Elders of Eventyr

by Ellias Quinn

  “Sweet gherkin,” Khelya breathed. “A normal alva livin’ that long?”

  Mr. Korsen nodded. “Hasyl told me that the Elders granted him his many years, along with some small sight-beyond-sight, an ability he could share. But to share it dilutes its power, so he chose just one other to share it with at a time. Thus, there have been generations of Korsens who accepted this ability from Hasyl, and they have used it to watch over the borders of your realm. He chose us because, being outside the border, we can do little harm to Eventyr. This sight we have is a way to read an alva’s intentions, and I did use it on you. I hope you understand my caution.”

  “Understand? You mean that what I just felt,” Dask touched his ears, “was you doing things to my head? What are you, some kinda demon?”

  Ansi puffed up his chest. “I’ve nothing to hide,” he said to Mr. Korsen, “but we are all due certain respect. You must request permission before trespassing so closely.”

  The human passed a hand before his face. “You shame me, alva. I apologize for invading.”

  Matil looked at Mr. Korsen’s kind but piercing eyes and then darted away her gaze. “You saw…everything?”

  “Be assured,” he said. “I saw only a glimpse of the sum of your experiences. A being’s mind is private and complex. Magic cannot steal its secrets.” He paused. “Sorcery, the unnatural power, is a different story.”

  “Magic, sorcery, whatever,” Dask said.

  “Be respectful,” Khelya said under her breath.

  Mr. Korsen lowered his head farther to address Dask. “You are free to discard my words if you wish. Know that I can only speak to you or use the sight Hasyl gave me. Nothing of demonic origin will pass between us, because this border, Bo-Eventyr, abhors sorcery. It is formed entirely of Eventyr’s own magic.”

  Dask folded his arms again. “I’m listening.”

  “Sir,” Matil said, “what were you about to say earlier?”

  “Hmm…” Mr. Korsen rubbed his chin. “You spoke of the Saikyr? The Book of Myrkhar?”

  She met his eyes hopefully. “Yes.”

  “Then I must send you to Hasyl. He keeps the secret of the sleeping Elders.”

  “Sleeping?” Ansi said.

  “Sleeping!” Khelya burst out. She smirked at Ansi. “So they’re alive!”

  Mr. Korsen moved his shoulders slightly in a shrug. “I don’t know. Hasyl waits faithfully.”

  Ansi returned Khelya’s look with an imperious one of his own.

  “How long are alva gonna wait?” Dask said. “The Eletsol think they’re dead, and all you’ve got is a guy who says the Elders made him immortal.”

  “I’ve seen many things in my time that I didn’t believe, though they happened before my eyes. I have also believed what wasn’t true, and,” Mr. Korsen laughed, “I lost money that way. But I finally began to learn from my mistakes and from the stories of others. I sought words of wisdom and found that truth stands up to all scrutiny. Based on my experiences, then, and based on the records of my forefathers, I have come to believe what Hasyl says. Whether or not you believe, I ask you to meet him. This matter concerns all of Eventyr.”

  “I’ll go, sir!” Khelya said.

  “I’ll go,” Matil said. “Thank you.”

  Dask sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go, too.”

  Mr. Korsen bowed his head low. “Do you have a map?”

  Khelya held the map as close to the Wall as she could. Mr. Korsen pulled out a round glass that made his eye look even larger when he peered down through it at the map.

  “Hasyl resides close to Bo-Eventyr and just north of the Tynsen River.”

  “Here?” Khelya said, pointing at the map.

  “Farther south,” said Mr. Korsen. “There.”

  They didn’t have anything to write with, so Dask marked the spot with juice from a blade of grass.

  “Mr. Korsen,” Matil said. “What’s it like outside of Eventyr?”

  Mr. Korsen picked a leaf from a bush and rubbed it between his fingers. “We have a whole world, like yours. We have families and nations – and wars, just as you do. Magic is elusive outside of Eventyr. Many humans believe there’s no such thing.”

  “I guess they don’t have magic,” Khelya said. “They’d know it was real if they did.”

