by Ravek Hunter
“You have a net?” Qel was incredulous. “Why didn’t we use that to catch the Rayfin last night rather than the poles we fashioned out of branches?”
“Did you know how to fish before yesterday?” Tridi countered.
“Well, no . . .”
“And now you do.” The elf had a very smug look on his face. “And you know how to forage for food, build a shelter, and set a proper camp. All these things may be important for your survival one day.”
“You’re right,” Qel had to agree. “Thank you.”
“See those bears?” Tridi was pointing across the river. “They are called long-tooth brown bears. They are very dangerous. If they were hungry, they might consider us a source of food. Fortunately, the Rayfin are abundant this time of year and easy to catch, so they won’t concern themselves with us as long as we keep our distance.”
“Avoiding most animals in the Sylvan Forest is probably a good general rule,” Qel volunteered.
Tridi smiled. “That is the most sensible thing I have heard you say since we met.”
Qel wasn’t sure if he should laugh at that or not.
After netting two large Rayfin, they walked back to camp, and Tridi went about preparing breakfast. An hour later, they cleared the camp and resumed a brisk pace, expecting to arrive in Braetling before nightfall. Along the banks of the Rayfin, it was colder than in the forest and the breeze stronger as it blew down from the high altitudes of the mountains and west along the length of the river. It was the height of spring, and the warmth of the sun complemented the cool breeze and made for perfect traveling weather.
Farther on, the river became less rocky and rapid. The Rayfins still jumped as they swam upstream to spawn, but the fish had more energy than they would when they reached the faster-moving water. Qel enjoyed the beauty of the sunlight sparkling like diamonds on the river and the wildlife that so often congregated along its shore. Because he spent so much time in the city or on his family estates in the country, the wilderness invoked a strange allure and mystery that he had never experienced before. Not to this extent anyway.
In the afternoon they stopped to rest the horses. Tridi pulled out his net again and gave Qel and Havacian a chance to fish up their own Rayfin while Aelrindel foraged for nuts and berries in the forest. The clean, fresh water was slow enough that they could strip down and wash in the river without fear of being swept away. The river was frigidly cold, but once his body acclimated, Qel enjoyed the swim. Havacian showed off his talents by dunking him with conjured waves, creating whirlpools and columns of water spinning here and there. Even the Elves were impressed, if also annoyed when he directed one at them.
They arrived at the village of Braetling just before sundown. At first, Qel was confused by what he was seeing. Elves were moving with purpose in one direction or another within the forest, disappearing into strange knots of foliage and cooking on open hearths in seemingly random clearings. And children ran and hid from one another, their innocent laughter echoing through the forest or playing games together in small groups. None of it made sense to the wizards until they were among the Elves and the details of the village became much clearer.
Qel was astonished.
The houses and public buildings were not constructed as much as they appeared to be grown. Each building was part of a tree or multiple trees depending on its size, yet there had been no cutting or shaping by tools of any kind. The tree trunks, branches, and thick vines molded themselves into the form of walls, ceilings, and floors of each structure. There was no clear boundary between village and forest. As far as Qel could determine, the houses and buildings camouflaged seamlessly at different elevations within the trees themselves and merged into the surrounding forest. In fact, not knowing the village was there, Qel might have passed it altogether if no one made a sound. Perhaps that was the point. The Elves had a symbiotic relationship with nature. They protected the forest, and the forest protected them.
Riding farther through the interior of the village, Qel observed how each home was personalized in a different way. Most had small gardens, some had small fountains or ponds, and others had play areas for children. In many ways, they were no different from the homes back in Atlantis.
“How do you manage to force the trees into the forms they take, and how long does it take to grow a dwelling?” Havacian asked Tridi. Qel’s inquisitive friend had also noted how the trees formed the homes they passed.
“The trees are not forced. Every year there are a few female Elves, chosen by Niamh, born with the talent to whisper their desire to the trees, and over the course of time, the trees grow into the desired forms. They are known as Traetling, or Tree Whisperers. Vnae is privileged to be among the few Elves with this gift.”
“I have never heard of anyone with that ability,” Qel commented, “not even in the Enclave.”
Tridi brushed the long dark hair away from his face. “Only a female elf can be born with this gift. No other species, anywhere.”
“Who is this Niamh that chooses them?” Qel asked, “An elder or leader of the Elves?”
Tridi looked at him with a mix of confusion and disbelief. “They really teach you nothing about us, do they? Niamh is the deity of nature and magic, goddess of the Elves. It is by her will that we exist.”
Qel felt his face heat from blushing. “I’m sorry, Tridi. I didn’t mean to offend . . .”
“You didn’t offend,” Aelrindel interrupted. “Tridi forgets that Elves and even Niamh herself have a sense of humor. You cannot be faulted for something you don’t know.”
The farther they rode into the village, the more apparent it became to Qel that it was much larger than he expected. Had it been a village in the Atlantean Territory, it would have been considered significant, if only a fraction the size of Aquilon. Each clearing they passed was surrounded by at least a dozen homes at various elevations, and each of those was connected to others at various points either on the ground or in the trees to form the greater expanse of the village. It was the time of day that families were preparing the evening meal on what were inherently communal outdoor kitchens located in the center of each clearing, and it was difficult to tell how it was organized for each family.
