather¡± is named the same as that high god among them. Why wouldn¡¯t the House of Militant Arts be the righteous counterpart of Sabaed¡¯s role?


    And still there is more evidence for the warrior to be Sabaed. Namely, her appearance is completely consistent with that of the Night Elf tribe, as depicted on the next page.¡±


    Syrdin flipped the page greedily. It indeed depicted Night Elves. Not in their protective leathers nor the ceremonial silks that zhe had known, but in cotton tunics. The Brikhvarnni Night Elves. Fenn must have stashed some colors somewhere because he tinted the elves with them. Their skin was a mix of graphite gray and a blueish hue. Their clothes were left white, as was the textured hair, but the eyes he had shaded red, occasionally with a purpling hint of blue. None had skin marbled like Syrdin¡¯s¨Cnone so scarred. It was accurate, of course; a dagger to the eye.


    Syrdin pursed zheir lips. He was supposed to be a student of Elven lore and enchantment magic. Why the interest in Night Elves? Scholar¡¯s curiosity? His study lacked¡­ hostility.


    As zheir eyes scanned the page, they came to rest on something that made zheir stomach drop out of zheir belly.


    Me.


    In the bottom right corner, several sketches captured Syrdin¡¯s likeness. The gentle turn of zheir nose, zheir hard jaw, the harsh angle of zheir cheek. The line of zheir cowl ended most of the sketches save one. That one attempted to reconstruct zheir face, offering deep, hooded eyes and a heavy brow. Zhe smiled. It made zhem appear quite manly in a highland way.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    He knows I¡¯m a Night Elf. Zhe traced the drawings with zheir finger. He already knows but said nothing of it. He seemed to have known for a while, yet had done little more than ask why zhe followed them here.


    If zhe was honest, zhe had expected Fenn to figure it out after they shared a tent for a few nights. Syrdin wasn¡¯t a sound sleeper by any means, but neither was zhe a still one. The hood would slip. Zhe had known that. Zhe had expected to be confronted and have to threaten and persuade. Instead, Syrdin felt a swell of pride at how excellent a cover zhe had discovered in the Brikhvarnni refugees. Even an elf familiar with that group of people had assumed it.


    Zhe flipped the pages, sifting through the notes on the artifacts. The rest were useless. Some notes on how they were more likely tributes to, not belongings of, the gods¨Ca correction of his earlier statement. He seemed excited by the idea of his people making tributes to the gods. Foolish. Gods could be as destructive as helpful. Just look at the state of my people.


    And what of me? Ath-togail whispered to zheir mind.


    You and I want the same things.


    Zhe could feel the goddess considering this. Syrdin didn¡¯t know what Ath-togail expected beyond this mission. Some champion? Syrdin would never champion a god. Zhe would sooner choose death.


    That can be arranged. Ath-togail¡¯s voice was gentle. It was as much an offer as a threat. We need not continue our deal.


    With teeth gritted, Syrdin flipped back to the page which depicted zhem. Zhe slipped Fenn¡¯s pencil from the page it marked. I said we want the same things.


    That seemed to quell the goddess for the time being.


    Fenn sighed in his sleep, his eyes twitching in dreams. Those eyes were the deep, hooded ones he had drawn. Yet they were not dark, not shadowed. If anything, they generally held kindness¨Ccompassion. He was weak with it. Though what he held in compassion, he doubled in intelligence. His notes were thorough. Even Syrdin could tell he was piecing together a larger realization. Zhe intended to be around to benefit whenever he put it all together.


    Zhe scratched out a swift note. My eyes are wrong. I don¡¯t have double-lids, like your people, and my hair is wavy and a lot thicker than you think. Try smoothing out the eyes and forehead.


    With that, zhe stuck the pencil into the page and closed the book, slipping it back into place. That simple note would betray that zhe had rifled through his notes, but it would also establish some communication between them. One where Fenn didn¡¯t feel the need to fret for five minutes before speaking.


    Syrdin curled up for sleep, not bothering to adjust zheir hood. Zheir face was no longer a secret from anyone but the girl. Whether from fear, respect, or some misplaced kindness, Fenn was not of a mind to reveal zheir race. Or pity. Zhe rolled over. I can work with that.


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    The moment Krid emerged from his tent with a greeting nod was, evidently, the moment everyone else was required to pack up and move. Fenn stood from his cushion where he had kept watch, listening for that supposed singing voice. He stretched his aching muscles¨Cthe heat warded off stiffness but could not save him from strain¨Cand reached for his notebook. Krid had forbidden him from opening it while on watch. Now, at long last, he could jot down his theories on the singer before¨C


    ¡°Next time you¡¯re on third watch, you¡¯ll prepare breakfasts for everyone to grab. It¡¯ll save time. Now wake Syrdin. Please.¡± Krid huffed off toward the food rations.


    Fenn blinked at the terse orders. The please had been an afterthought. Though he tried, he couldn¡¯t recall doing anything to upset Krid. Fenn plucked up the cushion and brought it into the tent for Syrdin to stash in zheir bag.


    He stood over zhem, hesitated, then chose to squat and roll his own bedroll. Syrdin soon stirred and sat up. It was incredible how the cowl stayed over zheir head.


    ¡°Sunrise¡¯s blessing,¡± he greeted zhem. He placed the cushion near zhem. ¡°Could you put this away? I¡¯m not sure why, but Krid is in a foul mood. I think he¡¯d prefer we scurry like the ants today.¡± It was a Brikhvarnni saying, and he enjoyed the perfect application of it. Efficiently and in order, like ants.


    Syrdin sighed. ¡°Must be because I told him he¡¯d be useless against that magic voice.¡±


    Half a dozen questions leapt to Fenn¡¯s mind. He itched to grab his notebook and probe zhem for details. Instead, zhe was up and packing before he had managed to piece together his first question.


    ¡°Did it sound elven?¡± he blurted.


