Ellanor and the Curse on the Nine-Tailed Fox

by K T Durham

  “Nero,” she whispered in Yahana. The black door slid open soundlessly, and a blast of cold air greeted her in the darkness.

  Elly saw that fire lamps had been lit the length of the long corridor, the shadows dancing on the walls beckoning her to go inside.

  The members of the Order were at the far end of the dark chamber waiting for her: Grandpapa, Mrs Silverwinkle, Mr Huerin, and Blaine the Vierran. All looked solemn except Mr Huerin, who grinned and waved.

  Elly and Aron bowed deeply to their elders. The shimmering portal, an enormous slab of Organoth blue amber, stood behind them. She glanced back at Aron, whose eyes widened at the sight of the portal; this was the first time he ever laid eyes on it. He caught her eye and grinned and mouthed: This is incredible. Then he took her hand and squeezed.

  Shortly after Elly had returned from Gaya a year ago, she learned about the Order of Kaizendil when she was told of the shocking truth about the Beast and the orbs of power that sustained the Tree of Alendria, and she was then asked to take up the mission in Gaya for which she needed grooming. Lots of grooming – and that required a team of specialists. The Order of Kaizendil was that team.

  “Wasn’t Kaizendil a king, Grandpapa?” she asked one night as she was settling into her hammock with a gaping yawn. Grandpapa had come for one of his nightly visits, and he was seated on a comfortable chair by her hammock. He nodded. “Back in the old days when the High Elves of the Royal Seal ruled Alendria, before we became a republic, Kaizendil was one of the mightiest kings of Alendria. He established the Order, a secret group charged to protect Alendria and its inhabitants at all costs. King Kaizendil acknowledged the Vierran as honourable allies, and he worked tirelessly to protect our homeland from the goblins, who were brewing for war deep in the underworld.”

  Now, in the dark chamber of the white dome, Blaine was the first to step forward. “Ellanor, you have trained hard, and all our work has not come to waste. You have grown, and you have gained much in skills and in strength.” To her surprise, Blaine held out both hands, presenting a curved dagger with a beautiful black handle, slipped in a golden sheath. She drew in a sharp breath. It was an incredible honour to receive gifts from the Vierran.

  It was at that moment that she realized Blaine really wasn’t her tormentor but her mentor, someone she could trust with her life. With trembling hands, she took the dagger and bowed, thanking the Vierran in Yahana. Then she buckled the sheathed dagger to her belt, concealed by her long velvet coat. It was a perfect fit, but then her smile wavered. Were they expecting her to encounter situations in which she might need to use such weaponry? She noticed Aron eyeing the dagger warily and knew that the same thoughts had crossed his mind.

  If only Aron knew the truth … He would definitely try to stop her from going altogether.

  The Vierran raised his eyebrows, amused. “Do not tax yourself with hypotheticals and thoughts of the future, Ellanor,” he said mildly. She blushed; Blaine was highly skilled in the arts of mind penetration, and he had obviously read her mind again.

  But despite his powers, the Beast had blocked off the Vierran’s attempts at penetrating the recesses of the underworld beneath the Tree of Alendria, where it resided with the goblins. A year ago, Blaine had transported Elly’s mind to the underworld, to where the Beast lay coiled in hibernation. The memory of those lidless, blood-red eyes sent a chill up her spine.

  Once, when she asked Blaine whether Gutz was still alive, he looked at her gravely. “I believe so. In my final attempt at looking into the underworld, I glimpsed Gutz being severely punished by the Beast.” He paused, and his golden eyes became dark. “What it was doing to torture Gutz … it is unspeakable. But I believe the Beast wanted me to see that. It has been shielding me from seeing into the underworld ever since.”

  Now she bowed to the Vierran again, one hand on her shiny new dagger. “Thank you, Sir Isendor. It is a great honour,” she said reverently. He nodded and stepped back.

