In summer and winter, in spring and autumn, the High House attracted thousands of wanderers seeking beauty, fine wine, and festivities. The tall, distant crowns of the trees hid them from the midday heat, and in the evening, they moved to open up the view of the starry sky. In the shadow and the light of Irmaril, under the snow and the caress of summer, the High House remained one of the most amazing places on the continent of Mormanon.
A man was walking across the grass carpet of the Crystal Forest. Even by the standards of this odd, mystical land, he looked odd in his tattered clothes. Even more striking was the chipped staff he was leaning on. Tapping with it in front of himself, he trudged wearily. One look in his odd-colored eyes was enough to notice that he was exhausted.
He thought that a week had passed his disappearance, but when he finally managed to free himself from Hu-Chin’s clutches, he realized that he had been kept captive for almost three months. He collapsed from exhaustion, only to find himself lying somewhere in a forest, under the sun of the first spring. He didn’t know how he got there or what day it was. The last thing he remembered was absorbing the dragon’s essence.
As he walked, not knowing where his feet were taking him, spirits whispered around him. It was the first time they had seen a mortal who could hear and speak to them, even if he didn’t know about it. The sleeping fairies woke up, intrigued by their “relative.” The spirits of flowers and leaves, which weren’t allowed access into the Feyre although they were called fairies and fae, hurried over. They raced along the paths known only to them, until they finally appeared before the radiant eyes of the King of Princes, the ruler of the Crystal Forest.
He listened to their jumbled up stories and ordered the Leaf Guard to bring this stranger to his palace so he could see what had disturbed the little spirits.
Meanwhile, while the strongest warriors of the High House were flying through the trees, Ash was losing consciousness. There was so little strength left in him that even breathing seemed like an effort. After the clear air of the Eastern Reach, the heaviness of the forest’s atmosphere seemed almost choking. Unable to take it anymore, Ash fell face-first into the grass.
A pair of strong hands caught him cautiously before he collapsed, but he felt nothing anymore. After who knew how long, he finally fell into a blissful, dreamless slumber.
A dream later
Ash came to on the threshold of a magnificent creation of clearly divine power. A gigantic tree towered above him. It spread its branches over the lake, which in its purity looked like a bowl of tears. The mage didn’t doubt that it was miles deep even though it seemed that its bottom could be touched by hand. As for the tree itself, an entire chapter wouldn’t be enough to describe it.
Hundreds of balconies and houses, as if grown and molded by the giant itself, shone with a gentle, yellow light at this twilight hour. Ash closed his eyes and heard a distant, melodious buzzing — the Crystal Forest wasn’t lit by fire, but by a host of magical fireflies.
Numerous wooden columns, shaped like dryads frozen in a dance, spiraled away from the base toward the distant crown that looked more like a green sky. The leaves were clouds, and the light that shone through the small gaps were distant, misty stars.
A small group, with Ash in the center, was moving toward the arch, big enough to fit four Mystrian cathedrals under it. The mage couldn’t contain a sigh of surprise and admiration, which made the elves who accompanied his smile.
Ash closed his eyes for a moment as the party walked under the arch. Everything around sparkled with jasper and amber, which you’d not find even in Garangan’s treasury. Inside the tree were houses, temples, spires, shops, and streets connected with bridges. And how many channels and forfeits there were! Can you imagine — canals and fountains inside a tree?
The tree was bursting with life — thousands upon thousands of elves gathered to celebrate the first day of Spring. Among the crowd, Ash could distinguish various faces, from loud-mouthed dwarves to the withdrawn orcs. And they all hurried along the bridges and passages that led somewhere up, where, if you looked closely, you could see the most beautiful palace.
The elves led the mage through a series of passageways, through a network of shops and houses. And everywhere Ash went, he saw smiles, and heard laughter and songs. God and Spirits, what songs they were… By a lucky chance, I once heard a song from the Crystal Forest. Once you heard these ballads, your heart would ache or dance, depending on the tune, for years to come.