    Zhe paused for the merest moment. ¡°We both know it¡¯s not an elf.¡±


    ¡°No, but if the timbre of the voice was humanoid¡­¡± he trailed off as zheir eyes turned to him, ever glowing in the shadows of the hood. ¡°...it would limit the possibilities.¡± He couldn¡¯t help how he braced as though he would be struck for speaking.


    Syrdin emitted an exaggerated sigh. ¡°It sounded enough like a person to be disorienting, but a little like a bird. Now pack. Or do you enjoy Krid¡¯s grumpy side?¡±


    Fenn hustled to stuff his bag and roll the tent. This time, he managed to fit everything the way it had been yesterday. He even remembered to shorten the straps before he pulled it on, despite other thoughts picking at his attention. A little like a bird, zhe¡¯d said. Sea-faring sirens were not an option in a forest. Dryads or nymphs were a possibility. Then, among shoth, there were a few kinds that were said to charm prey. Only a few of those could be dangerous¨Cwell, life-threatening¨Cto people of their size. A shoth seemed likeliest.


    He stood from the ground, testing the ties that secured the tent to his pack. Yes, he nodded to himself, the odds are low that this shoth is a very dangerous one.


    The tent rolled down the back of his pack. He bent under Krid¡¯s glare, turning to gather the tent. It pulled with him, still partially attached.


    Syrdin laughed, and Galendria sent zhem a splintering glare as she ran over to help. ¡°I bet zhe sabotaged it, just to embarrass you,¡± she said, frosty.


    Fenn shook his head as Gale helped him lower the pack without crushing his tent. ¡°I was distracted.¡±


    Gale sighed, disappointed that she couldn¡¯t blame Syrdin. ¡°This place does have a lot to consider. It¡¯s very much like the songs.¡±


    Fenn reached for a peg, folding it with deliberate care into the tent. ¡°Yes, I never expected so much of it to be true. Unending evenings of dance¡­¡± he glanced up at the unmoving sun. ¡°It turned out very literal.¡±


    ¡°Well, I never expected this place to literally exist.¡± Gale¡¯s fingers worked deftly on the ties on her side of his tent.


    He studied the thoughtful knit forming in her brow. ¡°We learned of it in school, a little,¡± he prompted her. He could recall a few grade school mentions of having segregated tribes and of a Wildland where they dwelt. Always a frightful, evil place.


    The knit of her brow deepened, her lips pressing together with the effort of remembrance while she worked. ¡°Only as a symbol of ancient times for barbaric tribes.¡±


    Fenn frowned as he tugged the loose ends of his string into a double knot. ¡°They truly left no room for most citizens to wonder about magic and the Fae.¡±


    ¡°They?¡± She leaned back from the now-secured tent, head cocked.


    He rose to his feet, bobbing his gratitude for her help as he heaved his bag onto his shoulders. ¡°The House of Tradition.¡± It was obvious enough.


    She rose after him, her head only tilting further, hair falling free from behind her lower ear. He realized, then, that he had spoken very little to her of the true work of that House.


    ¡°Do you really believe it was purposeful?¡± she asked.


    He looked away. The memory of that library burning flickered inside him. He snuffed it, leaving a cold, empty feeling. My father went to great lengths to prevent me from exploring that knowledge. I doubt he began that practice.


    A touch from Gale sent him leaping out of his thoughts in a flash of panic.


    ¡°Fenn, are you alright?¡± She examined his expression with worry in her own.


    ¡°I¡¯m well.¡± He shook himself. She¡¯d only put a hand to his elbow; she¡¯d only been concerned. He forced himself to meet her worry with his gaze, but his mouth had dried like cotton. Why try? Just two days before, Gale had resisted the idea that Etnfrandian histories had been falsified. He knew he should explain how he knew, yet the words felt heavy. They would be slow to come¨Cif they¡¯d come at all. Krid glared at them. Scurry like ants. ¡°We¡¯d best grab our biscuits and prepare to march.¡±


    Blessedly, she let the topic drop as they grabbed breakfast and took formation. The biscuits were stale, but the day was new and Fenn soon forgot Krid¡¯s sour mood in favor of the fauna around them. He could spot one or two creatures he hadn¡¯t noticed before, which he hoped was a sign that the flora would change, and they would leave Ferngal¡¯s forest behind.


    By the time they neared lunch¨Cby Mell¡¯s pocketwatch¨Che had about a dozen more notes to write. When Krid called a halt, Fenn wasted no time pulling out his book. He flipped it open. His pencil was wedged in the wrong page, the one with the Night Elves. He stiffened and glanced at Syrdin, hoping zhe wouldn¡¯t notice it. Normally, even a small peek in zheir direction would earn him a glare. Now zhe pointedly ignored him, engaging Krid in a conversation about a spar. One that would wait, he heard, until they had left this forest.


    He turned back to the notebook, ready to flip to a fresh page, when he noticed it: an inscription in an unfamiliar hand. He blinked, not believing what he saw. Not only had Syrdin read his notebook without him noticing, but zhe had left a note. About zheir appearance. He stared at zhem, then back at the page.


    ¡°Fenn, is something wrong?¡± Gale asked, approaching with rations for two in her hands.


    Quickly, he flipped to a blank page. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I just ¨CI was thinking about the singing Syrdin heard,¡± he said. He was no good at hiding the truth, but this lie intrigued her.


    ¡°Singing? What sang?¡± she leaned forward. ¡°Another song-shoth?¡±


    Fenn explained the magical predator swiftly, then listened to Gale¡¯s amazement at the many song-shoth of the forest while he jotted his notes. She marveled to him in her own lyrical chatter at the ways the different species often harmonized together, then created a cacophony. Once again, her sense of wonder far exceeded her sense of self-preservation. Despite the sweat on his back and the uncertainty ahead, he smiled to himself.


