Elders of Eventyr

by Ellias Quinn

  Dask looked up at one statue’s fierce visage and elbowed Ansi. “Hey, there are statues of your sister everywhere.”

  “Don’t say out loud that she is my sister,” he spat. “I don’t care if no one can understand you. It is embarrassing.”

  At last Matil saw that the road ended in the distance at a grand stone hall. Its walls were old and overgrown with vines, bolstered by what appeared to be newly-crafted buttresses. Nearer to the group, down the road, grimy young men jeered at several children who were tied to a post.

  Matil grabbed Ansi’s arm with her bound hands. “Ansi, they tied up some children. They’re blindfolded, like you.”

  “Ah, Teres told me about the children,” he said. “Their magic is too strong, so they cannot be Vima. She says that they are separated from their families, put on display, and then exiled.” He frowned. “Likewise the Taina are not kind to children with weak magic.”

  Matil watched the children until they were out of view. When she faced forward, it took her a moment to understand what she saw ahead of her. From the point where the prisoners stood to the front of the great hall, a rowdy mob of Eletsol had gathered. They talked loudly to each other and some surged toward the building, only to be repelled by guards. An escort’s irritated grunt got Matil moving faster.

  “Are we approaching the palace?” Ansi said. “It sounds like something is happening.”

  Dask’s eyebrows were halfway up his forehead. “Um, yeah. Something’s happening.”

  “Teres is doing her part, then.”

  “Ansi Palikunika!” a nearby voice cried.

  Another voice yelled from the crowd. “Ansi Palikunika! Takkamakaini!”

  Ansi’s mouth fell open.

  “Takkamakaini!” The shouts continued. “Ansi Palikunika! Takkamakaini!”

  Many in the crowd turned around to see the prisoners, and the chants spread.

  “Takkamakaini!” Ansi shouted. Matil and Dask looked at him in alarm.

  The crowd was growing. The escort guards had difficulty pushing their way through, but the threat of their spears cleared a path. The air was hot and dusty, and raw throats spoke clamorously all around, hurting Matil’s ears. She tripped when they reached broad steps leading to a terrace along the front of the great hall; a man from the crowd caught her, nodded, and helped her up. It was heartening to know that they had allies in the rowdy throng, but she wondered whether they could resist trained warriors.

  At the top of the stairs and across the terrace, one of the large double doors was opened to let the guards and prisoners inside and was quickly closed. The sound dampened immediately. They stood in a foyer that continued into a long passage with wooden walls, closed doors, and a ceiling of woven plants strung with flowers. The escort guards led the prisoners straight down the passage. Khelya had to lower her head for the ceiling, but her face still brushed the flowers, resulting in a few explosive sneezes. Open windows along the passage looked out on lush courtyards filled with berry bushes.

  The group came to the end of the passage and entered a large room. A few paces in front of them, a low table stretched to the right and left down the length of the room. Several Eletsol sat on cushions around the table. They looked up at the prisoners walking in. Old murals decorated the walls, showing scenes of building and living, as well as hunting parties facing off against wildcats and weasels.

  “Busaino,” a woman said. The voice drew Matil’s attention toward the left end of the room, where this woman sat – comfortably, if her pillows were as fluffy as they looked – in a wide wooden throne. After the woman spoke, the Eletsol at the table grumbled to each other, stood with a flutter of wings, and walked out of the room. The escorts brought the prisoners before the throne. One of them untied Ansi’s blindfold.

  This was the same woman depicted in the statues outside: Dag. She resembled her sister even more in reality, though her hair was dark russet brown instead of blonde, and her wings had the appearance of fire lily petals, as flaming orange as the paint covering her arms and splashed across half her face.

  She wore an ample skirt of green leaves and a sleeveless vest of fine leather with fur around the collar. Her throne was encircled by upright spears, some with heads that were narrow and made of stone, others with barbed, metal tips, several decorated with flamboyant beads and carvings, and one spear entirely carved from rock. By her arm, a small table bore a bowl filled with chunks of berries and nuts.

