In A Time Of Darkness
Page 55
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“Any advice?” Elryia asked, waiting for permission from the council to enter the inner chamber.
“Be yourself,” Lanyan whispered as they walked through the doors, the rest of the group following closely behind.
The chamber was simpler than Elryia had imagined. Purple tapestries hung on the back wall near the corners, the elven symbol—a simple outline of Layanese, bordered by a three-lined woven circle—etched in gold outlay upon them. In front burned cauldrons similar to those outside and between them, sat the Uesada Nu Couilnra—The Council of Spirit; five seats in total on an elevated platform, two feet above the rest of the room.
On El’s far right sat a young, delicate Elven woman, bright purple eyes, and raven black hair. Next to her sat a middle-aged male, his golden hair decorated with gray, lines wearing around the corners of his eyes. On the far left sat another male, this one far younger and more energetic looking; his brown hair tied tightly against the back of his head and vibrant red robes covering his body. To his left an elderly woman, looking much like the other female though her eyes a soft brown that seemed far more worldly. In the middle, sitting raised above the others was the leader of the elves: Rasonius. Gray hair, long and thick draped over the golden tunic covering his chest and shoulders. His eyes silver as well, though they seemed the most knowledgeable. Above them curving eyebrows—the inner half white, outer black.
Lanyan was the first to the platform where he knelt, hoping the others would follow. Since he had not gotten the opportunity to tell them earlier, informing them now would be uncouth. Elryia watched then knelt accordingly One by one the other companions behind her took a knee.
“Rise,” Rasonius spoke. As they stood he turned his gaze to the middle of the group, “You are Elryia Mezian.” She nodded softly. “Lanyan has told me of your plight, and your quest.” El swallowed hard, turning her eyes along the council, the woman on the far right wearing a gentle smile, her bright eyes locked on Lanyan. She almost broke eye contact to see if he was staring back but Rasonius drew her attention. “And it has come to my attention that you seek our help, as well as the dwarves’ in this matter.” Again, Elryia remained polite and only nodded as he leaned forward, his white eyebrows turning down, and his strong face like stone. “It is only because of my respected opinion of Lanyan that I am even entertaining such an idea. Before you entered, my mind was made up, for the most part. However, I am giving you the opportunity to change it. Tell me why I should.”
Elryia sighed and cleared her throat. As hard as she had tried on the way here to come up with an answer, she could not. Elryia knew why they were doing this: Carsis, Merial, and even Gort all sought freedom—a better life. But that was no help here. The Elves’ lives were not affected. Such could be seen walking into their inner sanctum. Elryia knew why she needed to risk her life, but she knew not how to convince a race—which was safe—to risk theirs. She struggled with the words, even the thoughts. As she did in the forest when she lost her way, her eyes closed and she envisioned the one person that brought her confidence. The one person that made her believe in herself: Grahamas. She could feel him, as though he was close, perhaps even right there with them, and a deep breath crept into her lungs. “For freedom,” she said, slowly opening and casting her gaze on the Elven leader. Grahamas had always told her that. When she first started this journey with him, when she was learning everything about him that she could, he had told her of the perils he endured for Highlace and even after. Every time she asked why he would place himself in such situations, that was his answer: For freedom.
Rasonius scoffed and almost laughed as he sat back, “We have freedom.”
Elryia eyes grew sharp, “How truly free is a prisoner who’s allowed to do what he chooses?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean no disrespect,” she spoke soft but precisely. “You are free, yes. Inside your own walls. Outside of them you are hunted, manipulated, and kidnapped. Outside is a world you can no longer be a part of,” she looked back at Gort and then Lanyan. “And you’ve lost touch with it. I travel every day with two members of very different races; races that once lived together and helped each other. Yet those two knew nothing of the other’s kind before they met, because they live in separate worlds. They’re forced to. They’ve grown distant because their safety and very lives demand that they live in secluded, protected areas—away from the rest of the world. So I ask you, Lord: How free are your people? I am not asking you to supply weapons for us, I am asking to supply them for you. I am not asking for soldiers to satisfy our needs, I am trying to inspire you to help take back what once belonged to the world. Freedom. Everywhere. So you no longer have to hide, no longer need to protect yourselves by such drastic measures. I’m asking you to fight for your people as well as mine. Fight so they can live their lives—in peace.”
The King, wearing a look of mixed confusion and outrage went to speak but quieted when the woman to his left moved. Raising her hand to cover her mouth, she whispered in his ear. Long moments passed and the Elven King nodded, several times. “Understood,” he said and then looked towards the group. “I would ask that you allow us to reconvene so that I may discuss with the rest of my council what my wife has asked me to consider.”
Elryia nodded and Rasonius motioned towards the exit. “If you would please wait outside.” The King turned to his far left side, “Anstros, if you would close the chamber doors please.” The young elf leapt up and followed the group to the exit. As they walked outside, Anstros leaned forward and gripped both rings, pulling the doors closed with a bow of his head and a smile.
Once they settled Lanyan bore a somewhat excited look, “That went better than I had hoped. I imagined he would have simply said no.”
“Aye,” Elryia replied, “I did as well.” Seeing as it may take time, El turned the conversation, “So… Who’s the girl?” She giggled, her eyes sparkling as she looked at him.
For the first time since meeting him—in over a year—she saw Lanyan blush, “The one on the end?”
“The one who looked at you like I look at Graham.”
He cleared his throat, still uncomfortable, “That is Starrlana, Rasonius and Kemseya’s daughter. We grew up together.”
Elryia looked skeptical, “And…?”
Lanyan looked back towards the now-closed doors, embarrassed, “And she waits patiently for me to return.”
Elryia grinned gently but read the look on his face so she didn’t push it, “What of us then?”
“I imagine we wait as well.”