    Syrdin¡¯s cowl turned to him, and he thought the glint of zheir eyes seemed somehow less dangerous, less mocking than it had. It lingered a moment longer, penetrated less harshly.


    He blinked and stared down at his page. Why didn¡¯t zhe say anything?


    ¡°Fenn, what do you know of the weather patterns here?¡± Mell¡¯s question pulled his attention back up. ¡°Because I think it¡¯s starting to look like rain.¡±

 Chapter 24: Stampede of Waters

    Tyranach (Thunder)


    Dark-smudged horizon,


    A rush in the leaves;


    Hints of the battle


    High over peaks.


    Hear mountains tremble


    ¡®Neath roiling skies.


    Trees shiver and cower


    To their branches! We fly!


    Clactyrnach! Clactyrnach!


    Oh fearsome fight!


    Spare us, the elves,


    From your thund¡¯rous might!


    Stampede of great waters


    Tramples the ground.


    Babes cling to mothers


    (The) assailant surrounds


    White coldstone arrows


    Pierce at our backs.


    Howlers gust through,


    Hunting in packs.


    Clactyrnach! Clactyrnach!


    Oh fearsome fight!


    Spare us, the elves!


    From your thund¡¯rous might!


    The wind howlers die


    Ychesge hoof away


    Lift up song, little brothers


    Paint chromatic array


    Clactyrnach! Clactyrnach!


    Oh Fearsome Fight!


    Spared us today,


    Tomorrow is bright!


    <hr>


    Mellark


    Mell studied the dark haze that tarnished the horizon, just visible between the upper canopy¡¯s branches. Is it getting bigger?


    Fenn squinted that direction. ¡°It¡¯s not rained in the time since I first visited, and that was over a moon ago,¡± he spoke slowly, studying the haze. ¡°But I suppose there are some legends of Fae weather.¡±


    Krid stood and opened his snout, tasting the air.


    Unease stirred Mell to shift her weight.¡°What do these legends entail?¡± she asked, ¡°Because I am beginning to think we may just be receiving first-hand experience.¡± The haze grew darker by the minute.


    ¡°I¡­ well some of them are magically conjured by great creatures¨C¡±


    ¡°The clactyrnach!¡± Gale interrupted him with bouncing excitement.


    ¡°That is the most prominent legend, but it takes place in the mountains. Then there are the times Boidhan sent rain to punish Anruwan, or when Dervalia made Naude cry and the whole land flooded.¡±


    Flood. She recalled the little tree by the pond with the moss that grew up the bark as high as her waist. ¡°Would you say most of the rain legends here are torrential? Flooding?¡± She could feel the dampness in the air now, the pressure aching in her knees. It was a tell-tell sign of two things: she wasn¡¯t young, and the weather would be rough.


    ¡°Why, yes, but those would be the kinds of weather that would become legend. Regular patterns would not be worth noting. It¡­ could be nothing.¡± Fenn¡¯s voice pinched at the end like a question, unsure.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Krid¡¯s head was turning, tracking something in the forest. Mell followed his gaze to see a fleet of fox-like creatures scattering away from the direction of the clouds¨Cit was clear now that they were storm clouds.


    ¡°It is going to rain, and rain dangerously,¡± Krid declared, beating her to the conclusion. ¡°We should find high ground and shelter.¡±


    ¡°We could pitch camp and wait it out,¡± Gale offered.


    ¡°Sure, if you think tents will protect you from floods.¡± Syrdin jabbed with disdain.


    Mell bit back a reprimand. There¡¯s no time. ¡°The ground is flat, so where¨C¡±


    ¡°We should follow the animals,¡± Krid answered before she could finish. ¡°They are covering their holes or fleeing. We should make as much progress away from the storm as we can, quickly, and shelter in the low bows of the sturdiest trees if we don¡¯t find high ground.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were to avoid trees during a lightning storm.¡± Fenn¡¯s hands fiddled nervously in front of him.


    Mell peered into the sky. The gray clouds reached over their heads like fingers grasping at the purple sky, and one rolled across the sun, darkening their shade from above the high palms. ¡°If lightning strikes, I suspect it will hit the upper canopy. We¡¯re doing what Krid says, and we¡¯re not arguing about it any longer. Now let¡¯s move.¡±


    No one protested except Mell¡¯s own feet at the idea of a run. They must have only jogged a few minutes¨Cthough it felt much longer to her¨Cwhen a drop of rain fell in front of her. The sky had turned a smoldering slate. The leaves hissed discontent and fear, and the air seemed to crackle with threats.


    Another fat drop landed on her head.


    ¡°We need to stop!¡± she called to the others over a rush of wind. If it began to rain, she didn¡¯t doubt for a moment that floods would overtake them.


    ¡°What?¡± Krid roared back, stopping.


    She pointed to the trees, and Krid nodded confirmation that he understood.


    Fenn, however, did not. He approached a tree and noted how the leaves had closed, both folded in half and curled inward, a protection against the winds and rains.


    ¡°In the tree, Fair Ceann,¡± she heard Krid say as he gently led Gale to a low, sturdy tree and offered her a literal leg up. ¡°And hang on tightly.¡± She handed him her pack, clambered up, then received it back.


    Syrdin had already perched in the neighboring tree and was tying zheir satchel closed and tightening the strap.


    Fenn seemed to be trying to memorize the shape of the curled leaves as he removed his pack. Mell sighed. ¡°Get in the tree, Fenn.¡± As she spoke, a rushing sound erupted in the distance, rising above the wind.


    ¡°What?!¡± He called.


    ¡°In the tree!¡± Mell yelled this time. Her foot found a knot on the trunk to press on, and her panic gave her strength, allowing her to haul herself up. Droplets flew from the sky in a steady rain as the rushing grew closer. She sat up, puffing, and pulled herself to the tree¡¯s trunk. Fenn was already opposite her, his traveler¡¯s pack wedged in front of him, and he was pulling off his glasses to tuck into a secure breast pocket clearly designed for the purpose.


