Venom and Song

by Wayne Thomas Batson

Kat looked up to Anna with grateful, glistening eyes, but she couldn’t find words. Then to Tommy. Did she hear me just then? He blushed.

  In that moment, the young lords’ attention was drawn to the center of the great room. A tall Elf wearing a long black robe with ornate forest green accents at the collar and sleeves strode forward. His hair was the color of iron, and his large, peaceful eyes smiled. He lifted his arms, showing the deep green lining of his cloak. When the hall became completely silent, he called aloud, “I am Alwynn Belkirith, High Cleric of the Tribes of Berinfell, successor of Elrain Galadhon.” His voice was high like that of a tenor and as clear as a bell’s toll at midnight. The acoustics of the hall carried his sonorous voice even to the highest balcony. “On this, the twenty-third day of Arduin in the year 1422, eight hundred years after our city and our hope were stolen from us, the Lords of Berinfell return at last.”

  Cheers and shouts erupted, but above it all, the Elves began to clap, everyone synchronized: clap—clap—clap—slow at first, then increasing speed. Clap, clap, clap. Thousands of Elves clapped in perfect rhythm even as the pace picked up. Faster and faster it went, until it was full-out applause, and the high cleric again silenced the crowd.

  “Taken as infants and exiled to Earth where they would know nothing of their true lineage, today they have come here to claim their birthright.” Alwynn slowly surveyed the entire room and lifted one hand. “Will you all witness their ascension and pledge your service to them?”

  “WE WILL!” came the choral reply.

  Alwynn walked in a circle and traced a fingertip around a sloping cone of gray metal that stood waist high in the exact center of the floor. “You, faithful Elves of Berinfell, wish to serve your lords, but you must meet them first. You must meet them ALL.”

  He turned and gestured toward an entrance to the far right of the young lords and their thrones. There, a shadow appeared in the doorway. This figure came forward, followed by two flet soldiers. They neared the center of the hall. Johnny squinted, saw the silvery dremask light in this person’s hair. It can’t be. I thought she’d still be too weak to walk on her own.

  The figure came a little closer to the thrones. Johnny yelled, “AUTUMN!” And it was. She looked haggard and pale, but determined. She walked slowly across the hall, the two flet soldiers right behind her. As one, the other six teens raced toward her and embraced her. “Autumn, you’re walking,” Johnny said, holding her away from him.

  “I’m still very sore,” she said. “But I’m getting my strength back quickly. Claris says in another week, I’ll be able to run. I mean . . . really run. But there are other things . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she and Johnny shared a sad and knowing glance.

  What was that about? Tommy wondered.

  Kat frowned as she read Johnny’s and Autumn’s thoughts. “Poor Johnny and Autumn,” Kat’s thoughts replied in Tommy’s mind.

  What? Tommy’s urgent question flashed back.

  “They’re not brother and sister . . . they just found out.”

  But no additional thoughts passed between them as the high cleric stilled the cheering audience and motioned for the lords to be seated, and then motioned for the audience to be seated.

  Alwynn’s eyes underwent a transformation. The quiet peace was replaced by vital confidence, almost ferocity. His voice matched his glare. “We, the Children of Light, have dwelt far too long in darkness,” he said, the urgency of his words intensifying. “We, the founders of Berinfell and the caretakers of all of Allyra, have hidden in fear for far too long. We, the most ancient of the Great Races, have allowed ourselves to be driven near extinction. But NO MORE.”

  Cheers and more synchronized clapping. Alwynn gestured behind him, and the other six robed figures lowered their hoods. “Brethren of Elders, come forward. It is time to see our lords properly attired.”

  Properly attired? Kat looked down at her tunic and then over at Tommy and the others. But we’re all already dressed pretty elegantly. She looked over to Kiri Lee who smiled back with confidence, used to being the center of attention.

  Alwynn came first to Tommy. “You are Felheart, son of Lord Velaril and Tarin, his bride, of the tribe Silvertree. You were born a lord, but you must also choose to fulfill those duties by a pure heart. Your position requires stout leadership, but also . . . relentless service. Will you, before Ellos and all these you see assembled here, assume your position as a Lord of Elves? Will you honor our creeds? And will you serve your people?”

  “I will,” said Tommy.

