Elves- the Book of Daniel

by R Brent Powell

  Nephew, Daniel thought, does everyone here know everyone else? I guess if your whole kingdom is measured in bow shots like the Duchy of Grand Fenwick then why not.

  "Want?” Alan asked. “When I heard that you escaped from the castle, I was both pleased and amused. Amused that if anyone had broken out it would be my mysterious uncle, and of course pleased that you were indeed out. And then when the news traveled to me of the stranger accompanying my uncle in his visit to the Baron Below, coupled with your mysterious escape, I felt compelled to come to this ring as the haven you would most likely use on your way to the woods." The elf stared at Barton, barely able to contain his enthusiasm and excitement.

  Ah Ha, Daniel thought, even I can see how wound up this guy is. It must be a trait obviously inherited from his mother. OK, so I am starting to find some “tells.”

  "Uncle, if this is all true, I'm here to help."

  NINE

  Barton looked at the elf and then at Daniel and then back to the ground. His head was spinning: here was a nephew he hadn't seen since he'd been a baby, spouting out loud all of the things Barton was afraid to think, even to himself. His nephew was leaning forward, unconsciously trying to close the space between them in his enthusiasm.

  Daniel's eyes were nearly the size of the silver coin he'd made and he and Alan were both looking to Barton for explanation and confirmation. Barton slowly reached into his pocket and removed the talisman that seemed to increase in weight every time he considered it. He flipped the coin to his nephew who caught it in the air. "Ever seen a coin like that? I never have. It has strange writing and symbols on it that have no meaning to me. What does have meaning, is that it is made from silver and I watched young Daniel here make it out of dirt and pebbles with no more effort than it took me to share our lunch. I've never heard of anyone making metal. I've never heard of anyone making anything this hard or substantial by themselves, and never in less than a few days. He claims he has no magic, yet pushed a hole through 12 feet of stone and never broke a sweat. Alan, I don't know what he is, and I don't believe he does either. But like you, the stories I've heard since you were a boy are hard to ignore. Our friend Daniel here believes we are all part of a bad dream he is having from which he cannot awake."

  Daniel listened to it all. "Okay, that's enough. Whether I'm asleep or in a coma I don't know anything about magic. I don't know anything about old campfire stories, legends or tall tales. What I do know is that I don't know what's going on, I can't seem to wake up, and I'm really starting to get pissed off at the whole thing."

  The elf looked at Daniel and then looked at his uncle, when his uncle returned the eye contact, the elf raised one eyebrow in question. Now that looks more like Spock, Daniel thought to himself.

  "I suppose it falls to me to tell you what we're talking about, but be clear, this is the story whispered from person to person and never spoken of in front of the Elders or anytime outside of a family group. It is a story of hope for the elves and whispered among them as if they are afraid to say it out loud. I will tell you the story as it was told to me.

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  The elders sat quietly. The flickering orange light from the fire provided the only movement or expression on their faces. Beylvar, the eldest of the elders looked at each of the other elves one at a time. Heads turned to face him one at a time, eyes met his one pair at a time, and reflected a green light as the fire caught them just right. With the cycle of his examination complete, the agreement had been reached though no sound or other movement had been seen in any of the elders. The gathering was restrained and somber even for elders.

  “The humans are coming.” He said it flatly expecting no argument. “They will not meet, they will not treat, and we cannot surrender. Our magic is powerful, but building the power is too slow to protect us from their incessant rush.”

  “It is true they come like the mosquitoes, springing up after a rain to attack us and die, but they suck us drier each time.” The elder who spoke was Glydrif. He had been one of the last to concede the need for their desperate act. Not quite right, Beylvar corrected his thoughts, not really the last to admit the need but the last to accept the desperation. Glydrif was not sure that even something as desperate as stopping the eradication of the elves by humans justified breaking such an ingrained taboo. He had argued that the breaking in tradition with such a selfish act could so undermine their people’s beliefs that to succeed would still be to fail. Even now with the far edge of the forest facing the army of invading humans, he spoke as if still convincing himself. “We have little blood left now and the magic may not be finished before the humans get here.”

  “Even so, Glydrif, we have agreed to this and must begin if there is to be any hope at all.”

  The ancient elves sat on the ground in a circle about the fire. Their clothes were plain and loose, cloth and leather in shades of brown and green that seemed to blend into the night even in the warm glow cast by the fire. They had no adornment, for none was needed among elves. They knew each other’s worth and position, and always had without the golden glitter the humans craved.

  The clearing was large enough that the stars in the moonless night could watch down unhindered by the forest canopy. The edges of the clearing occasionally displayed an orange twinkle like a pale star fallen to earth. Those lights were only the occasional reflection of the fire off the swords and armor of the council guard. Between the elders and guards the earth was flat and packed. Thousands of years of elven councils had prepared the clearing to be this night’s stage.