    She shook off her surprise. Right, he is still a spry elf.


    ¡°It¡¯s the yschege!¡± Gale¡¯s voice yelled behind her, something between excited and terrified.


    Mell squinted at the stormline. Her heart thrummed its terror, her body tensing as she gazed at the great wall of waters streaming toward them. This could be the day I die.


    ¡°What¡¯s yschege?¡± She tried to distract herself from the possibility of death with the new term. The wall was nearly upon her.


    ¡°It¡¯s a stampede of waters, or perhaps a horse-like water-nymph, I¡¯m un¨C¡± Fenn¡¯s final words were lost in the roar of the waters as not only a wall of rain, but a tide of floodwaters crashed around them.


    <hr>


    Galendria


    She laughed a screaming laugh of abandon as she clung to the tree. That legendary stampede trampled the ground beneath her, and foam licked and flew on the waves like manes on the necks of wild stallions. She could almost see the heads of the horses in the waves as they raced one another through the forest. The ground shook under their hooves, rattling the trees and her heart with it. The wind screeched in terror as it was thrown about by the whims of the storm, the droplets within them wailing in protest of their suicidal fall from the sky.


    Nothing under the scrutiny of that storm could escape the severe judgment it wrought on the land. The waters surged over the ground, deep as an elf¡¯s stomach, and the thunder cracked, and the sky spat its vehemence upon them. She clung there, to the branches that quivered in fear, and felt a thrill: at being alive, at seeing such power, such wonder, such awesome beauty. She found her tears mixed with the rain.


    A real clactyrnach battle. She shivered and smiled and cried as she clung there, clung until her arms ached and her body grew numb from the cold rain.


    Though it had blown upon them swiftly, it was not so sudden as the end of it. A great wind twisted and blew the waters away to the right and the left, and the ground emerged again. The sun shone out overhead, though clouds hung around on every side. Light glittered on every folded leaf and hunched bow and on the hair and faces of her companions. And Fenn. His hair shone brilliantly, blown in five directions. His ears were purple with cold, and the tip of his nose was nearly blue where it buttoned upward. Something about it reminded her of their youth.


    She found herself smiling at him from the next tree over, silly and yet somehow handsome. ¡°Is it over?¡± she gasped, muscles shaking from both cold and weariness.


    ¡°It may just be the eye of the storm,¡± Mell suggested from her perch in the neighboring tree with Fenn.


    ¡°Gods, I hope not,¡± Fenn retrieved his glasses from a pocket on his odd, white shirt.


    Oh! He wasn¡¯t wearing his glasses! It explained why he had looked more like his younger self. He hadn¡¯t had them before he departed Etnfrandia.


    ¡°I thought my arms would give out.¡± He pushed his glasses into place. ¡°And I didn¡¯t care to be washed away.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t say,¡± Syrdin chuckled from under a hood drooping with water.


    A huffing beside Gale reminded her that the drakeman was sharing her tree. He was sniffing the air in that strange, open-mouth posture of an animal.


    She looked around. It seemed like the aftermath should have been worse: cluttered with torn leaves and broken branches. Instead, it was more like the world had been swept clean.


    A gasp from Mell pulled her attention in their direction, toward the origin of the storm. Another gray wall approached. Not a moment later, she heard the distant roar of it, then louder, crashing closer at alarming speed.


    ¡°Fenn!¡± Gale squeaked. He was sitting upright, not holding on to the tree.


    The stormwall wailed toward them as Fenn turned to see what was the matter.


    He froze and Mell reached for one of his arms to pull him further toward the trunk. He snatched his glasses off his face, and that was the last thing she saw of him before the world was consumed by pelting rain. She squeezed her tree trunk and shut her eyes against the wall. This one came with hail as it whipped over her. It barraged the trees, cracking through the branches and folded leaves over her head to beat on her back.


    Once the initial force passed, she opened her eyes long enough to see that Fenn and Mell were gone.

 Chapter 25: Baptism by Flood

    ¡°If history must remember me, let it remember this: no person knows themself until they have died; they do not live until they have touched death, seen her face, and been changed by the Breath of Life returned.¡±


    -The Queen of Dorcha Ur, UE 2499


    <hr>


    Fennorin


    One moment he was reaching for the tree, and the next the bark ripped at the skin of his outstretched hand as he was hurled into a dark world of mist and rain. He plunged into the rush of waters beneath where it crashed over and around him, shoving him further from his former refuge. The great force of the waves pounded the very breath from his lungs. He rolled and spun under the water. A sudden, uneven jumble of roots wedged him between the crushing waters and the unforgiving ground. Just as he reached out a hand to catch hold of the roots, he was ripped away again. The torrent yanked him in another direction, and for a moment he felt his arms turn one way and his legs another before his middle slammed into a hard, round obstacle. If he¡¯d had breath left, he lost it then.


    Trunk!


    Fenn¡¯s instincts kicked in, and he curled around it. His body wedged against the tree, he worked one arm next to his legs. Then, with all the might of his numbed arms, he pulled up, shifting a leg to the other side of the tree. He battled the current with every motion as it wrestled to tug his feet from under him. At last, he managed to prop his knee against the bark and propel himself out of the water.


    He tried to gasp as he shot himself upward. Instead, his body convulsed, working as hard to push water from his lungs as he worked to hold the trunk. When he caught his first rain-filled breath, he pressed himself to the smooth bark. It was one of what Mell called palms. Gusts of wind fought to rip him away. Above him, the palm swayed recklessly close to the clouds, begging to be struck with lightning.


    Are the others alright?


    He peered through the blur, but all that met him were shadows and the downpour of rain and hail in threatening grays.


    ¡°Fenn!¡± Another gust carried Galendria¡¯s faint call. Thank the gods. If she was calling for him, then she was living and breathing, and not terribly far away. That boded well for the others, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m alive,¡± he whispered back. There was no use in yelling. In good weather, his weak voice barely carried across a classroom.