The mage paused, closed his eyes, and tried to turn into a stone, so that he could absorb every note, remember every echo and chime. The elves who accompanied him stood nearby and also froze, listening to the enchanting tune of the strings. There was nothing magical about them, nothing surprising, and nothing that’d make a human bard a legend, but there was still something elusively mesmerizing about them.
As he climbed higher and higher, Ash saw the most wonderful images his eyes had ever seen. A lady of such extraordinary beauty that Ash was so embarrassed by her gaze that he was ready to jump off the bridge so that he wouldn’t be in her way. The sculptures and statues looked so alive that he expected them to jump off their pedestals and begin to dance. There were no steps in the legendary dance of life of the capital of the elven kingdom, but everyone still called it a dance.
Standing on the threshold of the most beautiful palace he had ever seen in his life, Ash looked behind him with a slight longing. He lost all interest in the residence of the elven king’s abode. He adored everything beautiful, and what could be more beautiful than a festival on the streets of the Crystal Forest? Not to mention that Ash had never seen elves, dwarves, trolls, or even orcs. He was so impressed by the color of their skin, their language, and clothing that he wanted to spend as much time as possible among them.
“Come in,” whispered one of the elves, whose beauty would’ve been heard about even on the outskirts of the Thirteen Kingdoms. “The king is waiting.”
Ash nodded, but didn’t move.
“It won’t take you long,” she continued. Her green armor made of leaves was so strong that other steel gave way before it. “Besides, I assure you, the festival in the palace is just as merry as the one on the street.”
The mage turned to the other guard, glanced at the coat of arms in the form of a winged deer, and asked with childish naivety:
“Really?”
“Of course.”
Ash cast one last look at the street behind him and took a step forward. The doors, decorated with elaborate carvings, closed noiselessly behind him. Inside, the palace resembled any that he had ever seen. There were no guards, no big or large halls, no hallways, vaults, libraries, rooms, guardhouses, or anything like that.
The entire complex seemed like it consisted of only one huge room, divided into different sections by almost transparent curtains made of leaves. The guards led Ash through the crowd of courtiers, who looked at him with interest, as if they didn’t notice the rags he was dressed in. They, beautiful, rich, proud, and so far away, looked at him not like he was a freak, dragged in by their ruler’s whim, but like he was... Like he was from a fairy tale! That was right. If everything around him was a fairy tale for the young mage, then, ironically, he himself became a fairy tale for others.
Elves, dwarves, orcs, trolls, humans, and even dark elves invited to the Spring Festival observed the mage mentioned in many a ballad make his way to the throne. In Ash they saw not a general, a criminal, a monk, a dragon slayer, but a true mage, albeit young and naive.
The children reach out to him with their little arms. He understood that they wished to receive a gift from him, but he had nothing to give but his shirt, pants, and sandals made of wood and hemp rope.
Stealthily, he plucked a couple of pieces of amber from the wall behind him, and turned them into little birds. The children enjoyed them more than they would’ve enjoyed any material trinket. He then tore off a couple of leaves from a nearby curtain and made them shine brighter than Myristal hersel
f. And there was no greater happiness for the little ones than to admire the silver light of the magic leaves.
And despite the fact that he was defiling the palace with his own hands by stealing bits of it, the guards only smiled at the mage’s little tricks. As did everyone else.
“Hello,” someone greeted him.
Ash almost stumbled. This “someone” had bark for hair and skin. It had sprouted mushrooms, on which sleeping butterflies were now resting. Instead of a beard, they had a waterfall of thick, green moss, and their eyes were as clear as the lake that had previously attracted Ash’s attention.
“Hello,” he whispered back, perplexed.
The person smiled. Ash could’ve sworn that they had acorns for teeth.
“What brings you to our humble home?” they asked.
“I... have no idea,” the mage replied in bewilderment, observing the guests. “I think that the king wanted to see me.”
