by Marc Johnson
I made camp, and a chorus of crickets surrounded me. A family of spiny hedgehogs scurried past me, just out of reach of the light of my campfire. An owl's big eyes settled on me before she turned her attention to more manageable prey.
After settling in and eating, I went to sleep. In the middle of the night, a loud rustling noise woke me. It sounded like a large animal, maybe even a boar. The hairs rose on the back of my neck. It was close. The swaying of the forest ceased, and a tense silence surrounded me. I knew that silence could mean only one thing—danger.
I was too used to the safety of the caves, and so I was caught completely off guard. A strong, sturdy net was thrown over me. I grabbed onto the net and grasped the red mana inside of me. My hand glowed crimson, causing the net to burst into flame and incinerate. I got up and pulled my hood back. Three small, shadowy figures moved towards me with blinding speed. I readied a spell just as I caught glimpse of a sword's blade glistening in the moonlight.
“Wait!” one of them yelled. “He’s not one of them.”
“Who are you?” I asked, squinting my eyes and keeping my guard up.
One by one, the trio came into the thin moonlight, and my eyes adjusted to see them. I gasped, taken aback.
They were elves.
Elves were legendary. I had seen one or two in my life, from a distance. I’d never met any until now.
“We’re from Sharald,” one of them said, his voice light and polite. His light green skin and dark green tunic blended in with our surroundings. It was no wonder I hadn’t seen them before they netted me. “My name is Prastian of Meridian.” Prastian lowered his longbow and bowed his head slightly. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. The big one is my trusty companion Behast of Olyn, and the little one is my younger brother, Demay.”
“I'm Hellsfire.” I bowed in return, but never took my eyes off the muscular Behast.
“Unusual name for a human,” Behast said.
I opened my mouth to say the same, but decided not to when I saw his hand tighten on his sword hilt.
Behast glowered at me.
Prastian stepped in front of him. “He was honored enough to be raised by dwarves, so he’s different from the rest of us. What are you doing out here at this time of night, Hellsfire? Judging from the way you look and the fact that you’re away from the main roads, you aren’t a bandit or part of a caravan. You don’t look like a simple traveler.”
“I was sleeping.”
“I could see that. Where are you going?”
I glanced up at the direction I had seen the star fall and shrugged. I didn’t want to tell him that I was on my way to Alexandria so I said, “I'm not sure.”
“You realize you're in elf territory,” Prastian said.
I nodded.
“While we don't mind your kind being here, we want to be sure there's not any trouble.”
“Are you saying I'm going to do something?”
“No,” Behast said, eying me. “You're the least of our problems. Vile Wasteland creatures are about.”
“Is that why you ambushed me? You thought I was a creature of some sort?” I felt a deep foreboding at his words. The Wastelands were far from here, and the army of Alexandria had always stopped them from getting this deep into Northern Shala. Unless my vision was true and Alexandria had already fallen.
I stared past the elves into the forest, willing myself to see all the way to Alexandria. I saw nothing, of course, but clenched my fists in frustration until I left marks in my palms. Maybe I was too slow and had failed to leave in time. If anything had happened to her…
“What are you hunting?” I asked.
“Ogres,” Demay said.
“What are ogres doing here?”
“We’re not sure,” Prastian said, “but we’ve been finding more and more creatures from the Wastelands in our forests.” He grasped his bow even tighter. “Unsuspecting people have been dying. Animals have been slaughtered. We’ve sent out hunting parties and have been searching for days, trying to find them. Yet, we’ve found nothing.”
The elf’s voice was quiet, but the rage was evident in his words. It must have been hard to contain his frustration at the thought of his people dying. I was worried too. Not for the elves or what was happening in Sharald’s Forest, but for what might be happening in Alexandria. Did Alexandria still stand? Was the princess slain?
“What about Alexandria?” I asked. “Shouldn’t the Guardsmen of Alexandria be stopping them?”
The trio of elves shared a look and didn’t say anything. I pressed them. “Does Alexandria still stand?”