“Why don’t the villagers cook inside their homes?” Havacian asked Tridi.
“Each one of these clearings that we pass represents a micro-community within the village,” Tridi explained. “The preparation of meals is a community effort, not one that’s left to each family or individual. In addition, no elf would ever allow a flame within their home because of the nature of the structure. It is a living thing, not stones piled on top of each other like they do in your cities.”
“Then how do you keep warm in the winter?” Qel asked.
“The trees provide excellent insulation. Along with that we have a thick layer of furs on the floor and we can always freely request warmth globes from any of the magic-crafters in the village when it becomes particularly cold in the winter.”
“Magic-crafters?” Havacian asked.
“They are similar to what you define as a wizard in Atlantis.” Aelrindel turned in his saddle to face Havacian. “Like your Imperial Order of Wizards, the magic-crafters are sorcerers that develop their abilities from a young age and typically attend the Demesne of Magic in Avalon City.”
When they reached the center of the village, there were many small tree-grown buildings dedicated to various trades and mercantile as well as several larger structures whose use was not apparent, except for one—a tavern. Qel was looking forward to finding out what sort of drinks the Elves deep in the Sylvan Forest had to offer. Through the center of the village ran a narrow stream of clear water from the Rayfin on the northern outskirts of the village and stood several stands of fruit trees. Adjacent to the stream stood a wide-open space that was the only area not touched by trees and wild shrubbery. A tall sculpture, if Qel could call it that, created entirely of tightly woven living branches, leaves, and vines displayed the incredible lik
eness of a woman that Aelrindel identified as the goddess Niamh. Her stern likeness and beauty were evident in precise detail, which was astonishing considering the medium. Wildlife was abundant near the figure of the goddess. Small birds of every variety chirped and warbled from everywhere in the trees around them, and chipmunks ran here and there in pursuit of one another and danced from limb to limb. None of the villagers seemed to mind.
“There is a guest house in the community where my home is, not far on the other side of the plaza. The two of you may stay there while you are in Braetling. It will be more comfortable than staying at the tavern where the merchants from Atlantis and Tirnan Yog stop over. Not to mention that it is always noisy and crowded.” Tridi pointed to the busy tavern on the other side of the clearing.
The Elves frequenting the plaza were friendly and often waved and smiled when they passed. Tridi was evidently well-known and respected, receiving brief nods and even a few quick bows. It didn’t take long to reach the other side, and soon after that they arrived at Tridi’s home, where they dismounted. Immediately, Vnae ran out to meet them and hugged her husband tightly. Right on her heels was their daughter, the one they had rescued from the river the Ogre had thrown her into. She enthusiastically joined her mother in hugging her father happily, giggling the whole time. Vnae then kissed her brother on the cheek and greeted both Qel and Havacian with a warm hug.
Qel was amazed at the change in her demeanor. The last time they met, she was seething with anger and focused on one thing—her husband and brother tracking down the Ogre that nearly drowned her beautiful child. He supposed it was understandable and wondered if he would have acted any differently if it were his own child. Now that they returned to the village, she could only conclude that they accomplished her task.
“Vnae, I have asked the Atlanteans to join us for the evening meal, if you don’t object,” Tridi said.
“Of course I don’t.” She smiled happily. “I look forward to hearing your tale. Have you offered the guest house for their stay, husband?”
“I have, wife”—he kissed her on the cheek—“and I will take them now so they may rest and wash before we retrieve them later.”
“I will stay here with Vnae and Tolia and get a head start on washing up.” Aelrindel dismounted and led his horse over to the side of the house. “I’ll see you boys in a while.”
Qel and Havacian waved to the family and followed Tridi to the guest house. They led their horses past two homes in the same clearing and stopped in front of a winding set of stairs formed by heavy roots and branches. Tridi whistled, and a young elf boy appeared from the stables nearby to take their horses. “The boy’s name is PynterTacryniael; call him Pynter. If you need anything or have any questions, he will be more than happy to assist you.” Tridi pointed to the stairway. “Your rooms are up there. I hope you find them comfortable. I will be back for you before dark.”
After brief farewells, Qel and Havacian climbed the stairs to a door consisting of thick hanging vines and leaves. Effortlessly, Qel parted the vines, and the thought occurred to him how easy it would have been for the Ogres to enter the Elves’ homes if all their doors were this insecure. Even in the City of Atlantis, the doors were stout and fitted with locks or bars. Inside, the guest house was surprisingly spacious. There were two separate bedrooms with comfortable mats atop a frame that was formed from the tree itself. Qel marveled at the detail. There was also a sitting room and another small room attached with a large water basin composed from the tree and big enough to sit in and bathe. It took Qel a little time and experimentation, but soon he determined that if he manipulating the position of individual branches, they would release cold and warm water. It was one of the most peculiar things he had ever seen.