  He folded the leaf into quarters as he thought. “True. Unlike alva, we don’t have innate powers. Bending nature to your will is a part of you. Humans must fight nature. We are torn between disdain and longing for the thing you call magic.” He set down the bent leaf – which was nearly big enough for Matil to use as a tent – and leaned toward the alva. “Our world doesn’t even know that you exist, yet they tell their children about you in bedtales.”

  “That’s a laugh,” said Dask. He nodded up at Mr. Korsen. “You’re real. I can see that. Doesn’t mean you’re telling the truth. A bunch of humans swapping stories about alva? Show me, and then I’ll believe it.”

  “All I am to you,” Mr. Korsen said, “is an odd giant telling bedtales of his own. Is that right? Then let it be so. Once again, all I ask is that you find Hasyl.”

  Khelya smiled at him. “Well, I believe you. Why don’t more humans live around Eventyr?”

  “This place…it is protected. Bo-Eventyr’s clearest function is to separate our worlds. Some of my forefathers tried to bring others here, and one of two things always happened. Those others had an excuse not to come, or they visited and maybe even stayed for a time, but never felt at home. Sometimes the feeling settles over me, as well, that there is a strangeness in the air. That I live a dream and must wake up one day. That I must leave. But such times are few.”

  “Seems unlikely that humans would catch sight of us and just leave,” Dask said. “You’re too big to be scared of us.”

  “It is odd,” Mr. Korsen said. “However, those who looked did not see. Or so they said. I doubt if I would have had the eyes to see when I was younger and more obstinate.”

  Dask shook his head. “Humans must be blind.”

  “Says the alva who didn’t see Mr. Korsen last time,” Khelya whispered.

  He winced.

  Mr. Korsen looked around at the plants and trees. “The veil between our kinds may be for the best. Eventyr is protected from all but me, and I confess I do not mind the solitude.” He stood up with a great effort. Dirt clumps dropped from his pants as he brushed himself off. Matil noticed a spider scuttling up his pant leg. Compared to him, it was tiny.

  “I wish we didn’t have to go,” Khelya said. “Goodbye, sir.”

  Dask threw Mr. Korsen a casual salute. “It’s been fun.”

  “Thank you again,” Matil said.

  Ansi lifted his palms and bowed from the waist. “Farewell, Watcher.”

  “Goodbye, alva,” Mr. Korsen said with a small smile down at them. “Thosten fly with you.”

  * * *

  The group packed up camp and passed another boulder that marked the Wall. Mr. Korsen had already gone on his way. Matil turned to Ansi, who rode behind Dask on Olnar.

  “Are you coming with us?” she asked Ansi.

  He looked at her and then looked in the direction of the Wall with an overwhelmed glance. “Strange things are happening, and for the sake of my alva I would learn the truth. But I can’t leave them when they are in need. I’ll offer myself again as a guide, this time to one of the clan courts that I spoke of.”

  “Is it on the way?” Dask said.

  “Not entirely. It’s a wealthy clan though, with strong ties to my family. I’ll ask them to provide you supplies and an escort to the hermit’s home.”

  Dask tapped Matil’s arm. “Might delay us, but it beats bumbling our own way through the wilderness like before. I say we do it.”

  “Agreed,” Matil said.

  “I’m glad to travel with you farther,” Ansi said. “You
are better company than the Maati. And appearing at court with alva at my side will make me look more powerful. As soon as we arrive, I will work to get you the best treatment.”

  Khelya cleared her throat. “That’s, uh…that’s good of you.”

  * * *

  The group rode southeast for the next two days. As the sun moved lower at the end of the second day, the colors of the forest blended into orange and red and then dimmed at twilight.

  Dask’s ears twitched. “I hear voices. Let’s head away from them.” He gestured to their right and urged Olnar in that direction.

  Everyone went silently after him. Matil heard the hum of wings, which could have been some insects moving lazily through the air. After Dask’s words, though, she worried they might be Eletsol. She didn’t want to meet any more.

  “You hear them, right?” Dask was frowning.

  She nodded.