  Alwynn pulled something out of a deep pocket in his robe. “Then by virtue of blood and word”—he lifted a cord over Tommy’s head— “I deem you a Lord of Elves. And I give you the amulet of the tribe Silvertree. You must wear it at all times, covering your heart, signifying your everlasting covenant to lead and protect your people, even at risk of your own life. Notice that the amulet itself is crafted from the most precious metals and stones, but the necklace is but a plain black cord. Remember, you—like the people you serve—are a blessed mixture of all that is precious and all that is common, and you must never stray from the right path. Now, sit, Lord of Elves. Sit upon the throne of your tribe.”

  Tommy nodded repeatedly and sat down. The high cleric stepped backward. Tommy looked at the amulet on his chest. It was round, about three inches in diameter, and seemed to be made of some kind of beveled crystal. Small irregular shapes were cut out of the field of the crystal, some wide enough that Tommy could fit a fingertip through them. The rest of the precious semi-transparent stone was divided into numerous sections by thin curving veins of silvery metal. Tommy held the medallion up closer to his face. In some of the smaller sections of jeweled stone, he could just make out a symbol or a letter of some kind. Not English, that’s for sure. He squinted. Goldarrow will know.

  A different elder came forward for each of the young lords, calling them each by their Elven name and tribe. To Kat: “Alreenia, daughter of Beleg and Lord Kendie of the tribe Hiddenblade.” To Autumn: “Miarra, daughter of Lord Galadhost and Salura of the tribe Swiftstorm.” To Johnny: “Albriand, son of Elroth and Lord Tisa of the tribe Ashheart.” To Jimmy: “Thorwin, son of Lord Xanthis and Dreia of the tribe Valorbrand.” To Jett: “Hamandar, son of Lord Vex and Jasmira of the tribe Nightwing.” And to Kiri Lee: “Lothriel, daughter of Charad and Lord Simona of the tribe Oakenflower.” And to each lord the elders gave a medallion, roughly the same size and seemingly crafted out of the same materials as Tommy’s. But their interior shapes were very different, each as unique and intricate as a fingerprint.

  The high cleric and the other elders moved to their seats, and for several moments the young lords and the elders were still and silent, enveloped in the atmosphere.

  Seated in the first row of stands, Elle Goldarrow did not want to weep openly, but the gravity of all that had led to the young lords’ rescue and arrival in Allyra—the waiting, the planning, the fighting, and the loss of life—came upon her in a rush. And at last she allowed herself to mourn for Charlie. She put her head in her hands. Grimwarden drew her to lean on his shoulder. “It was a terrible price,” he said. “But it was worth it. Look at them, Elle. They have come, spanning time, from one world to another, to save us all.”

  She looked upon the seven lords, and through her tears, she thought of how they had matured ever so slightly. There was about them the look of warriors. It was as if she saw into the future right then. Suddenly they were tall and broad-shouldered. Matured. Wisdom was upon their brows, mission in their eyes, and unmatched power in their fists. And they even bore the scars of battle, the price paid for war, even the ultimate sacrifice. For loss. And for victory. She knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her. Or was it? Whether as kids or adults, the Seven Elven Lords of Berinfell had returned.

  “We are the Children of Light,” said Alwynn suddenly. “And upon this timeless occasion, we will dare to risk a little light.”

  A frenzied murmur rose in the hall, spiraling upward. Elle
refocused, and the teens sat on the thrones once more. Young. Naive. Oh, Ellos, spare them, she prayed. But she knew it was in vain. Or at least be merciful.

  The high cleric signaled to a pair of flet soldiers near the northern entrance to the hall. They worked at a locking mechanism, releasing a thin chain, and then they began to pull.

  Alwynn stood and strode to the metallic cone in the center of the hall. As he removed the cone, he said, “May Ellos bless us with a clear sky and an unhindered path through the forest canopy.” Beneath the cone was a large deposit of the same crystals used in the dremask braziers. But these were clearly crafted by the Elves’ most gifted stonecutters. Ordinarily geometric, rigid, and sharp, these crystals were cut into the likeness of a lush flowering plant with seven star-shaped blossoms.

  Alwynn returned to his seat. He and the other elders gazed upward.