  “Our magic has failed to protect us from the human armies. We cannot create new spells or weave the weaves we know fast enough or long enough to out run or out last the humans. We have admitted the need for new magic and that it is the only hope of our survival.

  The spell of casting has not been used in the memory of the elves. We know the tradition of its purpose and our circumstances leave us no other options. It is also clear that the casting must be heartfelt by all who weave their voices. Is there any here who still doubts? To withhold your voice condemns us. To fail in your focus and concentration condemns us as well. Speak now and give us time to hide from the humans or begin!”

  Beylvar looked again at the faces around the fire stopping at Glydrif as if to question him alone. Glydrif met Beylvar’s eyes and dipped his head so slightly as to seem a chance of the flickering light. Then he spoke. “The spell to ostracize was never meant to be blended with the spell of summoning. But, you are right my old friend, we have no choice. Send for the babe and let us begin.”

  Beylvar glanced into the dark beyond the ring and back at the fire. In moments another elf appeared with a small bundle. He too was dressed in forest colors. His name was Drelnid and the resemblance to the old elf would have been plain even to a human. He was taller than his father by a half a hand standing six and a half feet.

  Against his dark clothing the bundle wrapped in blue that Drelnid carried seemed to pull all the firelight to it. The elf was young, in his early eighties, but carried himself with dignity as he stepped into the ring.

  “Thank you my son,” Beylvar’s voice was flat and emotionless, too emotionless even for an elder. If others noticed they gave no indication, but they wouldn’t embarrass him or his second grandson either way. With a slight motion of his chin, Beylvar directed his descendant to place the bundle on the ground a pace from him and halfway to the fire. Drelnid did as directed pausing only to pull back the cloth and expose its contents. He took a final look at the bundle, glanced at his grandfather and withdrew from the light.

  The object moved slightly, disturbed by the air on its skin. Beylvar’s great grandson looked like any other elf baby, almost. Deiniol was fat and pink and obviously healthy. He had the unconcerned demeanor of a baby well loved and cared for with no fear of anyone or anything. He hadn’t even put up a fuss when the points were removed from hi
s ears. It had been done magically with no pain but he seemed more intent on the sound of the spell than any changes it wrought.

  “We begin,” Beylvar said. Glydrif began the singing and was quickly joined by five other elves. They were spaced evenly around the fire. Each singer had an, as yet, silent elf to either side. When the song of casting was even and flowing, Beylvar led the remaining six in the spell of summoning. The sounds mixed and collided at first. Slowly as if settling into a comfortable harmony and counterpoint the songs began to blend. The circle sat singing, trance-like for most of the night. As the sun rose over the circle, the last embers of the fire and a few footprints were all that was left to greet it. All, except for an abandoned sky blue swaddling.

  TEN

  Daniel sat very still, mesmerize by the story and trying to absorb the idea that they thought he was the baby in the blanket. His face was pensive as his mind swirled around the idea. His reverie was broken by Barton’s voice.

  "So, Daniel, if you are the returned great-grandson of Beylvar then the elves will have great expectations of you. The story we know says they took a chance on an idea that violated their fundamental beliefs. But even in the story, while the expectations were high, nothing would explain what I have seen you do. And true or not, if the elves are willing to believe, the humans will believe as well and their reaction will not be one of hope."

  Daniel thought through everything he had heard and the comments that had been made so far trying to piece all the threads together. “But,” he finally asked aloud with more than a little frustration in his voice, “what is it I am supposed to do? What is it that is supposed to happen?”

  “No one knows the full story about that night, but those in the circle, and many of them are dead,” Alan interjected. “Those still alive do not speak of it in any detail. Perhaps that’s why it is nearly legend, we speculate on their intent and speculation makes the hopes grow. To save us from humans? Yes. To bring new ways? Yes. But how and what, we don’t know.”

  The halfling was watching Daniel with expectation. When Daniel opened his mouth to speak, not knowing really what he was going to say, Alan gently raised a hand to stop him, "Daniel, whether or not you are the one talked about in whispers, matters little to me. What does matter is that if you have the power to do that which Barton says he has seen you do, then both the elves and the humans need your help and I hope you have not come too late."

  Daniel felt the words building up inside of him, swirling around and trying to get out. He felt the need to reply but had no idea what to say. When he finally spoke the words were probably not what the others hope to hear. "Look, Alan, I don't know anything about elves, legends, or magic. I don't know anything about all this mystical crap. I hum songs and stuff happens and the only explanation that makes any sense to me is that I'm in a coma and imagining all of this."

  "What's a coma?" The elf asked.

  Daniel took in a deep breath and let out a matching sigh. He felt the air run out of him the way it had out of Barton only minutes before. And in a tone that sounded immensely tired he said, "A coma is a deep, deep sleep that can last for many years and is often brought on by sickness or an injury to the head. Yesterday I was a student working in a laboratory and today I am here in an England that in my world has never existed. So, since, to my mind, magic does not exist, and this place does not exist, I must be in a coma." Daniel had said it slowly as if explaining it to a dim child for the third time.