  Then she turned to Mrs Silverwinkle. Larabeth Goldberry, her idol. Oh, how Elly wished Larabeth could accompany her to Gaya! It would be such an honour to explore the human realm with the most renowned female explorer in Alendria. But unlike Elly, Mrs Silverwinkle was not immune to contamination in Gaya. Besides, she had not fully recovered from the black poison inflicted upon her a year ago, when she had hastily touched one of the poisoned luthains after it was discovered they had been tampered with by Gutz.

  In the past year, Mrs Silverwinkle had been training Elly to master intra-realm teleporting. She struggled so much during the first few months that she was sure Mrs Silverwinkle was pulling her hair out whenever Elly wasn’t looking. “Intra-realm teleporting is not an exact science, as is all magic; it takes experience and much practice to master. Good magic requires honing of our instincts, my dear,” she had assured Elly, who had disintegrated into tears after hundreds of failed attempts. Once, instead of teleporting to the front gates of her home from the Blue Room, she ended up in the Shevanie River and nearly drowned!

  Now, as Elly stood before Mrs Silverwinkle, the older woman smiled and kissed the pale-faced girl on both cheeks and whispered, “We will track you through the earlingrand while you are in Gaya. Like last time, we have placed a secron on Greymore. It is our hope that all we have taught you will serve you well in Gaya. But I shan’t let you go without this.” Then she gently laid a golden compass in Elly’s hand, and she took in a sharp breath.

  It looked old, just like any compass at first glance, but as Elly peered closer, she gasped and saw that it wasn’t ordinary at all. The golden hand was pointing north, but there was a second silver hand pointing south, and upon the round face, two dots about two inches apart were blinking up at her, red and blue. It took a moment to comprehend: the compass was beckoning her to head to the human realm of Gaya, which was south of Alendria, a star that was unreachable by human technology. But what were those glowing dots? And when she looked harder, she could see that the compass was superimposed on a clock that seemed to materialize beneath the compass.

  Mrs Silverwinkle smiled and closed Elly’s fingers over the golden compass. “This is Nebulane, bequeathed to me by my great-grandmother, Melian Goldberry, when I was a young girl of your age, Elly. It has served me faithfully over the years. There are very few like Nebulane, for it was forged with powerful magic by the High Elves of the Dawning Age. Now, it belongs to you.”

  Elly stared down at the golden compass, open-mouthed. “Oh, oh … I don’t know what to say. I’m afraid I’m not worthy of such a precious family heirloom,” she murmured.

  Mrs Silverwinkle smiled. “Of course you are worthy, Elly.” Then she hesitated, as though about to say something. She shook her head. “Trust Nebulane at all times; it will serve as your guide and beacon. As you can see, it functions as a compass and a clock. Nebulane was designed to be incorruptible by dark magic, much like a Royan, and it never lies.” She gestured to the compass. “It receives signals from the Four Guardians of Gaya, as well as the governing authority of Alendria. In the old days of the monarchy, it was the ruling king or queen of the Royal Seal. Now, it is the High Council, specifically us, the Order of Kaizendil.” She pointed to the glowing dots. “The red dot signals your destination, and the blue dot signals your current position. When both dots merge and glow silver, that signals a temporary pit stop. When it glows gold, that means you have reached the final destination for that particular mission. Do you understand?”

  Elly nodded slowly, overwhelmed. “Thank you so much,” she said softly, deeply touched and humbled to be receiving such a priceless gift from Larabeth Goldberry. Nebulane must have served her favourite explorer on all her expeditions! Elly clutched the compass proudly to her chest. Then she scowled. “The exact location of the Guardian is still unknown?”

  Mrs Silverwinkle sighed ruefully. “The Guardians work in strange and mysterious ways, Elly. Presently, all we can ascertain is that this Guardian’s sign
al is coming from a region known as East Asia. If our estimations are correct, this should be Graille, the Guardian of Light. We’re counting on the Guardian to reveal their exact location once you’re in Gaya. We will then transmit that signal to Nebulane, if the Guardian doesn’t do it first.”

  Elly cocked her head, perplexed. “You mean the Guardian might communicate with me directly through Nebulane?” she asked incredulously.