  The Elves stirred in their seats. Whispers filled the hall. And for many breathless moments nothing happened. In a repetitive cycle, Tommy looked from the crystal flowers to the elders to the roof of the hall and back again to the crystals.

  Kat, also staring up, leaned over. “What do you—?” She never finished the question.

  High above them all, a pinprick of light pierced the sea of murk in the hall’s vast ceiling. A thrilled murmur grew from the Elves in the balconies. The excitement intensified as more and more Elves realized what was happening far above. The distant point of light became a beam, focused and narrow, traveling down through the dust. The noise level grew exponentially, but the Elves were not cheering or shouting. It was more like a spontaneous release of joy and wonder, like small children at their first fireworks display. Gasping. Giggling.

  The ray of sunlight plunged down until it struck the sculpted crystal plant. In a split second, the single beam divided into seven. A thin ray of light blazed out of each of the crystal flowers and struck Tommy’s, Kat’s, Autumn’s, and Kiri Lee’s medallions. Taller than the others, Jett had to scoot down for the stream of light to hit his. By contrast, Johnny and Jimmy had to sit up a bit higher in their seats. Now the split rays of the sun struck each of the seven medallions, and for a few moments, each of the young lords seemed to have a captured star emblazoned upon his or her chest. Keeping their torsos still, the teens turned their heads this way and that, grinning and staring.

  Alwynn, the elders, Goldarrow, Grimwarden, and the others smiled with deep satisfaction. A few of the oldest Elves had seen a similar ceremony before . . . but it was long ago when the Elves of Berinfell were still free to walk in the sun’s light. In the underground, it was something more beautiful than they could have conceived.

  Then there came a series of sharp gasps. The high cleric sat bolt upright in his chair. The sunlight blazing on the lords’ medallions increased in intensity tenfold. Within the bursting brightness came sparkles of color. Suddenly needle-thin rays of light—deep sea blues, sunset reds and oranges, forest greens, amethyst purples, and sunflower yellows—fired out from each medallion and streamed in all directions. Crisscrossing strands of light filled Luminary Hall.

  “Look!” Tommy exclaimed. “The light beams . . . they’re hitting all the Elves . . . all of them!”

  This the elders had not expected, and those assembled there had never seen anything like it. From the seven medallions, thousands of thin lines shot out in all directions, some striking the crystal flowers and reflecting toward the Elves seated behind the young lords. Every single Elf in the hall had a personal sunbeam blazing on his or her chest or face. Some laughed. Some wept. Some played with the light and ran their hands through it. Even the Elven children had streams of light.

  “Alwynn, what does this mean?” asked Manaelkin Zoar, one of the elders.

  Even Alwynn was unsure, but he answered, “It means Ellos smiles upon us.”

  The light flickered; each and every colorful strand blinked. And then it was all gone. Although the flet soldiers had not shut out the light, something had above the surface. Alwynn motioned to the flet soldiers, who quickly returned the mechanism to its original position.

  The ceremony ended, and Elle Goldarrow and several of the other Sentinels led the young lords out of the hall, leaving the audience to their thoughts concerning the lords. From there, the Seven split up and made their way to their quarters.

  “Go right to sleep,” Goldarrow said to Tommy. “Tomorrow is the council, and many things must be decided.”

  “Things concerning us?”

  Goldarrow put a kind hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “Now that you have returned to Allyra, everything concerns you.”

  5

  The High Council

  THE SEVEN Lords waited at a large round table in the center of a well-lit chamber not far from Luminary Hall. Grimwarden was there, as were Goldarrow, the Sentinels, and Dreadnaughts who had survived the adventure on Earth, and a few other military leaders Tommy did not recognize. Surprisingly, even a few Gwar were in attendance. The Seven were taken aback at first, shocked that such villains would be allowed into the Chamber of Allegiance, let alone in Nightwish.

  “Not all Gwar are evil,” Goldarrow whispered to Tommy, seeing him wide-eyed. “Just as all Elves are not good.”

  He turned to look at her, brow wrinkled. “Really?”

  “I expect it’s no different on Earth,” came a gruff voice from behind.

  “Whoa!” said Kat, spinning around with the rest of the Seven. “You startled me—” She froze.

  “Fulmooth Blandlard,” said the Gwar. “Guard of the Aquifers, as of late.” He extended a burly hand in greeting.

