by Greg Curtis
“What are they doing?” Esille whispered it at him from the far side of the line, confused but thankfully not worried, but then with the ancients’ magic, they had no reason for fear.
“Taking up positions to watch over the meeting. They mean you no harm but they must protect the elders. It is their most sacred duty, and no matter my intent I’m always a dark elf first to them.”
The sound of many more hooves pounding the hard dirt of the trail prevented them from saying any more as the rest of the party came into view, and they were a formidable group. The rest of the rangers escorting them quickly peeled off to take up positions all around them, as the well trained warriors they were, but it was the spellcasters and elders and the magic that flowed around them that was really impressive. They had not come unprepared, and one at least of the spellcasters was a master of fire. She could incinerate the entire clearing, people house, gardens and all in a matter of heartbeats. Happily she did no such thing.
Instead the six of them slowed their horses to a walk, and approached them carefully, the elder in the lead with his right hand in the air in a formal greeting. Naturally Alan did the same.
“Hail.”
“Well met.” It was a traditional enough greeting made only difficult by the number of armed people all around and the enmity Alan suddenly felt towards these elves, but he mastered his emotions as he had all his life and even managed a small bow to the elders. His guests pointedly did not, but then he had advised them not to. They were ancients, their station as such was above that of the elders themselves, and it was important that all were aware of that from the beginning.
“You would be Alan Feralis boy?” At least it didn’t sound like a threat when the elder said it, but neither did it sound particularly welcoming. It was more as though the elder was greeting a complete stranger of little importance.
“I would be Elder.” Once more Alan managed a small bow, ignoring the slight on his nature as the elder called him a boy. But then the elder might well be two hundred or more, and he looked it as he dismounted gingerly. Regardless of his magic and learning, to him Alan was but a boy, and no doubt an annoying one at that. The rest did not look that much younger.
“Your copper is dark but your soul is clean.” It was a judgement and even though Alan had been the one so judged and without reason he was relieved by it, especially when the tension all around them seemed to lessen. He had been judged harmless and while that was not necessarily something to be proud of, it was useful. The guards he noticed, didn’t ease off with their weapons; all still standing at the ready.
“Your request has been granted. The words you have given us to speak have been spoken far, and those among our people who have killed those of dark copper skin without cause, have been asked to face justice. Half a dozen have come forward so far, and all have been judged.” His request? One thing the elder wasn’t about to do was admit that they’d needed his help and owed him a debt because of it, but in the end that didn’t matter. Not if he’d done as he said, and Alan believed him. Elves were unfailingly honest.
“I thank you Elder.” He even managed a small bow to him, mere politeness but it was deserved.
“Tell me of your companions.” The elder he noticed, paid him no respect, but then why should he, and Alan paid his manner little mind in turn. Soon this mess would be behind him and he would never have to face the elf again.
“Certainly Elder. To my left is Dava Falconer and beside him his wife Narinne Falconer, their daughter Esille Falconer and niece Ashiel Longfeather Falconer. All of them are ancients and powerful spellcasters from the days before the elves and the other peoples walked the lands. They have kindly agreed to lend their considerable talents to the coming troubles.” Each of them in turn managed a small nod to the elder, but not a bow, though whether the elder noticed that or cared Alan wasn’t completely sure. The elder was good at masking his emotions.
“As your message said and we will be grateful for whatever aid they can give us. I am Alber Nightfrond, Elder among the elves of Soolleni Woods, and these are my companions, Elders Thoria Saffa and Petreise Elmglow, and first spellcasters Masters Hara Solfire, Sava Reace and Ermin Leaffold.” Each of them nodded in turn though not to Alan but rather to his guests, and Alan barely had a chance to notice anything about them let alone remember their names. But he did notice that it was Thoria Saffa, a fairly old spellcaster in her own right as well as an elder who was the master of fire, and that she still stared at him suspiciously through her strangely pale green eyes. There was something about those eyes that disturbed him, possibly intentionally and he knew it was she that posed him the greatest danger. Still there were other formalities to be attended to before he could worry about such things.
“It is an honour to meet you all. But perhaps before we must speak of less pleasant matters, we could share a small repast. After all the light of the Sky Father bathes us all in its glory and the embrace of the Earth Mother keeps us warm and safe this day, surely this is a time to celebrate the meeting of new friends.” It was all pure formality and Alan meant not a word of it; he would far rather have had these elves off his land and enjoyed the peace, but it had to be said, and said well. The last thing they could afford now was to upset an elder.
