The Revenge of the Elves

by Gary Alan Wassner

  “Hopeful?” Rose asked. “I get the chills each time she reads that poem. What is hopeful about any of this?” Rose’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

  “The Tomes are meant to make you think, sister,” Bethany replied. “Yes, these are just words. It’s the meaning that lies within their juxtaposition we seek.” She peered at the big book through glassy eyes.

  “But thinking alone is not enough,” Emmeline agreed. “The poem is emotional as well, but it’s not the stirring of the emotions that makes this passage meaningful.”

  “Choices, choices, choices! Constantly we’re reminded of our choices!” Jocasta said, shaking her head. “As if they are really ours to make.”

  “Is every moment of your life not rife with choice, sister? I’m overwhelmed sometimes by even the simple ones,” Rose said. She was the most indecisive of them all. Each determination she made was painstaking.

  “Yes, but we can’t possibly be expected to mull and ponder over every one of our actions,” Sevilla said. “We would never get even a moment’s work done. Rose, you worry too much. These days if you let it, even the slightest action seems to take on new meaning.”

  “I worry too much? I don’t think you worry enough,” she replied, and blushed behind her hand.

  “It’s the big choices the passage is referring to. Not the mundane ones. We all know when those loom before us,” Dahlia said.

  “Most of the time, we do,” Jocasta agreed.

  “There are times though, when we do not even know we are making choices,” Gretchen said.

  “Have we control over those moments?” Rose asked. “I have a hard enough time when I do know.” She twirled a lock of hair between two fingers.

  “Some responses are instinctual, others are learned,” Emmeline replied. “We hope we have learned over time to instinctually behave concordant with our moral and ethical beliefs. We are doing so now by harboring the heir and his teachers,” Emmeline added, though she didn’t need to remind them of this. Their admittance to the Tower was a daring move. “It’s right. We know it’s right.”

  “Exactly, sister,” Gretchen agreed. “Our thoughts travel down similar paths. It wasn’t a conscious choice on our part to afford them shelter. It was natural. We made a choice, though we didn’t discuss it, nor did we seek a verbal consensus.”

  “You think this passage relates to that?” Dahlia asked. “To the options we face here in the tower and the choices we have made already? To the heir and his teachers?”

  “Does not the tower seem ‘safe’ to him and his friends?” Gretchen continued on the same track. “The question is, what has he ‘come here to borrow’, if it’s the heir these words are referring to?”

  “Surely it must be. He is here for our knowledge, perhaps? Or his safety? Could that be it?” Rose suggested.

  “Anonymity?” Dahlia proposed.

  “Time?” Sevilla said. “A respite.”

  “Certainly not the map any longer,” Jocasta said. “At least I hope not.”

  “We must question him regarding his dreams,” Bethany said. “Perhaps then we will understand what advice we should provide. If indeed he came here for the map, he would tell us.”

  “And then what? It’s gone already,” Dahlia said, an absence they all felt.

  “I agree with Bethany,” Rose said. “What harm could it do? Just as we reason our way through words that often seem confusing, so must we reason our way through their actions.”

  “Reason? We haven’t reasoned through anything,” Bethany said, and Rose blanched. “We have come to no conclusions. We know we have choices to make. We know the Dark One seeks to confound us whenever and wherever he can.” A fit of coughing interrupted her words. Dahlia started to rise but Bethany glared at her and it subsided. “What more can we add to our guests’ knowledge by virtue of this passage? Think, sisters. Think.”

  “‘Of brothers and sisters, who will emerge’,” Emmeline repeated.

  “Of the twins and us?” Rose asked. “Is that what it means?” she sunk lower in her seat.

  “That seems most logical,” Emmeline replied. “Of the captive and the free? Premoran?” she asked. “He is free once more.”

  “Of the old and the newborn? Could this be referring to the Lalas and the youngling?” Gretchen suggested.

  “I had not thought of that,” Bethany said. “Hmmm. Of course! It must! Good. Good, Gretchen. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Her face brightened.

  “What of the land and the sea? We are all of the land,” Dahlia asked, confused.