  Kat looked to Goldarrow. A nod. “Pleased to meet you,” Kat said as she tentatively grasped only one of his massive fingers. The Gwar did not smile; neither did he seem pleased at their meeting. Great, she thought. Now I’ve offended him. Fulmooth bowed his head in deference to the rest of the lords, then took his place among those who waited.

  The uncomfortable encounter passed, and soon the room grew very silent. An ornate crystal chandelier, lit presumably by dozens of dremask flames, hung above the table. Tommy watched the flames dance and wondered just who exactly they were waiting for. He counted the empty chairs. There were seven. Oh, he thought. The elders.

  As if on cue, the seven elders entered the chamber in a single line. They sat in the remaining seven seats. Jimmy leaned over to Jett and said, “Did yu notice . . . the high cleric didn’ take the center seat.”

  “Yeah,” said Jett. “Saw that. He didn’t lead them in, either.”

  The elder in the center banged a gavel on the table. “I am Manaelkin Zoar, chief of elders and presider of this council,” said the center elder.

  “Oh,” Jimmy and Jett muttered.

  The chief elder lowered his hood, letting thin gray hair spill out on his shoulders. He looked to the seven young lords. “I apologize that we didn’t have a more complete introduction last night,” he said, tapping his chest with long, narrow fingers. “It was . . . a special evening. In fact”—he wiped the corner of his eye—“this is the first time we’ve convened the full council in eight hundred years.”

  Alwynn Belkirith nodded. “Every moment since the Seven have returned feels like a new blessing.”

  “Indeed,” said Manaelkin. “For the benefit of the new lords, I’d like to start with an introduction. I am the senior member of the council, a dubious honor, since that means I am also the oldest Elf in the room.” He paused for a smattering of soft laughs. “Nearly two thousand years of life—trial and much error—in Allyra has taught me a great deal. My wisdom, such as it is, I lend to this council. But I do not make the decisions. I am one voice among the many. That is all.”

  Manaelkin paused to let the assembly—especially the lords— ponder his words. Then with a sweeping gesture across the table he said, “Let us begin. Flet Marshall Brynn, you have news of the Spider King’s movements?”

  Brynn stood and crossed her wrists over her chest. Her wavy red locks bounced, and there was a gleam in her eye, but she was a
ll business. “The Spider King’s search parties continue in all parts of Allyra. We’ve spotted them as far west as Trulldore and as far north as the Hemlock Palisades. They are most numerous in the Thousand-League Forest of course, but they are wary and slow.”

  “They would expect us to create a stronghold among the trees,” said Goldarrow for the benefit of the Seven.

  “It has not yet entered his mind that we would stay below ground,” said Grimwarden.

  Kiri Lee raised her hand. Everyone stared at her curiously.

  “I believe Lothriel has a question,” said Miss Finney. “You’re not in class anymore, Kiri Lee. You may speak freely here.”

  “Oh,” she said, blushing. “Um . . . okay. I was wondering why wouldn’t the Spider King expect the Elves—expect us, that is—to stay underground? Seems like a good place to hide.”

  The high cleric looked up sharply. Audience voices began talking. “Has no one told them?” he asked.

  “There has never been a need,” said Goldarrow, looking at Manaelkin. More murmuring. “On Earth, aboveground, there was no danger.”

  “Order!” Manaelkin rapped with his gavel until all was silent.

  “I see.” Alwynn nodded gravely. “Here, the danger is ever present. They must know.”

  Goldarrow stood and addressed the Seven. “Lords, you’ve heard us call our race ‘Children of the Sun’ or ‘Children of Light’? These are not metaphors as one might think. Rather, there is an important reason for this.” She paused. “Elves cannot live without sunlight.”

  “Whoa,” said Jett. “You mean we’ll die in the dark?”

  “Only if you’ve had absolutely no sunlight for more than three days,” said Goldarrow. “Even under cloud cover, you will still get enough of the sun through the clouds. On Earth, you knew this subconsciously. There were times when inexplicably you felt ill or weak. You probably felt drawn to go outside or at least to windows.”

  “Aye!” said Jimmy. “That’s true. I canna’ tell yu how many times in Ardfern, with the typical gloom, I felt . . . well . . . out of sorts.”