  The halfling gave Daniel a knowing smile and nodded his head in approval. "I believe I would have been more concerned if you had been willing to accept this role too readily, and since you are as reluctant to believe as I am sure many others will be, I would ask you for a simple favor."

  "What kind of favor?" Daniel and Barton asked at the same time.

  "I will pledge my help, my knowledge, my life, and if you should want it, my friendship. All I ask in return is that you help us to the best of your abilities until you wake up from this coma."

  Daniel looked at the elf and his expression of excitement and amusement. It was not nearly as disquieting as the expression on Barton's face.

  Daniel shrugged and looked back at the elf. "I think I'm going to need a friend," he said.

  Barton was studying the two of them. If Alan was this eager to believe, he thought, how fast were the whispers going to spread? How long before the rumors became facts, at least in the minds of those who want to believe or, worse, fear them? "Alan,” Barton said with a shake of his head and a look of bemusement, “if the look on your face is any indication of how others are reacting, we best have a cold dinner lest the fire brings in more folks searching for us and eager to help."

  Alan smiled and shrugged, and to Daniel’s eye seemed to be losing some of his formality. The subject change to family history and Daniel noticed that Alan seemed to be enthusiastically trying to verify some of the lore around his uncle. His questions revealed almost as much as Barton’s attempt to side step some of them. The idle chatter helped pass the rest of the afternoon until it was time to put a meal together and Barton started assigning tasks.

  The cold meal was based more on Barton’s tastes than what was available but Daniel’s mind was elsewhere.

  Daniel had been sitting quietly while they ate, half listening to the conversation between Alan and Barton as they caught up on family business, and half lost in his own thoughts trying to come to grips with his situation. He and the elf turned their heads to the same sounds at the same time. They could hear hooves coming towards them fast.

  Alan quickly retrieved a bow from behind the log where he had originally been sitting and faced the opening in the thicket while he notched an arrow. Barton drew his sword and turned to face the threat as well. Daniel began to fumble for his, not wanting to be the only one standing there unprepared. None of them were prepared for what rode into the clearing.

  While Barton and Alan began to relax their stance, Daniel’s face continued to show shock.

  The horse was carrying a young woman dressed in forest garb. Her face had a light blush from wind caused by a long fast ride and her braided hair had wisps flying here and there. Daniel noticed her clothes looked right for traveling, but at closer examination, seemed too new to have seen much time in the woods.

  "Lady Lissette," Alan said speaking first, "welcome." As he spoke, he stepped forward quickly, and grabbed the horse's bridle to control both the horse and its rider.

  Daniel just stood there, frozen in place, holding his sword and staring at the first person he saw when he arrived in this coma. Without thinking his first words were, “I thought you said this clearing was a secret.”

  "Lady Lissette, if I may introduce my uncle Barton and our friend Daniel who, rumor has it, you have already met." Although Alan was the picture of grace and etiquette the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye as he introduced Daniel left little doubt that he was enjoying himself. He stepped forward and offered his hand to help the Lady down from her horse. Her eyes moved from Alan to Barton and then to Daniel where they widened briefly in recognition.

  "Thank you for the introductions, Alan. Barton, your reputation precedes you and, Daniel, I did not recognize you at first. Pardon me, but the clothing threw off my eye." She delivered her response with the control of someone rarely caught off guard, despite the initial surprise evident on her face when she recognized Daniel.

  She swung down off the horse and said, "You two created quite a scene in the castle and in the town. In a way, I owe you thanks."

  Lissette had taken in the scene with a few quick glances and leaving her horse to Alan found a spot she liked on the log and sat down. The others were motionless as they watched her exert her presence in the little clearing.

  “I would be happy to share your food,” she said as if she had been asked. “I only carried a small water skin with me as I rode.”

  Barton had replaced his sword and was reaching for the food sack when he caught himself
with a smile. ‘She is good,’ he thought, almost pulled me in with that tone, too.’ With the food pouch retrieved, he turned to her slowly holding the bag close to him.

  Alan and Daniel had been motionless until Barton turned back to Lissette and his words grabbed their attention.

  “Lady Lissette, we are happy to share what we have, but there is a price Alan has already had to pay, and it would only be fair for all to provide the same.”

  Lissette’s confidence flickered for a moment on her face as she heard the words but only the keenest observer would have noticed. Barton smiled as he saw the flicker and continued. “Don’t worry, the price is only the story of what has happened and brought you here. Apparently Daniel and I have missed great excitement in the barony and wish to know all we can.”

  Lissette gave the slightest tip of her head in acknowledgement and a small smile. So Barton wants to pretend he is ignorant of all that has happened, she thought, well enough.