  Grandpapa spoke up. “For many ages, the Guardians have been communicating with us through the earlingrands. But yes, it is entirely possible that the Guardian will communicate directly with you through Nebulane. But we do not know when the Guardian will make contact again.” Elly nodded with restraint. It bothered her that it had taken the Guardians so long to respond to their calls for help. Now that one Guardian has established contact, why was that Guardian being so evasive, so difficult to communicate with?

  But then the High Council of Alendria had chosen to cut off contact with Gaya over a hundred years ago in the first place. Now that Alendria needed their help, perhaps the Guardians of Gaya didn’t want to let them off the hook so easily …

  Next, Elly turned to Mr Huerin, who was dressed fully in white as usual. He had been a star archensoar player in his youth, and he had been training Elly in the arts of the ancient game.

  During the first few months of training, Elly threatened to give up amidst howls of anguish and frustration. She had never been as agile and fast as most elflings, and it was definitely showing. In the second month of training, Mr Huerin smacked her on her sore back cheerfully and declared, “Archensoar covers many of the skills required of a good warrior. I daresay you may prove to be a good match for the likes of Darrius after I’ve trained you for a year!” Then his face grew serious. “It is of utmost importance that you learn to defend yourself, Elly. This is why we are subjecting you to this intensive training. It’s brutal, I know. But since you have been entrusted with the task of restoring the luthains, many enemies may want to intervene. When that happens, you won’t be sorry that you went through all this. Trust me.”

  Now, he leaned over and gave her a hug. There had always been something endearingly familiar about him. “Remember what I told you,” he whispered into her ear. “You won’t be at all sorry you had to go through all that torture.” She smiled into his shoulder. Then she felt him reach behind her and place something on her quiver.

  “What is that?” she asked, surprised. She reached back, and her fingers touched something like a length of thin, coiled rope.

  Mr Huerin grinned. “I bequeath to you something that has served me well, Elly. This is a creature called a serpine, which looks and behaves like a rope. They are rarely found these days in the region of Aranon, for many were destroyed or stolen by the goblins during the War of Wrath. A serpine only complies with its master. This serpine will now serve you as its new master.” He winked. “Trust me, it will come useful to you along the way.”

  Elly beamed. A thinking rope! Only Mr Huerin would think of giving her something so peculiar. “Thank you,” she said happily, wishing he was coming with her …

  Last, she turned to Grandpapa. A lump formed in her throat as she looked up into his wise, wrinkled face. He had been imparting as much as she needed to know about Gaya, mostly regarding the various histories and cultures of the human realm. He bent down and pressed his lips against her forehead. “Goodbye, my dear granddaughter. Remember, whatever happens, no matter how bad things might seem, always turn to Freya for guidance. Nebulane will guide where your feet should go, but for directions regarding your mind and soul, you must consult Freya in prayer.” Then he slipped something into her hand.

  She stared. It was a necklace, at the end of which was something small, yellow, and tear-shaped, encased in a tiny glass vial. He smiled. “I grew this mustard seed in my garden. They are extremely hard to nurture, for they require just the right combination of elements. I only succeed in growing a mustard seed once every few decades. It will give you courage when you most need it.” Carefully, he lowered the necklace over her head, and her eyes stung with tears. She kissed him on his cheek.

  “Thank you. I love you, Grandpapa,” she whispered. She could sense him smile.

  “And I love you, my dear granddaughter. May Freya look after you.”

  Blaine cleared his throat, and in the darkness his golden eyes glowed. “Ellanor. It is time.”

  She bit her lip and looked at them, almost imploringly, appealing to them for one last time. Aron looked pale as he raised a hand in farewell.

  Must I go?

  “Courage and faith,” said Mrs Silverwinkle softly, squeezing her hand before releasing it.

  Elly realized that they would not be idle while she was in Gaya trying to get the orbs restored. She knew the Order, the High Council, and all the protectors and guards of Alendria were doing their parts in protecting their homeland. The Tree of Alendria was still standing, thanks to the channelling efforts of the High Council. It was her duty to do her part, too.

  But how she wished her role wasn’t quite so front-line. Why, oh why was she the only one who was immune to contamination in Gaya? There were countless others that were braver, stronger, smarter, and more experienced than her. Surely, she wasn’t the best choice.