    He clung to the tree. Alive. His muscles ached from the first half of the storm. He was unsure he would survive the second half; though, apart from the pelting of hail, it wasn¡¯t as deep or as violent as its predecessor. The rushing waters rose only to his thighs, but they pulled powerfully, and he fought constantly to keep his feet from being swept off the ground. The rain pelted him from all sides as the gusts chased each other rapidly and hail bruised his back. The cold of it penetrated beyond the skin and muscles, chilling him to the core with a terror he¡¯d never known. A flash of lightning split the sky. Without his glasses, all he could see were glaring reflections and deep shadows that left him blinking at spots.


    I¡¯ve brought us here to die.


    The realization crushed him more than the water ever could have. He¡¯d known the Faeworld was dangerous, but now he lived it fully, facing judgement like that of the gods themselves. Boidhan¡¯s wrath when he realized he had been betrayed by his wife could hardly have been more fearsome. For himself, this danger never mattered. But Mellark had a career, a job she loved, and some unresolved business with her estranged family. Krid had a daughter and an entire company of dragonfolk who would mourn him, even a wife who would hunt Fenn down to kill him for not returning her husband to her. And Galendria?


    Her parents would never stop looking for her to come home.


    He shook with a cold deeper than his body could feel.


    For him, the only people in the five realms who might miss him, if he died here, were with him. It was unfair to the others.


    Even if he fought and managed to survive, he¡¯d be no aid to his companions. He was too weak. Too useless. He could not keep them safe like he wanted¨Clike he¡¯d promised Galendria.


    The water tugged at his legs, splashes leaping at him, taunting him.


    If he let go, if he slid away with the rush of waters, the others would give up this mission and go home. They could go live their lives. It was his fault they were here. It might be the only ¡°help¡± an elf like him could offer.


    The storm tensed, the air crackling with energy. He held his breath.


    Crack. A flash blinded him for a moment, and thunder left his ears ringing. Over the tone, he heard a grinding and splintering of wood. Shadowy blobs were falling from the sky. He watched a lean shadow tumble. Not his tree, but one nearby had been struck and broken, the top careening down. It crashed into the flood with much creaking and splashing. The earth around him shook, and other trees rattled with pain.


    That could have been his tree. Or worse, it could have fallen on the others.


    I don¡¯t want to die.


    The realization was odd and sudden. He redoubled his grip on the tree. He had no rationale for it. He wasn¡¯t worth much. He hadn¡¯t contribute meaningfully to any society: just some stuffy books for people with niche interests. He¡¯d even abandoned the only family he¡¯d ever known: Kitaryn and his mother, to deal with a cruel father and patron. To Galendria he¡¯d withheld his intentions and brought her ruin.


    He simply didn¡¯t want to die.


    He wanted to find the truth, and present it to others, yes, but at the deepest level, if he had to choose between knowing and living? He would want to live. And if he lived, he would want to help, truly and meaningfully. More than just a dusty corner of books. Yes. If he was responsible for them coming to the Fae, then he could be responsible for their survival. And if they returned having acquired something meaningful¡­


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    The truth.


    He pressed his forehead into the tree, feeling the bite of the bark. He could take Gale to visit her people with new knowledge of their homelands. That same knowledge would make Mell¡¯s career. Krid could go home to his wife. Syrdin¡­ he still didn¡¯t know what zhe wanted.


    He shifted his feet, wedging them into the mud and roots. I will live. He hugged that tree with all the might he could muster.


    That was when he realized that he, by some gift of the gods, was still holding his glasses in his hand. Not only could he survive this, but he had the tools he needed for what came next.


    He would live, he would see his friends alive again, and¨Cfrosts take it¨Che would find out why the gods abandoned the elves in the Trueplane. The world needed to know. He needed to know. Maybe it was not worth the lives of the others, or even his own. But he would not die. Not if he could help it. And he¡¯d help them survive, too, somehow, and make it all worth it.


    The terrible winds and frightful torrent did not last as long, this time, as they had in the first half of the storm, and that was a great mercy. When several gusts had spun themselves out without shoving him around and the downpour had slowed to a steady rain, he finally braved replacing his glasses.


    The fallen tree loomed near him like a felled dragon from tales of old, its body of the more serpentine type. Its toppling had damaged a great many trees, their branches scattered far and wide around it, washed into piles at the bases of trees. The water streamed in one direction, lapping at his booted calves.


    Perhaps it collects in pools like the pond we saw.


    He released his grip on the palm. He couldn¡¯t feel his hands and had to visually inspect them. The bark had rubbed away a layer of his skin, leaving his hands, which were purple from cold, with a red veneer on top. He peered around, but the others were nowhere in sight. He couldn¡¯t even recall what direction he would find his companions in, but he knew his pack, if recoverable, would be downstream.


    His notebook was safe, at least. He had enchanted that with a spell of waterproofing ages ago, and it was tucked in his satchel, which was still tied tightly across his stomach.


    But the share of rations he carried may be lost forever, as well as his tent.


    Beauty¡¯s Blessing if  I¡¯m not lost myself.


    But when he lifted a leg to step forward,  his knees buckled out from under him, sending him splashing into the gray waters below. He scrambled to all fours, but every movement of his numbed legs burned with the fury of a thousand ants. And they were heavy, like rods of steel. He couldn¡¯t lift them to stand. He squeezed the mud between his fingers, seeing nothing but the blur of gray clouds reflected at the top of the water. Or perhaps the water was gray. He could not tell, for his glasses had fallen into the water.


    He had held them through the storm, only to lose them now.


    His chest tightened. All of that energy, that defiance, fled him. He closed his eyes as a tremor ran through him.  If I ever find them, if I¡¯m not eaten by wild animals, I¡¯m putting a locative spell on every one of the others. And, for beauty¡¯s sake, a recall spell on my glasses! But for that, he¡¯d have to be able to go on. And he had neither the tools nor the strength on his own.