  “We’re in little danger,” Ansi said. “This territory belongs to a clan that knows me. They are neutral in the Taina and Vima conflict.”

  The sounds came closer. Nearby ferns and bushes rustled.

  Several beefy Eletsol painted in orange stripes rushed out of the forest to surround the group. They held spears with sharp stone heads and red beads tied up and down the shafts.

  Ansi’s body tensed. “Vima.”

  “Taina!” bellowed the one hovering above them.

  Ansi jumped off of Olnar and dropped to the ground, where he scrubbed with dirt at the white paint on his face. Then he clambered back up, soil and flecks of paint on his cheeks, and covered his eyes with his palms. “Taina alat! Taina alat!” To Matil, Khelya, and Dask, he said, “If we fly, they will kill us! Cover your eyes like this and we should be safe.”

  Khelya and Dask hesitated briefly before putting their hands across their eyes. Matil waited as long as possible, but, intimidated by the advancing Vima, followed Ansi’s example. She left a space below her hands so that Dewdrop’s saddle was visible, and her ears swiveled, trying to catch and identify every sound. She nearly bolted when someone yanked her dagger from its sheath and further searched her for weapons. At last he grabbed her wrists, pulled them down from her face, and bound them behind her in scratchy fibers.

  Now that she could see, she watched the others being restrained. One of the Vima tied a strip of cloth tightly around Ansi’s eyes. Khelya pouted at the jagged spears as one of the Vima hovered behind her, binding her wrists, and others connected her ankles with a rope to shorten her steps. Before long, they finished and shoved everyone forward. The group of warriors strolled easily, laughed loudly, and pushed one another this way and that. As a stocky Vima crashed into Dewdrop, the beetle stumbled. Matil clung to the saddle and tried to calm her.

  “I thought you’d know where your enemies are,” Dask said to Ansi. “You’re supposed to be smart!”

  “I am smart!” Ansi said. “This is the territory of a smaller clan. These Vima scouts should not be here.” He puckered his lips in thought. “What are they planning?”

  “They’ve blindfolded you, but not us,” Matil said. “Why?”

  “Ah. Certain types of magic are very, very difficult to use without sight. Most Eletsol magicians are powerless when blindfolded.”

  Dask raised his ears. “Most…but not you?”

  “No,” Ansi said. “I am powerless, too.”

  “Great, great,” said Dask. “Wonderful.”

  Ansi turned his head toward Dask. “Your voice is disrespectful. Must I remind you that I am the son of a chief?”

  “Hey, chief guy,” Dask said.

  “Chief’s son,” Ansi said firmly.

  “You’re tied up and blindfolded. In your own words, powerless. You think I care about respecting you when I can’t even respect myself right now?” Dask shook his head in disgust, and then noticed Matil’s worried expression. He forced a small smile onto his face. “Let’s never get caught again, okay?” he said to her. “If there’s another time after this one…if we get that far, let’s keep ourselves free. All right?”

  She nodded faintly. “Good idea.”

  Chapter 10

  Strong in Arm

  Daylight had gone completely by the time they came across more Vima. These Eletsol seemed thinner and quieter than the warriors who had captured Matil and her friends. They stared and bowed their heads as the warriors went past. The warriors stopped and shouted at the base of a small tree flanked by thick bushes. Matil realized that a gate made of bark was disguised in the tree’s trunk. The gatekeeper wasted no time in pulling the gate open.

  A smooth tunnel cut straight through the trunk, leading into a humble, cloistered village. Once inside, Matil could see a wall surrounded the village, a sturdy but flowing structure made out of woven plants that were still green and alive. The plants abounded with five-pointed leaves and purple flowers, but in a few places brown sticks revealed themselves as the framework on which the plants grew. The round wall curved farther inward the higher it went, leaving an opening at the top that was roughly half the size of its base. The village felt enclosed yet still open to the air. Dome-shaped huts covered in bright cloths clustered against the wall, built upon each other in staggered piles about four huts tall. To the right, beside the entrance tunnel, was a squat stone watchtower. Moths flitted in circles over the torchlit town.