  Dag smiled so that her eyes pressed into slits. “Veli.”

  Ansi stepped forward with a hostile look. “Tuko.”

  She gestured at the bowl beside her. He didn’t move. A hint of something unpleasant twisted her smile, and she asked a question.

  Ansi responded steadily. As he spoke, Dag’s smile evaporated into a resentful glare. She snapped back at him, grabbed a piece of walnut from the bowl, and shoved it past her lips. Before Ansi could say anything else, frenzied yells carried through the passage.

  Dag leapt to her feet and pulled a spear from the collection decorating her throne. At her strident call, more soldiers filed into the room. She led them marching down the passage. The escorts blindfolded Ansi again, pushed the other prisoners into line, and followed the soldiers. Dask jumped up to see what was happening in the front, earning himself a wallop from one of the escorts.

  At the far end of the passage, the door opened, and it sounded like the uproar outside was even louder than it had been earlier. Matil could hear the humming of countless wings. She stayed close by her friends as they passed through the open doors to the terrace.

  The whole city seemed to have gathered in front of the great hall. Half of the crowd hovered in the air, forming a shifting, colorful cloud of Eletsol. Dag stared out at them, her face coloring red and knuckles turning white against the spear shaft. While there were soldiers arrayed in defensive positions around her and the hall, other soldiers could be seen protesting within the crowd.

  Dag finally burst out with a screeching reprimand. The alva quieted to hear her, but with each word their faces grew wilder. Their renewed shouts arose to drown her voice. She raised her spear and stood as proudly as her statues. On her twitching face, however, was the beginning of desperation.

  Matil and Khelya scrambled back toward the wall. Dask dragged Ansi over. The escorts no longer guarded them, but now engaged in yelling, shaking their thick broadaxes and spears, and generally returning the threats of the crowd.

  Dask picked up a sharp stone fragment someone had thrown, used it to cut through the group’s bindings, and then tore away Ansi’s blindfold. “They were yelling your name earlier,” he said. “What do we do?”

  Ansi took in the scene, his eyes wide open. Dag’s guards thrust their spears into the crowd, felling Eletsol and tearing alva’s wings. Many in the crowd fought back, armed with the tools of their labor. At the back of the mob, swarms of Eletsol broke off and attacked the half-built dwellings, temples, and markets. They pulled the structures apart from top and from bottom. A tall hive of huts shuddered and shook before toppling with a mighty crash. Voices rose in panic.

  Ansi took a step backward. “Teres was supposed to—this is—”

  “If only the good guys would just calm down and plan,” Khelya said, her voice high with fear. “Or maybe there aren’t any good guys.” She looked around. “Ansi, can you stop this with magic?”

  “I could use these vines from the palace, but they are too large. I don’t have enough strength.” Ansi raised his hand, making the leaves on a vine rustle. “And there are no other magicians to lend their power. There must be something we can do…”

  Other magicians?

  Matil hopped up and down. “The children, the children!”

  “What?”

  She forced herself to stand still. “Can the children I saw earlier help you?”

  “Ah, the Taina children!” Ansi said. “Where are
they?”

  “On the side of the road as we came in.” Matil pointed.

  Ansi stared through the tangle of brawling alva that surrounded the palace.

  Dask nudged him. “Follow me.”

  “Be careful,” Matil said.

  He smiled and unfolded his wings. “You two watch out.” Straight upward he went, blasting air in his wake, followed closely by Ansi and his humming leaf-wings.

  Matil and Khelya pressed closer to the wall of the palace, away from the brutal scene. Khelya put her large fists up in a fighting position and Matil covered her ears to give them some relief from the onslaught of noise. To their shock, a thick-armed old man fell at Matil’s feet. His eyes were closed. A trickle of blood traversed his face from forehead to chin. Matil and Khelya jumped when he opened his eyes and struggled to his feet, clutching a stone hammer. He gawked at the two of them only briefly and then threw himself into the fray, crying, “Latuaaam!”