“Is that so?” they asked in surprise.
“I’m as surprised as you were,” Ash said, still whispering. “Why would he want to see me?”
The person nodded, their head and hair creaking.
“Could it be that it’s because you’re the only one among humans who can talk to the little spirits?”
“I can talk to fairies?”
“They say that you can.”
“Then tell the king that I’m sorry but I need to leave immediately!”
Ash was about to make a mad dash for the exit, eager to get to know the flower fairies better, but was stopped by a burst of merry laughter. Everyone around him was smiling, and some even pointed and slapped their knees. And although he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Ash was smart enough to put two and two together.
Turning around, he bowed low to the elven king. The man put his arm around the mage’s shoulders and straightened him up, as if he weren’t a man, but a limp twig.
“It’s not customary to bow,” he said warmly. “You’re our guest, Master of a Thousand Words. Taste our wines and our fine food, and dance until you can dance no more!”
The guests clapped, but the applause faded away very soon.
With the rustling of her green dress, the elven princess stepped into the hall. She held herself with pride and walked with confidence, but there was no trace of arrogance in her step. Her gaze and smile were warm and kind, but they were far from naive. The silkiness of her hair and radiance of her skin made her more beautiful than any jewelry ever could. Perfect in every form, Ash couldn’t help but admire her. After all, let’s not forget, the mage adored everything beautiful.
Stopping by the throne, she made a curtsey. Her movements were so smooth and elegant that they were almost hypnotizing.
“My dear,” the king whispered, touching her cheek with his lips.
Looking at them, Ash felt like he’d give his life to spend a day in the old man’s shoes. Racker had once offered to introduce him to the “finest joys of life” but Ash refused, saying that the final battle was more important than anything he had to show him. During his stay in the monastery and with Hu Chin, he had no time to think about women, so it was no wonder that was surprised by the sudden blush that overcame him.
“And you are...?”
“Ash,” he replied, red-faced.
“Just Ash?” By the Gods and Spirits, it was for the sake of such smiles that heroes went into battle.
“Just Ash,” he said, almost stuttering.
What happened after that, he remembered vaguely. The king opened the feast, and the hall was drowned in joy and laughter. Tables sprouted from the floor, where the fairies brought a variety of dishes. Despite the fact that the elves were known as vegetarians, they provided hundreds of meat dishes for their guests. The wine, so light that it looked more like juice, was as fragrant as mead. Ash was seated at one of the tables, and the princess sat nearby.
She conversed with him and laughed, and he didn’t dare open his mouth. He listened to music and voices, enjoying the lady’s company. And then the music started.
“Just Ash,” the princess said faintly, “do you dance?”
Never before had the mage been so sorry that he had skipped court dance lessons, preferring to read legends in the gazebo at the edge of the garden.
“No,” he almost cried.
“Follow me,” the lady said, pulling him away from the table.
“But I can’t!” he protested. Stronger than his desire to hold the beautiful lady to him was the fear of embarrassing himself in front of her.
Despite the fact that Ash wasn’t all that tall, the princess had to stand on tiptoe to reach his ear.
“No one can dance, but everyone does,” she whispered.
In the end, the mage allowed himself to be dragged to the dance floor. In five minutes and one stepped on toe later, Ash could teach the most refined courtiers how to dance. After all, when he wanted to, Ash could learn anything.
One dance later
They were standing on the balcony. Ash felt as if he were perched on a ship’s mast, staring out at the endless sea. The crowns of the forest closed in, protecting them from the cold and leaving only coolness, but from this height, they looked like a serene, sleeping sea. The lady went on with her story. Ash had said no more than ten words all evening, but she spoke more than enough for both of them.