  Elly took a deep breath and started walking towards the portal. With a disgruntled squeak, Marlow climbed down her arm and dove into one of the deep pockets of her coat. He couldn’t very well stay on her shoulder while she was being teleported to the human realm. Freya knows what might happen to him during the teleportation …

  To Elly’s surprise, arms encircled her in a fierce hug from behind. Aron’s voice whispered against her ear. “Come back in one piece. Remember what you promised me – you’ll become a famous explorer, and I’ll be the famous historian tagging along on your adventures. OK?”

  She offered up a soft chuckle, but tears were slipping down her cheeks now, and she wished she could tell him everything. Was he going to be taller the next time they met? How much would have changed by then?

  The full moon suddenly shone ever so brightly upon the portal, which gleamed silver at the edges, and she knew it was time.

  “Score a granduin for me,” she said softly, squeezing his hands. Then she untangled herself from her best friend, took a deep breath, and plunged into the slab of shimmering blue and yellow without looking back.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Rich Shoemaker and His Wife

  Her face was pressed up against musky-smelling wood, and it was dark and stuffy. Thankfully, she hadn’t crossed over into a broom cupboard this time. If she wasn’t incorrect, she should be stuck inside a wooden chest tucked underneath a tall bookshelf, where the Cobbles had safely stowed the portal the last time she’d left them. Marlow was squirming and squealing in her pocket. She put her hand reassuringly over him, and he fell silent. It was extremely disconcerting for a griffin-turned-hamster to be stuck inside someone’s coat.

  She sat up and quickly checked to see that the portal, being significantly smaller than the one in Alendria, was still in once piece. Sure enough, next to her the warm portal was glowing blue, with the Tree of Alendria etched onto the surface. She breathed a sigh of relief. Horace and Miriam had been keeping the portal safe, after all.

  This time, she had not turned to mush after teleporting. There was no dizziness or nausea, only mild disorientation. She smiled wryly. After all that gruelling training for the past year, her stamina for inter-realm teleporting had really built up. It hadn’t been a waste of effort. Now, she just had to get out of this stuffy wooden chest …

  Ellanor, do not worry. We will find a way out of here.

  I haven’t trained for nothing, Greymore. I’ve been through hell and learned enough enchantments to get out of small pickles like this.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated. If she recalled correctly, there should be a small latch on the wooden ch
est. “Onluche,” she commanded in Yahana. All elvish enchantments were spoken in the ancient language. There was an audible click, and she grinned. She wouldn’t have been able to do this so easily a year ago.

  She pushed upwards with one arm, and a sliver of light appeared. The wooden lid was quite heavy. With a soft grunt, she pushed harder, and this time the lid opened wide enough for her to climb out. She crawled out of the crack as she lifted the lid above her, and she swung out and jumped onto the soft floor, closing the lid carefully.

  Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. She was surprised to find that she wasn’t standing on old, scratched-up wooden floor as she had expected, but on new-smelling, plush carpet of an indeterminate colour. Had Horace and Miriam replaced the flooring? She sniffed. There were different smells in the house, mingled with the more familiar scents of leather and baking she remembered well.

  It was very cold. Thankfully, this time she was dressed right for the climate. She took Nebulane out from her pocket and was pleased to see that the blue and red dots had merged; now, a glowing silver dot blinked up at her as tiny Yahana runes rose from the surface: London, Adelaide Drive. 24/12. 02:08. Then the tiny runes vanished.

  She grinned. There sure was a huge difference between being well equipped for an expedition and being stranded in a foreign realm with nothing but a newly attained Royan.

  She flew into the kitchen and was taken aback to see that the old-fashioned wooden counters and linoleum floors were no longer there; instead, there were stainless-steel counters gleaming beneath modern-looking dark-brown cabinets. It was very quiet, except for the rustling of the trees outside. She imagined the Cobbles’ grouchy black cat, contrarily named Snowy, sleeping at the foot of the Cobbles’ bed all the way down the long corridor.