    ¡°Fenn?¡± Mell¡¯s rich voice washed over him like the warm rays of the sun. He looked up, leaning back on his knees. He could feel himself trembling all over. A shadow approached, and he heard the sloshing of her feet as she waded through.


    ¡°Mell?¡±


    The sloshing turned rapid as she ran toward him. ¡°You¡¯re alive!¡±


    He blinked at her. She was getting close. ¡°Careful! I¡¯ve just lost my glasses here!¡±


    She slowed. ¡°Are you hurt?¡±


    ¡°I¨CI¡¯m not sure.¡± his voice shook. He was a bit bruised, maybe, but gods was he tired. He could just collapse into the water. His hands were beginning to throb, and he couldn¡¯t feel his feet at the end of his legs. ¡°I can¡¯t stand up just now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Fenn.¡± The shadow that was Mell lowered by his side, a warm hand landing on his shoulder. The warmth radiated from her hand, to the bruises on his back, down to his burning hands and even his feet. The pain dulled. Healing. He shuddered. He wanted to cry. He wasn¡¯t lost, not quite. Mell was here.


    For a moment, the world itself turned bright, white reflecting into his eyes almost painfully, and the air turned warm. It was only a moment, then it was cool and gray again.


    ¡°Aha!¡± He heard a splash in front of him and saw some movement. ¡°Here! They caught the sunlight.¡±


    He felt two hard shapes press into his shoulder, bridged by a thin line.


    My spectacles. The means to the truth he sought. ¡°You found them!¡± He unburied a hand from the mud, shook off the water, and reached for them. He rubbed them quickly on his shirt, then put them on.


    He blinked at Mell. Through blurry droplets, he could see her braids drooped with water, her robes sagging over her form. The straps of her much smaller pack still weighed on her shoulders.


    She smiled at him. ¡°Better?¡± she asked.


    He nodded. The urge to cry nearly overwhelmed him again. Here, he had tried to find the strength to seek the truth, to help the others, and to live, only to have it all saved by Mell. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Breeze¡¯s bliss.¡± She shook his shoulder then let him go. ¡°Any clue what direction the others are in?¡±


    She was blown out of the tree, too, he realized. He shook his head, appraising her. She must have healed herself because she seemed heavy with exhaustion, but unharmed. ¡°No, but I think my pack must have washed that way.¡± He pointed toward the fallen tree. An abundance of sticks and brush had collected against it where it blocked the flow of water, creating a pileup.


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll start there.¡± She stood, reaching out a hand to him. ¡°Are you able to stand now?¡±


    He accepted her help and tried his feet. He found them achy and still tingling, but willing to obey. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    He led the way. After some deduction about the variation in currents and consideration for the fact that the storm had blown them in approximately the same direction, they did manage to find his pack. It was a ways further downstream than the fallen tree. It rested in the water with just the blue tent poking out against the ruddy color of a low tree. He heaved it out. The rations would be ruined, but at least the tent was still attached.


    He was glad for Galendria¡¯s help securing it that morning. If it had not fallen loose, they would not have double-tied it.


    Galendria! If Mellark had also been blown from their tree, there was no guarantee the others had managed to keep hold. Gale had called out from not terribly far away. What if she¡¯s alone? Or Krid? Or Syrdin?


    He turned to Mell. ¡°Do you think¨C¡±


    As always, she¡¯d read him before he fully knew his own mind. ¡°We¡¯ll find them.¡± Her voice was warm and sure. ¡°All of them.¡±

 Chapter 26: By Thunder!

    The Brikhvarnni nation is a curious one,¡± says professor Alamon, Dean of Sociology at Assandial University, with a twinkle of delight in his eye. ¡°It was once a land of feuding clans, each one said to correspond to a different element that kindled within them. That is long over, and now the clans are divided into smaller Bloodclans and unified under the Dynasty of Growth.¡±


    To the question of why so little is understood about the dragonfolk, the professor laughed. ¡°They aren¡¯t xenophobes like many seem to think. Really, they are just private creatures secluded by the desert. They actually embrace outsiders who adopt their values. They even have a funny little name for them: Newts.¡±


    -Interview with Georg Alamon


    The Explorer¡¯s Magazine


    <hr>


    Syrdin


    Syrdin woke to cold weight strangling zhem from the inside. Zheir body bent itself, convulsing as is pushed water from zheir stomach, zheir lungs. It burned in zheir nose and throat, choking zhem all over again. Darkness rimmed zheir vision. Through it, zhe could see zheir gloves clenching red mud under water that rose past zheir elbows.


    As the darkness cleared and zheir eyes began to focus, zhe saw a reflection. It rippled between zheir arms, gasping and wheezing at zhem. The movement of the water erased zheir scars, leaving the smooth, cruel face of Syrrah, daughter of Seph. Her eyes glimmered back at Syrdin. Zhe splashed the reflection away.


    Syrrah is dead. She died.


    Zhe gathered zheir strength to look around. The sky was still overcast, the last drops falling across the water¡¯s surface. Several trees loomed close around Syrdin with shreds of black linens tangled in the one nearest. Bark clung to zheir hood and satchel, which was still wrapped tightly against zheir back.


    Syrdin could remember the second stormwall hitting, losing grip, and nothing after. There had been no dream, no death. Zhe was lucky to be alive. Lucky to have been thrown into this cluster of trees.


    Zhe rose, zheir limbs heavy and half-numb from cold. Something moved in a tree. Syrdin spun to catch the flick of a striped tail disappearing into the folded leaves not a stone¡¯s throw away.


    Zhe stilled. Panthrae. This was a pack animal. No doubt a family of them lurked in the flood, seeking weak or wounded creatures in the aftermath of the storm.


    At that moment, Syrdin was that creature.


    Zhe lowered, ready to spring.