  After that Khelya began talking out loud to herself, or, as Matil listened, to Thosten. Matil didn’t fully understand prayers – did they help or not? – but sometimes she silently joined Khelya in reaching out for the mysterious Thosten. It was comforting to have a way to ask for help when alva were kicking in each other’s teeth just a few lengths away.

  Yet Matil couldn’t shake the wretched feeling that…she didn’t deserve anyone’s help.

  “Watch out!” came a shout from above.

  Matil and Khelya moved over to let Dask, Ansi, and eight Eletsol children land on the terrace. Ansi spoke kindly but hurriedly to the children, who gaped at the riot with pale, tear-stained faces. Though they seemed uncertain, they nodded as he took his place amidst them.

  He continued to talk in Eleti. One by one they turned from the riot to look up at him. He pointed toward the palace beside them and swept his hand through the air as though pulling at something. The children imitated his motion. They repeated it a few times, and then Ansi tensed his shoulders. He began the pulling motion in earnest. The children, now staring up at the plant-covered palace, moved their arms along with him. A tremor ran through vines as thick around as Khelya.

  Several vines parted from the palace walls and threaded through the rioters, slowly enough that those who were hit only reeled out of the way. The green tendrils began to lengthen. Tiny leaves sprang out along their lengths, quickly growing to full size.

  Ansi frowned deeply in concentration. The children’s little flower petal wings quivered, and some of the children were squeezing their eyes shut. After several strained moments, Ansi exhaled. The vines stopped moving.

  Dask prowled the terrace, watching to make sure no one got close to the magicians. As Matil cowered, she felt her mind shift. The din grew sharper and louder in her ears. The smell of dust and sweat filled her nostrils. Her hand went to her side, but there was no dagger.

  “Come on,” Khelya muttered. Her gaze flicked between Ansi, the children, and the motionless vines. “It ain’t over.” She rested a hand on Ansi’s shoulder. “It can work.”

  Ansi’s mouth settled into a determined line. He straightened up and moved his hands again, pulling at the air. If it didn’t work…Matil looked worriedly at the children. She and the others needed to keep the children safe, make an escape plan, and find Teres.

  But the remaining vines on the palace responded to his gestures with even more speed than before. They grew out across the square in front of the palace, curling around the first ones and forming a web. From the ground to the air, the swarming crowd outside of the terrace was impeded by overtaking vines. Soon, Matil couldn’t see far through the mass of alva and tendrils. She suddenly felt very small before such miraculous power.

  Twisted vines shielded the terrace, casting shade and protection over the facade of the building. The fighting came to a standstill as Eletsol looked about in confusion, searching for the source of the unexpected magic. A few yelled at Ansi and the children when they noticed them. Sweat rolled down Ansi’s neck. He gasped for air.

  Alva began to squeeze themselves out from between the vines and climb through the overgrowth. The soldiers gathered together, drawing back from the rioters to slip into the palace. The prisoners were left on the terrace facing the crowd. Dag was nowhere to be seen.

  Khelya recovered from her awe at the magical feat and took her hand off Ansi. “What now?”

  “Teres is here somewhere, right?” Dask said. “Let’s find her.”

  Ansi’s face took on a hard cast as he saw bloodied bodies lying still in front of the terrace. He thanked the exhausted children and rose into the air past the thick vines and shouting alva. “Eletsol! Eletsol!”

  Matil held back her impulse to reach out and stop him. The rioters didn’t look pleased, but at least they were quiet and focused on him.

  The impressive sternness departed from Ansi’s brow, and he began haltingly with a few words in Eleti.

  “Louder!” Dask said.

  Ansi glanced down at Dask before continuing his speech more loudly. Now he grew more animated. His voice trembled with both nerves and zeal. At length he fell silent, eyes darting anxiously around at his audience’s stormy faces.