  “There are those who live across the oceans,” Sevilla suggested. “Could it be that they may join the fight?”

  “The oceans are vast. Perhaps a hero will be swept unto our shores,” Dahlia said and her eyes lit up.

  “We have the heir in our midst. Need we wish for more saviors?” Gretchen replied.

  “Not every sentence can make sense to us at once,” Bethany wagged her finger. “It is obvious to me, though, that this passage is of major importance. It can’t be mere coincidence we find relevance in so many of the lines.”

  “What, though, must we make of the word ‘betrayal’? Who among us would ever betray the boy?” Rose recoiled. The thought astonished her.

  “It states, sister, ‘what appears a betrayal’. Not what ‘is’ a betrayal,” Bethany corrected her. Her voice lacked the strength it usually had. “Someone has made a choice that seems unusual. Someone has done something that does not coincide with what is expected of them. It appears to be a harsh action, or a mean one…” Bethany continued.

  “And it conceals the truth,” Gretchen added. “But from whom?”

  “Yes, from whom? It is clearly a truth that is of great consequence. Enormous,” Emmeline repeated the word from the text.

  Bethany concurred.

  “‘Those chosen to guide us’ can only be the bonded ones,” Rose said.

  “What of the Queen of Avalain? Or the Elfin Kings?” Jocasta suggested. “They are leaders worthy of being acknowledged.”

  “They were not chosen really, though they do lead and they do guide their people,” Dahlia pondered.

  “We were all picked. What about us?” Rose suggested, then immediately tucked her chin into her chest and went silent.

  “Hmmmm,” Bethany replied. “Perhaps…”

  “I believe we know who the boy is. But, what of the man? Is it Robyn dar Tamarand, do you suppose?” Sevilla asked.

  “We’re not even sure Davmiran is the boy the passage speaks of. He has a brother, if you recall?” Jocasta reminded her.

  “So we know very little, other than that what seems to be is otherwise, and what seems to be is masking something incredibly important!” Dahlia summed it up.

  “We must question our guests. There is no other alternative. If we are to advise them, we must understand more. We have that right,” Gretchen concluded.

  “And we have the obligation,” Emmeline added. “We should not waste another moment.” She smiled warmly at the elderly sister. “Amidst the thousands of pages, you have discovered the one that is most relevant. I will approach the Chosen and arrange a meeting.”

  Bethany closed the great book and stiffened, her face unsatisfied.

  Gretchen walked to her side and placed her hand upon her shoulder.

  “Are you feeling alright?” she whispered into her ear.

  “Yes, sister,” she replied. “I’ve been a little weary of late, and I’ve not been sleeping well.” She cupped her hand and spoke below a whisper. “This passage has been in my dreams, yet when I feel I’m coming near to its meaning, I almost feel the presence of the Dark One intrude upon it!” Bethany lay her hand atop the Tomes as if seeking comfort in its touch. “It must be that winter is approaching. As I get older, I find it more difficult to contemplate the cold weather.”

  “I remember the days when we all frolicked in the snow,” Gretchen said, though her concern for Bethany became far more acute when she mentioned Colton. “Do you re
call the winter when the snow fell for days and days on end? As soon as we cleared the paths, they were covered over again,” she said, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Those were such innocent times,” Rose sighed.

  “Do I hear regrets?” Emmeline asked. She could not let them despair. Her shoulders bore many things in the past, and even more now.

  “Not regrets, sister. I doubt any here regret the part they must play in what is occurring today. But we’re no longer the innocents we were,” Jocasta said.

  “No. That is certain. Our responsibilities are greater now. We must face them accordingly,” Gretchen replied. “But, we mustn’t impose too much upon our eldest. I fear we tire her out with our demands.”

  “Do not fret over me,” she said. “I may appear to be weak, but this is my life’s work! If you did not call upon me now when the need is so strong, I would be quite upset. ‘What is this life for?’,” she echoed the first line of the poem. “I need a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”

  “And you shall have it!” Gretchen slammed her palm on the table and stood up. “We can question the heir and his friends when Bethany is more refreshed. She has already brought our attention to the passage. Though her insights are profound, we won’t be analyzing the Tomes any further tonight.”