    A blur of motion streaked out from a tree on zheir other side. Syrdin rolled toward it so it overshot, and then sprinted¨Cor rather sloshed¨Caway. Fear pushed zhem onward over leaden feet. The creature hissed frustration behind zhem. Syrdin heard wood creak above zhem as the other one caught up in the trees.


    As its claws scraped the bark for a pounce, Syrdin swung zhemself around a tree, out of the way, and then up into its branches. Zhe was met by a third, smaller panthrae. It reared back, showing its cruelly curved teeth in a snarl. Another branch offered a quick escape as zhe dodged its claws. From there, Syrdin could see zheir best hope: highground. A tall palm had fallen, propped high out of the water at a slant by the trees it crushed.


    Zhe jumped and was hit from behind. Pain ripped across zheir upper back, unprotected by the satchel¡¯s bulk. Midair, zhe pulled a dagger and twisted. It pierced the creature¡¯s shoulder as they both landed in the flood. Syrdin¡¯s nose burned anew with water. Still, zhe rolled upright to see the one panthrae had backed away, howling in pain. Zhe did not wait for it to recover, or for the others to attack, but lunged toward the fallen tree.


    The three panthrae gave chase. Time seemed to slow, every splashing step an eternity. The panthrae leapt deftly between trees around zhem. Zhe gripped the dagger, ready for another attack. One pounced in front of zhem, intending to cut zhem off. Zhe threw the dagger to meet it in the air. It skimmed the cat¡¯s side as it dodged in its flight. Though Syrdin missed, so did the panthrae. Zhe plunged past. I need a better weapon.


    In a few more steps zhe was among the debris piling at the base of the fallen tree. From it, zhe snatched a hefty stick and swung that at another panthrae as it tried to jump in front of zhem. It ducked back down.


    Zhe jumped onto the fallen log and ambled quickly to where it rose above the trees, wielding the stick like a club. A glance toward the water where zhe had tossed the dagger told zhem it was lost until these panthrae were gone.


    With zheir bag closed tightly to zhem, zhe couldn¡¯t reach zheir sabre inside it. This stick, a few hidden daggers, and the high ground were all zhe had. Zhe tightened zheir grip on the makeshift staff. Time had called upon zhem to once again stand alone, and zhe would do it with all zheir courage. Zhe readied a swing.


    Just as Syrdin released the swing into a resounding thwack on the creature¡¯s cheek, a cacophonous ringing erupted in the forest..


    The drakeman!


    Krid charged toward zhem with a roar, banging his sword on his shield to draw the creatures¡¯ attention. Lagging behind him, Syrdin thought zhe saw a bit of waterlogged dress.


    A splash beneath zhem alerted them that a panthrae below had pounced. Zhe swung the stick to meet it in the air.


    Its wet fur smacked against the gnarled stick, the creature whimpering as it went down.


    Krid took a deep inhale. Syrdin thought zhe felt the air still. It was like the air before¡­


    Zhe lept on instinct¨Cjust in time as lightning shot from the Drakeman¡¯s open mouth into the panthrae next to zhem.


    Thunder boomed as zhe splashed into the water away from the drake and girl, almost crashing into one of the the three panthrae as they fled from before Krid. With another guttural roar, he disappeared into the water-logged forest after them.


    Syrdin stared after the place he had disappeared. In addition to the burning scratch on zheir back, points on Syrdin¡¯s skin stung, and zhe could smell charred wood behind zhem. Krid was Thunderkin. ¡°Thank the shadows of Morinmar for that drake,¡± Syrdin muttered in Dark Elvish.


    ¡°Syrdin have you seen Fenn?¡± It was indeed the delicate Flower Princess.


    Syrdin pulled zheir hood further forward and turned. ¡°If I¡¯d seen your boyfriend, you¡¯d be seeing him now.¡± The news that he was missing was unwelcome. Zhe needed him alive as much as the rest of them. He was the key to returning, and very possibly to more.


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    ¡°R-right.¡± Her shoulders sagged. Waterlogged, the girl looked a bit like a plucked bird, her hair stringing close to her head and her dress ripped and tied around her knees.


    Syrdin, finally throwing aside the hefty stick, set about dressing the cuts and bruises zhe¡¯d collected.  While zhe dabbed at the cut on zheir back, Gale offered no healing, and zhe did not ask¨Cnot from her. It was nothing Syrdin couldn¡¯t handle alone.


    At last, Krid sloshed through the trees to rejoin them, growling with contempt. ¡°Those beasts had better not come back if they know what¡¯s good for them.¡±


    ¡°I doubt any beasts will be coming near you after you just shot lightning from your throat.¡± Syrdin rinsed a cloth in the flood. The wound was shallow, but bled eagerly.


    ¡°I agree. You should¡¯ve mentioned you use magic!¡± Gale clasped her hands excitedly.


    ¡°Magic?¡± Krid huffed. ¡°That¡¯s no magic. Drakemen who have the power have it by nature.¡±


    Gale blinked with her silly, stringy head cocked. ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°What I see,¡± Syrdin cut in, ¡°is that we are missing two people, a healer and the bookworm we need to end this trip. I think we¡¯d better find them.¡± The less conversation zhe had to endure with Gale¡¯s stupidity, the better. Everyone knew the dragonfolk came in several kinds, and that many, though not all, possessed an energized ¡°breath:¡± fire, acid, lightning¨Cto think of a few. But better to be thinking of how we find our real magicians.


    <hr>


    Kridarnn


    ¡°And we¡¯d better find them,¡± Syrdin said.


    Krid scratched his throat thoughtfully. As much as he wished to find the Newt, his brother, he couldn¡¯t track someone in a flood. Scents and prints would be lacking. Krid seared out the concerns and pains that rose at the thought of losing such a kind, loyal friend. The three of them could circle for ages, but that would disregard Ferngal¡¯s instructions, and she wasn¡¯t a patient she-bird.