She was telling Ash about some mysterious land where giants lived. And about those where dragons guarded the towers, where evil magicians have imprisoned the real fairies — charming sorceresses, if the legends were to be believed, who could fulfill three wishes. Thousands of other lands and dales were featured in the stories of the elven princess. In them, lamias danced with the wind, satyrs chased dryads, griffins soared freely with the eagles, basilisks waited for unwary travelers, and ogres knocked on the gates of castles with their huge clubs.
She spoke of people who lived on the tip of a pine needle stored here in the Crystal Forest. She talked about the sylphs, the cloud fairies, distant relatives of the flower fairies. She even showed him a drawing of their cloud city. She also told him about the nagas who built palaces under the Seven Seas.
Ash listened to these stories and couldn’t believe that something so curious and interesting had been under his very nose all this time.
“My Lady.”
“Yes?”
“Why is this tree called the Crystal Forest?”
She stared at Ash’s face for a moment, then grabbed his arm, and pulled him away. The pair passed through several secret passages until they found themselves in a grove. Ash stared at the tall trees and still struggled to understand how such a beautiful place could deserve such a name.
“You're lucky,” the princess whispered. “Today’s the day.”
A moment later, the full moon appeared in the sky. Her light mingled with Myristal’s, and a white beam shot through a hundred round windows. It was reflected in a thousand mirrors, and made Ash’s breath become caught in his throat. The trees, shrouded in the glow, became more and more transparent until they turned into crystal sculptures. The grass under his feet swayed and crumpled, as grass should, but at the same time it, too, became crystal-like.
Transparent leaves lay on the palm of his hand, but didn’t leave cuts. The birds that fluttered among the crystal crowns also seemed, or perhaps were, glass.
The princess laughed and picked up an old staff, even older than the one Ash held, and slammed it against the nearest tree trunk. If a moment ago, the mage had seen the ancestor of all forests, now he heard the ancestor of all sounds.
The tune bouncing off the crystal trunks was so clear and so beautiful that Ash was hypnotized by it from the first note and echo. Birds sang in the sky, leaves caressed the weather-beaten skin, and then the soft hands of the beautiful elven princes touched his tense shoulders.
If Ash knew what a proper kiss was, he would’ve returned it to her, but he didn’t know, so she had to show it to him first and then explain.
What happened next does
n’t fit the fairy-tale atmosphere of the Crystal Forest, so we won’t talk about it. But rest assured, the scratches left on the mage’s back weren’t caused by any bird or animal.
***
“Get up! You need to go!”
It was with these words that the princess awoke the sleepy Ash. The air was once again filled with the silent rustling of the green leaves, as if hinting that what had happened under the night sky had only been a drunken dream. However, his itchy back and tingly loins suggested otherwise.
“Why?” he mumbled.
“My father!”
“Wha?”
“My father!”
Ash opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. Right in front of him stood the very angry king of elves. Green sparks flickered in his beard, and the once-slumbering butterflies were now flocking around his head like a pack of angry vultures. Behind him were the guardsmen, their curved blades drawn and their heavy bows drawn until they creaked.
“You!” the king roared.
“Well, this is a surprise...” Ash smiled and said two Words. The first summoned his cloak and staff, and the second made a thick fog envelop everything. The green lightning that struck from the king’s bottomless eyes only singed the young man’s hair.
“My lady, you are beautiful.” Ash pressed his lips to the princess’s forehead and rushed to the window.
Arrows whistled behind him, and he leaped from a height of several feet without hesitation. The cloak gently wrapped itself around him and the wind caught him, gently lowering him to the ground. Unfortunately, more guards awaited him there.
Ash never ran as fast as he did then. He raced through the grove like a mad hare. Arrows whizzed past, sinking into the trees up to their plumes. The mage had only the Gods to thank that the famous elven archers were too blinded by rage to aim. Otherwise, he’d be tortured to the point that his funeral wouldn’t need a closed casket but a locked one. Actually, he’d probably be buried in a box of matches. However, no matter how fast he ran, he couldn’t compete with the elves. And at the moment when they were just about to catch up with him, someone came to his aid.
Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story Page 38