  “It is now up to our guests to provide us with their perceptivity,” Emmeline agreed. “Rose? Would you escort Bethany to her chamber?” Emmeline asked. “After such praiseworthy work, she deserves a respite from our questions.”

  Rose walked to Bethany’s side and assisted her out of her chair. Of all the sisters, Rose’s propensity for healing had developed the fastest, and Bethany was in dire need of her services.

  “You must summon me when you question them. Promise me that. I shall get no sleep otherwise,” Bethany demanded of Emmeline and Gretchen together.

  “Surely we shall, sister. We shall,” Emmeline replied. “Now get some rest,” she said sternly.

  “I want your pledge. Promise me,” Bethany insisted, resisting Rose’s efforts to lead her out. “I have questions for the boy.”

  “I promise,” Emmeline swore, cutting off her words, and Bethany looked to Gretchen.

  “Yes, yes. I promise too. Now go before you collapse right here on the floor.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  He leapt from the saddle and landed square upon both of his feet. The ground was uneven. He touched the surface lightly, despite the speed with which his mount was traveling, cushioned by pillows of air. His pace was inconsistent with the frenetic movements of his horse, yet he stood there before his opponent, sword drawn and ready. He looked to his teacher.

  “Not bad, Dav,” Filaree came as close to giving him a compliment as she ever did. “Your balance was much better this time.” She stepped over one of the obstacles scattered around the training ground. None surpassed Filaree Par D’Avalain when it came to sword play and one to one combat. She had taught him how to remain centered under the most trying of circumstances, and how to use that focus to insulate himself from the extraneous effects of his opponent and the environment. His ability to manipulate the physical forces around him only enhanced her training.

  “You must be aware of so much when you fight. There are no second chances in battle. Though a lot will become instinctual with time, as you have already discovered for yourself, the inner eye must first be trained to see. The elements of victory are there for you, Dav. You must find them in each encounter.”

  Filaree wasn’t a large woman. Yet, her strength and agility were a match for any adversary. Davmiran, too, wasn’t a large or muscular boy, but he was now confident such characteristics were not singularly important. He was very strong, despite his fragile appearance. His muscles were toned through weeks of exercise, and Cairn’s constant training taught him how to intensify his own physical power, and thus enhance it exponentially.

  “You can let her breathe,” Filaree said.

  Davmiran dropped the sharp tip of his sword from Rella’s throat.

  “I’m sorry, sister,” he said. She’d been standing there all this while.

  “No need to apologize. I should have been quicker. If this were real, I’d be dead now. That’s the issue, isn’t it? The one that counts.” Rella bent and wiped the sweat from her hands on the legs of her trousers. Reaching for the reins of her horse she asked, “Another round?”

  Rella wasn’t alone among the sisters in her aptitude for physical combat, but she was the best. When they were called upon to defend the Tower, she would lead them, sword in hand. Now she swung her leg over the saddle, and within moments, sat erect and ready on her horse. Davmiran, too, climbed on his horse’s back so easily he made the sixteen hands high animal seem a pony.

  “How would you have us begin this time, Filaree?” he asked. His clothes were scarcely disheveled and his hair was still neatly tied behind his head despite the three grueling hours of training he’d already put in this morning.

  “Turn your backs to one another and walk twenty paces,” she instructed. “Now, shut your eyes and keep them shut. Maneuver your way around the outer edge of the area in whatever direction you choose. The point is to avoid the other. Use all your senses, but keep your eyes closed. If you open them, you lose,” Filaree ordered. Rella began surveying the area with her senses while Filaree continued to explain the rules. “Should one of you touch the other, or should your horse touch the other’s horse, dismount immediately, both of you. The first to draw his or her blade and raise it within five inches of the other, will be the victor,” she explained. “No blood can be drawn. Not a drop. Remember, when your blade is unsheathed, point it with great care.”

  The circle was fifty paces in diameter. They each stood at the very edge opposite one another.