“We haven’t time for this,” Prastian said. “We must leave and get back on the trail.”
“Quiet!” Behast said. His long ears swayed back and forth. “We’re not alone.”
Before we could respond, two gigantic ogres crashed through the trees. One hit Demay with his rock-sized fist and sent him soaring through the air until he crashed hard into a tree. Before the ogre could finish Demay, Prastian drew his bow and loosed arrows into the ogre’s arms, enraging him. The ogre charged Prastian.
The other ogre went after Behast. The elf drew his sword and sliced the ogre's long, scarred arms when they came into range. Instead of rushing at Behast, the ogre ripped up a small tree by the roots and used that as his club. Despite the ogre's monstrous strength, Behast held his own.
Prastian had more trouble. While he had managed to strike the ogre with two arrows, he couldn't get enough room or time to draw his bow again. He tried to keep the ogre's attention from his unconscious brother. He drew his short sword, using it much like a snake, with quick cuts and slashes. That did little to harm the ogre—just enraged him further. Luckily, Prastian's speed and quickness kept him out of the ogre's reach.
I ran to help Prastian, summoning mana along the way. Master Stradus had taught me offensive spells, but I had no idea what to use, or where to begin. I had only used my magic in this way in practice. Real combat was completely different, and I couldn’t think straight. I readied my fire, thinking I was out of the ogre’s reach.
I was wrong.
The ogre's long arms swung hard and fast. His monstrous fist knocked me against a tree. I grunted from the pain in my back. Leaves rained all around me. I scrambled up and began a spell.
Before I could say the incantation, the ogre grabbed me by the throat. He lifted me high into the air, looking at me with angry eyes. His monstrous hands closed around my throat. Spit flew from my mouth. I fought the urge to attack his arm, and instead stretched my arm towards his face, summoning red mana. His hands crushed my throat; death loomed in his eyes. Before that could come to pass, a bright crimson fireball formed in my hand. It flew into the ogre’s rotten mouth and back through his head. Brains and blood splattered the trees.
His grip loosened, and I fell to the ground. The ogre's oversized body swayed and tumbled down, crashing next to me. I put my hand around my throat and gasped. The cool night air soothed my sore throat. I stared at the ogre’s half-head, with his glazed, stony eyes, taking in what I had done. It was the first time I had consciously used my magic to harm something. Then reaction set in, and my hand started shaking. I felt like I might faint.
Behast had finished off his ogre, and came over to me. “You fought well,” he said. I clenched my hand to stop it from shaking. He stretched his ogre-blood-stained hand towards me. The black blood stuck to him like honey. I nodded, taking his hand, and he pulled me to my feet. I put my hand to my side and stretched to see if my body worked properly. Except for a few bumps and bruises, I was fine. We walked over to where Demay lay.
“Fight it, little brother,” Prastian said, leaning over him and checking his body with a gentle touch. “Please, wake up.” Demay was in far worse shape than any of us. Pale green blood trickled from his mouth, and his breathing was erratic. He looked as if he might have injured his spine when he hit the tree.
“How bad is it?” Behast asked.
“Bad.” Prastian said. “I thi
nk it’s internal. I need some herbs or a good healer, but it’s too far for either of those right now. I’m afraid we won’t make it to Sharald in time.”
“Let me try,” I said. I reached into my purse and pulled out one of the stabilizing potions. “Give him this.”
Prastian didn't hesitate. He poured the translucent liquid into Demay’s mouth, and Prastian leaned over until he heard Demay's steady, rhythmic breathing. “Thank you. How long until he’s better?”
“I’m not sure. It’s designed to keep the person alive until proper help can be found.” I almost offered to try to heal Demay, until I thought about all the times I had practiced using white mana. It was very elusive and difficult to use, and if I messed up, things could get worse. Plus, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone I could perform magic.
“I would never be able to forgive myself if something happened to him.” Prastian started to pick up his brother.