  Almost as soon as the warriors entered, the noise of the village quieted to murmurs. The villagers going about their evening business moved well out of the way of the group, keeping their heads low. Matil watched sadly as the beetles were led away, deeper into the village. A young boy flew down from one hut carrying a tray and timidly offered bowls of diced nuts and berries to the warriors. The group stopped to gather around the tray. Each man grabbed a bowl, downed its contents, and tossed it to the ground. The boy gathered up the fallen bowls and dodged the other ones being thrown, while the tallest warrior barked orders at him.

  “Kal, ferra,” the boy kept repeating, until he had gathered all of the bowls and sped back to the hut.

  The tallest warrior then pointed at some of his men, who took the prisoners from the group and toward a low, gray structure in the dusty village square. The structure was rectangular, built with heavy stone blocks that left small square openings all over the walls. One of the warriors unlocked its metal door and then went inside to shake a bony Eletsol on the cell’s floor. The Eletsol didn’t move. He was taken out of the cell and left on the ground, where frightened-looking villagers carried him away. Matil, Khelya, and Dask shared uneasy glances.

  Brandishing curved stone daggers, the warriors grabbed the four of them. Khelya was forced into the cell and she bumped her head on the doorway with a loud yell. After the warriors pushed Dask forward, he walked in on his own. Matil hurried in after him. Blindfolded Ansi was shoved even more roughly and stumbled across the threshold. A warrior tore the bindings from Matil’s hands and left the cell. The metal door grated against the stone as it closed.

  It was dark inside the cell, but the openings in the walls provided vision of the outside. The floor was also stone, padded with dry grass and set slightly below the ground. Matil started untying Ansi’s hands. After she freed him and Dask, she went to Khelya, who had sat down in the corner to nurse her head, and started with the ropes binding her feet.

  Dask rubbed his wrists. “Food, blankets, weapons, mounts. They took everything this time. Got any Eletsol tricks you can use?”

  Ansi untied his blindfold. Right away he searched the cell, felt the grass on the floor, and looked through the holes. He finally sat cross-legged on the ground in a huff. “I can do nothing with rock and dead grass.”

  The creaky cell door opened. The same boy from earlier threw their blankets inside and followed them up with a large tray shoved along on the floor. Matil saw the guards standing outside, spears at the ready, and then the door closed.

  Ansi’s eyes were
large as he stared at the tray, which was loaded down with greasy strips of meat, several leaf scraps, and a jar of water. “So much meat,” he said. “They may be snake-food cuts, but…koi-kirra-dal. This is a lot of meat. I eat leaves and berries, as the Maati do. They said that meat was for peasants, so my sister always grew angry if she saw me eating it.” He bent down to smell the steam rising from the tray. “Rabbit. They must have just now cut it as it roasted.”

  The savory aroma spread around the cell, and Matil’s stomach responded with a growl. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, then.”

  Everyone scooted over to the tray and used the leaf scraps to pick up roast rabbit for themselves. While they chewed through the tough meat they talked about their new situation.

  “What’ll they do to us?” Khelya said.

  “Only the ancestors can tell,” he said. “The Vima are not as bad as the Salkai, but they are merciless.”

  “Salkai?” Dask said. “What do they—”

  “Decorate their encampments with the heads and wings of all intruders.” Ansi sighed. “Let’s keep our expectations low.”

  * * *

  The next day, Matil and her companions watched the village through the openings in the walls. The strong warriors were nowhere to be found, and now a lanky boy with a crude spear stood watch near their cell. Eventually Matil turned around and slumped against the wall. Ansi sat sideways by the adjacent wall, still observing the Vima villagers going about their day. Khelya was closely studying the construction of the cell and working out equations by arranging bits of grass on the floor. Matil opened her mouth to ask about them when Dask, sitting across from her, spoke up quietly.

  “I’ve got a plan,” he said.

  Matil looked at him, but Ansi didn’t seem to notice.

  “Ahem.” Dask used his foot to poke Ansi in the leg. “Plan.”