    Gale bit her lip before speaking her mind. ¡°Do you think they were washed far? Syrdin was here. Maybe they¡¯re nearby.¡±


    Krid shook his head. ¡°Fenn knows my power. If they haven¡¯t come at the sound of my thunder, then we won¡¯t find them here. If they¡¯re alive, they¡¯ll know to continue in the direction we were told, as should we. Let¡¯s return to where we weathered the storm and check our rations. We can continue from there.¡±


    ¡°But what if they can¡¯t move? What if they¡¯re hurt or drowned?¡±


    Syrdin crossed zheir arms. ¡°Hate to agree with her, but it¡¯s not very heroic of you to abandon the folks who hired you.¡±


    He frowned. If you want to search, you should just say so. ¡°I wasn¡¯t hired; I came of my own will. And a warrior can¡¯t protect them from storms. No, we should return to where we came from, unless one of you has a means to find them by magic. I can¡¯t smell them in the water and calling won¡¯t do any good if my thunder didn¡¯t. The best we could do is make a few wide sweeps on our way.¡±


    Syrdin huffed but didn¡¯t argue. Light shone through a singed hole in zheir hood as zhe turned zheir head away, sending a shutter through him. He hated to resort to his exhaled weapon when an ally was exposed. It churned up inside easily, but it lacked precision. In one burst, he could hurt his friends as much as his enemies, the tendrils of lighting penetrating their skin to burn them through. Today, Syrdin had dodged. If zhe hadn¡¯t jumped¡­ But zhe had.


    ¡°Syrdin¡­ you don¡¯t happen to have the scrying crystal, do you?¡± Gale asked.


    ¡°No.¡± Zhe stuffed wound dressings into zheir bag and shouldered it, ready to leave. ¡°I left it with Mell.¡±


    ¡°Maybe she¡¯ll be able to find us with it.¡±


    ¡°More likely she would find Fenn, first.¡± Krid pointed out. They seemed to be limited in how often they could use the thing, and Fenn was the most necessary for escaping this world. And perhaps the most vulnerable.


    The she-elf took a hefty breath and nodded. ¡°That¡¯d be for the best. She can heal herself and him, if either of them need it.¡± She was trying to stay optimistic, but her eyes were glassy.


    With that, Krid spread them out and led a few wide sweeps of the area where they¡¯d found Syrdin before they returned, hoping Fate would provide. There was nothing. Syrdin remained vigilant, but the acrid scent of worry wafted from Gale, a reflection of Krid¡¯s own feelings. But there was no telling if Fenn was alive or dead. If he was dead, they all were. He was the one who could open the Door out.


    Once returned to where they¡¯d weathered the storm, he forced his mind to assess the situation. Syrdin¡¯s rations were, of course, unharmed in a magic bag, but his were mostly soaked beyond repair and Gale¡¯s were squished half to crumbles¨Cedible still. They had two tents to work with, but inches of water covered the ground. Camping was not yet an option.


    A glance to the trees showed him a great shoth larger than a man. It eyed them from the upper canopy, its pick-like head cocked. It licked its beak. Krid stared it down, daring it to attack until it swooped away. Good. He hoped the leaves would unfold soon and provide them cover once again.


    ¡°Looks like Ferngal¡¯s minions are keeping an eye on us,¡± Syrdin noted. ¡°Better not stick around after all.¡±


    Krid grunted. He hadn¡¯t thought of the shoth as working with Ferngal, but the idea made him uneasy.


    Out of nowhere, Fair Gale burst into tears. She blubbered something completely unintelligible, followed by the loud wail, ¡°Fenn!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be an idiot!¡± Syrdin snapped, apparently understanding the speech. ¡°Drowned now, eaten later, what difference does it make? We won¡¯t know unless he and Mell show up. So stop crying. You¡¯ll attract the attention of predators.¡±


    Gale only melted more into her tears. ¡°He¡¯s gone and I¡¯m the only one who cares! Fenn!!¡±


    Krid¡¯s gut twisted. She thought her lover hurt or dead. Of course she was upset. ¡°Don¡¯t say so..¡± Krid stepped toward her, but hesitated, unsure how to comfort a she-elf. ¡°He¡¯s been a brother to me, and if he¡¯s dead, I¡¯ve failed my oath to him.¡± He held back fierce emotion as spoke, remaining firm.


    ¡°Then how can you move forward without him,¡± Gale whimpered, grasping at his arm. Her face leaked the sadness of the soft-skinned. He glanced to Syrdin for help and saw the whites of zheir eyes shift in an eye roll.


    Scowling zheir direction, he put a hand on Gale¡¯s shoulder and patted it. Drakewomen don¡¯t act this way. Fridana would¡¯ve hacked a tree or kicked the water and demanded a search. Perhaps we should make another round. But if Fenn and Mell are on the move, are odds are poor.


    A large pair of wings swooped into a high tree, followed by a twin pair, even larger than the first. The strange shoth with the pick-head had returned with a friend. ¡°Syrdin is right. Crying and pouting now puts us in more danger. We have to trust our friends to find us. For now, we should keep moving and avoid Ferngal¡¯s anger.¡±


    She gasped and pushed away. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°We can leave behind messages. Bits of fabric or paper for them to follow.¡± He pointed up into the waving palms at the two shoth. ¡°But we should avoid being attacked.¡±


    She flinched at the sight of the great shoths, but her eyes had lightened at the idea of leaving trail. Quickly, she ripped off a stringing rag from her skirt and tied it to a tree. ¡°Winds guide you back to me,¡± she whispered to it in Elvish. This phrase, Krid knew from an elven blessing Fenn had taught him.


    ¡°Come,¡± he beckoned, ¡°let¡¯s move.¡±


    Anxious thoughts still battered the fringes of Krid¡¯s mind, but he pushed them away. Fenn could be lost. Krid might have failed. But if he couldn¡¯t protect Fenn, the least he could do was protect his betrothed.