“Let me,” Behast said. “I’m much stronger than you, and can make the journey back to Sharald without any loss of speed.”
“Thank you, my friend. Hellsfire, if you don’t have important matters to attend to, you should come with us to Sharald.”
I thought about his offer. I had always wanted to see Sharald. While it lay to the north, in the general direction I headed, it would still be a couple of days out of my way. I needed to reach Alexandria and see if the princess was all right. The elves’ stories of the Wasteland creatures filtering into Northern Shala had made me even more worried about her. I was going to tell him no, but then I realized that the thought of going to Sharald gave me no headaches or nosebleeds. While traveling, I had occasionally had thoughts of going to see my mother, but every time I did, the pain struck me. There was no pain now.
I decided to trust my instincts and go to Sharald. Since the elves were Alexandria’s closest neighbors, they would have more information about what was going on. If Alexandria had fallen, they would know.
“I’ll go,” I said.
“Good,” Prastian said. “Then let's leave.”
We ventured deeper into the forest. Prastian led the way, Behast followed, and I trailed. The two moved fast and with ease, even in the dark. It was hard to keep up with them. I made enough noise to wake the whole forest, while they barely made a whisper.
Because of the ogres, and what the elves had said about seeing other Wasteland creatures, my eyes constantly darted around, alert for an attack. The elves did the same thing, but with their ears. I carried mana with me, hovering near the surface, ready to be released.
We reached Sharald as the sun rose and the early morning mist faded.
----
Some said the elves were birthed from the forest. I almost believed it when I saw them. They startled me, appearing without warning out of the oak and maple trees surrounding the city. They eyed me warily as they talked to Prastian in the elf tongue. I had a feeling there were more guards in the trees, but try as I might, I couldn't see them. Their green skin blended in perfectly with the leaves. They also wore brown tunics to match the bark of the thick trunks and branches. I lowered my guard only when Prastian took leave of the sentry posts and guards and we were let into the city of Sharald.
I had heard stories of Sharald when I was younger, but seeing it was something else. The huge city was literally at one with the forest. The elves built most of their homes and some shops in the trees. The foliage decorated and covered the airy buildings. Some were even built in the trunks of the larger trees. Long wooden bridges connected the buildings. They looked thin and insubstantial, but the elves seemed at home on the swaying structures as they went about their daily duties, carrying bundles and supplies across them with ease. Elf children ran across the bridges as if they were on the ground, or simply swung from branch to branch.
The elves didn't clear the ground like most people do. There were paths wide enough for carts and horses, but most of the city was covered with trees, scrub, and bushes. I had to push aside some stray branches that stuck out into the road.
As we made our way towards the center of the city, people smiled and waved at my elven companions. Their bright faces sagged and dropped when they saw the injured Demay. When they noticed me, the older elves whispered amongst themselves. I found that strange, because humans go regularly into Sharald for business and sightseeing. Unlike some other races, they didn't close their borders to outsiders. I put my hood up, trying to hide my face from the elves’ scrutiny, though their looks weren't ones of malice or anger. I couldn't tell what it was, but they wouldn't stop looking or whispering.
Some of the elves I saw looked exhausted, wearing bandages or slings. Others were at work making arrows, and we passed an open space where a group practiced with their bows, faces intense as they hit their targets.
The children ran freely through the city, playing with other children or with animals. There were many animals, and none of them had restraints. Deer, rabbits, and raccoons moved among the elves, unafraid. They even held still while the children fed or petted them, though most of them shied away when I came near. I knew that elves never harmed an animal unless they had to, but I hadn’t realized they lived in such harmony with the forest creatures. I had never seen such a thing.
We finally reached the center of the city, where the king’s palace lay. The aura of the ancient building nearly forced me to my knees. Green mana radiated from it. The magic was ancient and very powerful, thumping with every breath I took. It felt like the heart of the forest. I relaxed, trying not to fight it. I let the magic flow around me so I wouldn't be crushed by it. When I did that, I saw what normal people did.