Later that evening, Qel and Havacian joined Tridi’s family for the evening meal in the clearing surrounded by the residences. There were long stone tables and boulders that served as chairs that Qel had not noticed before. The furnishings were completely overgrown with ivy, which obscured their purpose, and initially he assumed they were oddly placed hedges. The community prepared a beautiful presentation of boar, cheeses, a selection of fruits, fresh greens from their gardens, and a local Sylvan fruit wine. They sat together at the end of one of the long tables with their Elven friends and little Tolia while the rest of the community found their places all around them in loose groups of families and friends.
“Is it always like this?” Qel asked Vnae. Children were playing and sometimes eating, and there were lively conversations filled with jokes and stories and lots of laughter. Once in a while one elf or another would stand and sing a short tune or recite a limerick, and good or bad, there would always be wild applause. The little community visibly cared about one another and lived happily together.
“Oh yes,” Vnae smiled. “You should see us when we get together with some of the nearby communities. Or worse yet, during the summer solstice when the whole village comes together to give thanks to Niamh.”
Tridi had already told Vnae the short version of their meeting with the Ogres, and she seemed satisfied enough with the results. While they sat together over the meal, Qel and Havacian took turns relating the details from their perspective, including how frightened they were confronting the monsters, Qel’s agitation at Aelrindel’s unexpected lack of concern when more Ogres showed up, and how the Tree Guardians nearly made them jump out of their skins. Everyone enjoyed a good laugh.
“I’m curious to know how the Tree Guardians came about. The first time we saw them was at the border near Aquilon, but they were less obvious. Are there many of them in the Sylvan Forest?” Havacian asked Aelrindel.
The elf appeared surprised at the question. “Have you never heard of our forest protectors? They are creations of our Elder enchanters with some involvement of the druids. Great care is taken to grow them from small saplings with many sessions of various enchantments before they are the right age to begin their work as protectors of the Sylvan Forest.” The elf paused to take a sip of the fruit wine. “It takes nearly a hundred years to grow one fully, and I couldn’t begin to tell you how many there are. The only thing I am sure of is that they never leave the Sylvan Forest and will always come to the aid of an elf in need. We call them Tree Guardians because that is their purpose.”
After the meal, they spent a few hours talking before Qel and Havacian returned to the guest house for a much-needed night of rest. Walking the short distance to the guest house, the village was quiet except for the usual night sounds from the forest. Many lights were present from several of the tree homes they passed, and Qel was pleased to note what appeared to be a Fairy habitation in the forest at the northern edge of the cul-de-sac. On this clear, crisp evening, he could see the bright sparkle of stars through the break in the trees, and he almost felt like he was home.
Over the next few days, Qel became more familiar with the Elves and their village. To his delight, Tridi and Aelrindel spent more time teaching them the ways of the forests and survival techniques in the wilderness. And every day, without fail, Qel kept up with the crucial lessons provided by Traegarlin, the Battle Wizard. He was noticing small increments of progress every day: a little faster cast, stronger potency, and better insights when performing combinations. Most importantly, he felt himself growing and becoming more confident.
“Are all the villages in Avalon like this one?”
“More or less, with the exception of Andlang, which is much more like Aquilon considering it is our only international port.” Qel was walking with Aelrindel through the forest, collecting walnuts for a red berry pie that Vnae was making that afternoon. “Even Avalon City itself is very much like the villages except on a much grander scale. You would be impressed by the scale and beauty of the palace complex where the royal family resides. It is the oldest living structure in all of Avalon, self-renewing and always growing.”
“When will you be returning to the city?” Qel asked.
“In a week or two. You and Havacian are
welcome to travel with me if you like.”
“That might be a good idea. And not just because you would keep us from getting lost,” Qel quickly added. “We also enjoy your company.”
“As I do yours,” Aelrindel responded with a smile. A smile that Qel was sure was genuine, and he had a feeling that he and these Elves that he had known only a couple of weeks were fated to be friends for the rest of their lives.
~~~
The morning of their departure was a little emotional for Qel. He enjoyed his stay in Braetling and had become familiar with the Elves of the community who lived there. Most importantly, he had developed a bond with little Tolia. Qel would think fondly about the games they played, her squeals of delight when she won, and most of all her tender hugs before she scurried off to bed every night. He had never thought about having children before now, and he fervently hoped that one day he would meet the right woman and have many of them.
“It’s time to go, Qel,” Havacian said quietly from the doorway of his room. Qel was lost in his thoughts and appreciated his friend’s subtle vocal nudge so as not to startle him. With a nod, he picked up the packs that were sitting at his feet, loaded with his clothing and supplies, and followed Havacian out of the guest house.
“There you are,” Aelrindel spoke jovially from the clearing where he stood smiling with Tridi, Vnae, and Tolia. “I thought maybe you boys decided to sleep in today.”
The sun was only a few minutes past dawn, and already the village was alive with activity. And it wasn’t just the Elves going about their business, but the forest that was teeming with wildlife so present around them. Qel would miss waking to the pleasant chatter of birds, the patter of chipmunks running along the branches that formed the roofs, and the daily occurrence of deer drinking, without a hint of fear, from the stream that ran through the village.
“It’s not easy leaving this wilderness paradise,” said Havacian, “but we are looking forward to seeing Avalon City.”