  “Takkamakaini!” Teres’s voice rang out. Marred by scuffs and cuts, she flew in from the side to hover beside Ansi. She took a moment to catch her breath and share a hopeful glance with him before yelling a few words at the mob. Ansi’s expression changed to surprise when she grabbed his hand and lifted it over their heads. “Takkamakaini dekossa!” She poked him in the side with her free hand.

  “T-T-Takkamak-k-kaini!” he said. “Dekossa!”

  The words were returned by some of the Eletsol extricating themselves from the vines, quietly at first and then lifting in volume. As before, it became a loud chant.

  Khelya sat down heavily. Fatigue diluting her thoughts, Matil sat next to the Obrigi and leaned against her arm. Dask did the same, sprawling out at Khelya’s other side.

  A roof behind the buildings surrounding the palace was lit in a strange way. In moments, flames licked upward across the roof. Matil scrambled up in alarm. She found that she couldn’t take deep breaths anymore.

  “F-fire!” Matil shouted up to Ansi.

  Khelya and Dask saw the fire too and sat up straighter.

  Ansi looked across the city from where he and Teres were hovering. With a nod at Matil, he said, “We will contain it.” He turned and spoke with Teres.

  “Why would alva burn their own buildings down?” Khelya said.

  “Letting off steam, I guess,” Dask said. “Don’t you wanna break things sometimes?”

  “No!” She stretched up to see. “And especially not things I built myself. Ain’t right.”

  There was a rolling crash as the roof sank behind the other buildings. The ground rumbled with the impact.

  Khelya’s shoulders lifted. “Ooh…that’s what you get for treating buildings like dirt.”

  “Treating alva like dirt,” Dask said.

  “Right.”

  Matil wiped her forehead and sat back down beside them. “Alva and buildings.”

  Chapter 13

  Peace and Honor

  Ansi and Teres rallied the rioters at the palace, sending alva through the city to stop looters and find Dag and her loyalists. They found a few soldiers, but most had fled the city. It seemed that Dag was still a threat.

  Rebels supporting Ansi gathered in and around the palace. Matil and her friends helped however they could. The children who had lent their magic during the riot were brought into the palace to wait until their families could be found.

  Ansi, Teres, her brother, and several elders of the clan disappeared into the throne room to plan their next move. After eating a small meal, Matil, Khelya, and Dask were given beds of loudly-patterned pillows in a hall that had become an infirmary and bunk room. The three fell fast asleep.

  * * *


  Matil woke with the darkness. Her ears stirred as she picked up distant sounds of alva bustling around the palace. She stretched and felt just how wrinkled and grimy her tunic and trousers were. Maybe someone outside could tell her where to wash them.

  She left the restful infirmary without a sound and moved through the corridors of the palace, which became more populated the farther she went. The brawny Eletsol passersby didn’t see her at first, but when they did, they squished to one side of the hallway to keep some distance from her. Matil’s ears lowered a touch. She knew that without wings, she looked very small and odd indeed. A flash of Nychta entered her mind, leaning over and pointing the dagger, brown wings splayed and spiteful words on her lips.

  Matil shook the vision away and once more noted the Eletsol edging past her, slowing down to watch while leaving most of the walkway bare around her. She was causing a disturbance; she should go back to the infirmary and wait.

  “Ah! My friend.” Ansi pushed through his fellows, dodged their shoulders and elbows, and crossed the empty part of the hallway to stop next to Matil. He looked tired and his hair was a mess, but there was a new strength in his posture. “Where are the others?”

  “Asleep,” Matil said. “I got up to find somewhere I could wash my clothes. Is the meeting over?”

  He nodded. “It has just finished. I’ll find help for you.”

  They began down the hallway. The other Eletsol, seeing Ansi beside Matil, walked on and behaved as if they hadn’t been staring a moment ago.

  “The city is nearly at peace,” Ansi said as they walked. “Many of the Vima are free now. I – strange as it is – have been named chief of the old clan. The Takkamakaini.”