The castle wasn't in the trees like most of the other structures, but it was part of them. Hardened vines and trunks made up a gigantic dome. There wasn't a hint of decay or withering anywhere. The combination of different plants was far more wondrous than I could have imagined. They composed a beautiful chorus, producing a harmony so lovely my heart understood it even while my head didn’t.
I shook off the wonderment and followed Prastian and Behast inside.
People came and carried Demay away. Others led us down a long corridor and into the audience chamber. The inside of the dome was just as strange as I’d thought it would be. The vines had hardened so much that they were like stone. There were no insects or holes in the walls. The magic was ingrained in the structure, keeping everything perfectly preserved.
In the audience chamber, the first thing that caught my eye, besides the emerald throne, were the paintings. Dozens of them surrounded us.
I walked around, taking them in. It was like walking through time. Most of the portraits showed the elven family tree, starting with Sharald. The family tree wasn’t long, because elves live longer than humans and don’t have as many children. I stopped at one of the last paintings, amazed. It was a portrait of a young elf and what appeared to be a young Master Stradus. He had the same sky-colored robes and wise smile, but I couldn’t tell if it was him. He looked so youthful and was without his staff.
With all my gawking and the fact that I was dead tired from being up all night, I didn’t notice the ruler of the elves come in. Prastian cleared his throat, and I looked up to see an elf of great stature with long, dark green robes, sitting on the emerald throne. His wrinkly, pale green skin, along with the way his ears drooped down, betrayed his years. I’d noticed that the younger elves’ ears pointed up. The older they got, the lower their ears became, as if to signal their return to the earth. The elf king smiled at me.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” Prastian said, and knelt. Behast and I followed suit.
“I’m glad to see you’ve returned, dear cousin,” the king said. “I was worried what would become of you. Don’t fear; my best healers are working on Demay as we speak. I wouldn’t let anything happen to family.” His wise, light green eyes turned on me. “I see you’ve brought a guest.”
“Forgive me, Majesty. This is Hellsfire. He helped us defeat the ogres that troubled the area. Hellsfire,
this is our king, Sharald.”
“Majesty,” I said. My eyes darted from him to the paintings as I tried to suppress my confusion. I had read of the great Sharald, but he had died many years ago, not too long after he established the city. This elf, while having similar features, didn’t look like the one in the portrait.
King Sharald laughed. “Please, Hellsfire, call me Sharald. Everyone does. I am actually Sharald the Fourth, descendant of the great Sharald. Rest easy. I saw the look of surprise on your face. I must say I take great pleasure when people think I’m him.”
I smiled. “As you wish, Your Majesty. I mean Sharald.”
“Good. I know you must be tired, but let’s have breakfast. After you three clean up, come to the dining hall. I can tell by the looks of you, you have much to tell.”
Guards escorted me to another room where I cleaned myself up. They offered me a new tunic and breeches. I was thankful, glad to have some clean clothes that fit, even if I wore them under my wizard’s robes. When I was ready, they led me to the dining room. Flowers decorated a long oak table. An elf led me to the head of the table where the others waited for me.
Sharald motioned for me to seat myself, then said to the servants, “Please bring us our food. We’re all famished.”
Breakfast consisted of fruits, nuts, vegetables, grains, and cheese. There wasn’t a single piece of meat. The elves thought it wrong to kill animals unless it was absolutely necessary. That suited me fine, since wizards didn’t eat meat either.
After breakfast, Prastian told the story of what had happened to him. His words danced on air while his tongue provided the music. His yarn-spinning refreshed me. I didn’t even yawn, despite how tired my body was.
“This is very alarming,” Sharald said. “Very alarming indeed.” He sat in silence while he pondered the elves’ story. His emerald eyes rested on Prastian. “Things are getting worse. We’re having to send out more hunting parties, and people are dying.”
Prastian nodded.
“Yet the gods have given us hope and a sign.” King Sharald turned his fading green eyes on me.