“It is as you say.” The elder nodded all but imperceptibly to him in agreement, and with only a slight reluctance allowed him to guide him to his seat along with his companions. Meanwhile Alan had gestured for his newest elementals - quicksilvers - to start serving the food and they strode out to them with platters loaded with food and plates for his guests. Excellent food too if his nose was anything to go by.
The quicksilvers aroused some minor concern when they appeared, but Alan had carefully crafted them not to frighten, and so each of them was barely five feet tall, of thin build and careful not to move too quickly. That didn’t stop the spellcasters especially from staring intently at them. Most of them would never have seen elemental magic like his, and he had to admit the quicksilvers were strange creations as they half walked and half flowed while they carried out their duties. But they weren’t able to ask their inevitable questions just then, that was the elders’ prerogative, and they had to settle for taking their seats in silence and watching.
The food when it arrived took most thoughts of business away from his guests and replaced them with hunger. The women were more than gifted in the kitchen, and the spiced breads with rabbit and berry, the fresh garden vegetables with an orange dipping sauce, and the cheese board quickly had mouths watering. The moment the first elder dipped a carrot stick in the orange butter sauce and then popped it in his mouth there was almost a stampede.
Little was said for a while after that as everyone concentrated on eating and drinking and the quicksilvers brought out the cauldrons of hot water and started pouring them in to the cups already set out and filled with tea, and it seemed to Alan for a while that things were going more smoothly then he’d expected. All the time however, he couldn’t help but notice how closely Elder Saffa’s eyes watched him, assessing him. There was something uncomfortable in that.
Still, it gave Alan the chance to study his guests more closely, and that was something he’d never been able to do before. In fact he’d scarcely even seen an elf before, let alone sat down and dined with one. The reality was somehow different to what he’d expected.
Somehow he’d always imagined them to be terrible people. To hate him on sight, to want to kill him. Yet the elves seated all around him and even those still standing watch over them gave no sign of any hatred for him, nor any wish to cause him harm. In fact they seemed to be too busy eating to worry too much about one dark elf sitting at the table beside them. If anything they merely seemed to think him a lesser being than them, maybe even something distasteful, like a piece of something offensive that one would scrape off one’s shoe. Perhaps it should have been a relief, but instead it disturbed him in a way he couldn’t fully understand. They had caused him to hide all his life, to liv
e in fear. They had killed his mother’s people without mercy, and sent the rest into hiding, and all that simply out of disdain? That was simply too evil.
Yet there was nothing he could do about it Alan realised. He had made his deal with them, brought their evil out in to the light, and maybe stopped the slaughter of his mother’s people, and while the elder still had not said anything about it Alan was sure he would have kept his side of the bargain, it was his honour after all. Anger, retribution, justice, even apologies, all of those things would have to wait for another day. Moreover, they weren’t his to ask for. He was only one, and only half dark elf at that. He had not suffered as had too many others. In time his mother’s people if they were fortunate and brave enough to be able to come out into the open and rebuild their homes and their lives would have to ask those for themselves.
Nor did they seem as frightening as he’d imagined. The elders and the spellcasters were powerful as he’d expected, but not that much more powerful than him, least of all in war. Elder Saffa’s ability with fire was clearly far beyond his, but then he wasn’t a fire mage. As for the others, Master Solfire was a master of the natural realm and his talent might or might not have exceeded Alan’s, but if so not by much. Mistress Reace’s gift was in weather and she could surely outshine him in that, but the calling of weather while a useful skill was a poor weapon in a battle. And Master Leaffold’s calling was in the physical realm and though he could probably open up huge lava filled craters under his feet and equip an army with powerfully spelled armour and weapons, he was no battlemage.
None of them could summon elementals, perhaps his most powerful skill in battle, and he suspected that only Master Solfire could shape change, if that was even within his purview. Master Solfire could also summon an army of forest dwelling creatures against him if need be as could the elders, but then he could do the same given time.
It came as a surprise to him, but Alan slowly realised that even in this august company, he was a powerful mage and a force to be reckoned with. That pleased him even as he knew it was a prideful mistake to make. His parents had always said he was gifted, that he had more ability than any others they knew, but he had never quite believed them, and until now he had never had anyone to measure himself against. Now suddenly, sitting in front of him was the evidence, and though it was unworthy, he liked it.
Of course the Huron outshone them all.