  “When you’re ready, raise your right hand.”

  Filaree unfolded a stool and sat upon it in the middle of the circle.

  Their horses pranced in place, reined in tight. Rella’s arm shot up followed by Davmiran’s.

  Filaree said, “Begin.”

  Davmiran didn’t move. He felt the air wafting over the back of his arms. The breeze came from behind him. His scent would be upon it. He envisioned the battlefield, listening to the sounds the wind, or its absence, generated, isolating them; finding the cause of each, a tilted chair, a boulder, a stack of harnesses. The noises bounced off of his eardrums, and he circumscribed the space like an animal with nocturnal radar, forming images in his mind. He breathed in silence, and from the scents and changes in the air’s density that even the slightest movements created, he precisely defined the space. With closed eyes, he saw all he needed to. It had become so much more than visual experience. But he knew Rella was as adept as he was, if not even a slight bit better, at this same exercise. He’d have to neutralize his disadvantage right away.

  Rella tilted her head to the left and turned it so that her right ear was open to the wind. She heard Davmiran’s horse’s tail swish, and his location revealed itself. She focused her hearing, listening with both ears independent of one another. That had been so hard to learn, but now she mastered it. She absorbed the sounds instead of interpreting them, and responded to them without the cerebral processing that would bog down her response and slow her actions. Until Filaree had taught her this, the mental translation of the physical experience dominated her choices.

  A brush of air grazed her cheek. Her nostrils flared. The flow of pine scent from the trees on the far side of the circle was interrupted. His location crystallized in her mind’s eye. She eased her horse to the left, leaning in that direction and pressing her right knee and thigh against its side, just a slight touch.

  As it turned, Dav’s nose became filled with the animal’s smell. He knew where it was going. He stepped forward instead of away.

  With one ear, Rella heard the grass bend, and with the other, an echo; a space opened up on the opposite side of the circle. He’d moved. She backed her horse toward the middle of the battlefield.

/>   Davmiran stood perfectly still. He held his breath and placed his left hand on the side of his horse’s neck, relaxing it. It’s breath slowed and it was calm. Rella’s horse bent its right rear leg and gave away her location as completely as if she had spoken aloud. Dav swung around. The dust rose around his horse’s hocks.

  Rella felt the weight shift, the tremor in the ground, the muffled sound through the settling particles. The breeze changed. It came from her left. Anticipating Davmiran’s response to her horse’s movement even before he took a step, she spun in the opposite direction and bolted forward. Her animal’s flank stood sideways against the perimeter of trees, escaping his mental scrutiny once more.

  Davmiran faced her square on, but unsure of her location. He leaned to the left and lost his focus. Level with the trees as she was, the wind blowing across her and away from him, he couldn’t piece together the sensations into a coherent image. He thought he reacted to her movement but she had outwitted him. With the trees silhouetting her, she was better than invisible.

  He stepped forward. The vibrations were too dense. He realized it, but it was too late. His horse nuzzled hers.

  They leapt from their saddles according to the rules of the exercise, but Rella was waiting and her sword was already drawn before the tip of Davmiran’s cleared its sheath. She thrust it out to within five inches of his chest.

  “Stop!” Filaree shouted from her seat. “Remove the blindfolds.”

  Twenty-eight

  “We must send whatever reinforcements we can to his aid. Eleutheria will never again sit idly by when its friends are threatened,” King Whitestar said to his wife. He’d learned what denial could cost and vowed not to repeat his past mistakes.

  “Friends? The Baron of Tamarand is an ally of ours?” she asked.

  “Anyone who has not embraced Caeltin is an ally! Until the Gem is found, you must remember that,” he snapped. He loved Emerial but she was mired in the old rivalries and the old ways. It dismayed him that she still believed, after all that had happened, that Eleutheria could survive on its own, apart from the rest of the world. Had she learned nothing? “The sides have been chosen and none can remain neutral any longer. Either we are on the same side or we are on opposite ones. There is no middle ground.” It took Alemar’s courage to teach him that. And Kalon’s death.