It was with such unworthy thoughts circling through his mind that Alan eventually became aware that the meal was ending, if only because despite all the women’s hard work, they were running out of food. Six elders and spellcasters could eat a lot, and they were more than matched by their escort who were busy devouring everything in sight at the next table. Soon Alan knew, it would be time to discuss business, and that still troubled him, if only because while he didn’t quite know what his guests were looking for, he doubted it was what the elves were after. Still, nothing could be resolved until that problem was out in the open. His plate empty he pushed it in to the centre of the table and concentrated on sipping on his tea until the others were ready to move on. It didn’t take long as the elders ran out of food and reluctantly did the same.
“That was a truly excellent meal. Thank you boy.”
“I am pleased that you enjoyed it Elder, but I cannot take the praise for it. The Honoured Ancients Narinne, Esille and Ashiel prepared the food, while all I have done is to enjoy it. They are truly gifted in the kitchen as well as in magic.” He nodded to them and to the elder, feeling the need to admit the truth. It was best there be no deceptions in the discussions ahead, no matter how slight.
“Then we are doubly indebted to them for their masterful way with a meal as well as the help we hope they may be able to grant us in the difficult times ahead.”
“And we in turn will be happy to aid you however we may. We owe Alan here an enormous debt for awakening us from our all but eternal rest and granting us some shelter and good company this past week. But first we must know more of what threatens you. I hope that you have brought some of that knowledge with you.” Dava had finally asserted himself as the leader of the group and that was as it should be. Alan had no standing in this matter, even in his own home, and he couldn’t have commanded anything from the elders. It would have been considered impertinent for him to have even asked.
“We have. Elder Saffa here is a historian and one of our most learned scholars on the time of the reformation of the last Great Council. And though the writings from so long ago are few, she has brought with her some copies of the journals of Ascollia, Feylon and Trista which we hope will aid you.” Even as he spoke the elder stood up and dragged out three small leather clad tomes from the carry bag beside her and placed them on the table in front of them.
Alan stared at them for a while, knowing that those three volumes were probably three of the most precious works in existence, the originals all but destroyed, their remains kept in the great Library of Phell within the city of Heartsong, the province of the high elves, and all of them sitting on his crude stone table. In all his life he would probably never get to see let alone read such important works again, and a part of him simply wanted to grab them and start reading. But they weren’t for him.
“Thank you Elder, we will read them with interest. It is good to know that at least some of our countrymen were able to help our descendants in their time of need and we hope to be able to do the same.”
“As we also hope. Perhaps when you have made your new home in the Soolleni Woods you will be better able to advise as to what you can do and how we may help you.” Alan was stunned by the elder’s words. The very idea that an elder would offer to assist another seemed like moon madness. They just didn’t do that.
“Forgive us Elder but we are new to this world and we have not yet decided where we will make our home.” The elder’s face seemed to freeze as Dava said that, and there was a sudden silence among all the elves.
“For the present however, Alan here has offered us the comfort of his own home and I believe we will be accepting his kind offer for a while longer.” You could almost feel the chill as despite the sun being high in the sky, it seemed a shadow fell across them all. All except Alan of course, who was trying to keep from laughing out loud.
“If that is acceptable to you young Alan.” Dava turned to him, and Alan suspected he knew every one of the unworthy thoughts running through his head, and was laughing with him.
“Of course Dava. You and your family are most welcome in my home for as long as you wish to stay.” He bowed as was proper, and for once actually intended the respect it afforded the ancient wizard. Not because of his age or power, but simply because of the rare pleasure he was granting him as he rubbed the elves’ faces in their own pride. It was unworthy perhaps, but it felt so good.
He wondered if the elves realised that. Actually they were good at reading souls so of course they knew. It was really just a question of how much they hated him just at that moment.
A lot, he hoped.
Chapter Five.
The man was careful. Alan had to give him that. And he had prepared well. He had a cloak of invisibility to mask his image and carefully spelled boots to leave no trace of his passing and make no sound. He even knew to approach from downwind so as not to let his scent give him away. More than that, he had waited, patiently, for half a day until Alan’s guests had left on their errands, completely unaware of him. That sort of caution and preparedness, it spoke of one very skilled in the art of concealment, and there were only two professions in the world that used such techniques.
The first were rogues of course, thieves and spies. But he was not one of them. He was of the other profession, an assassin. Even if Alan couldn’t have felt the darkness of his soul, and it was stained so dark that it was hard to see if there had ever once been light there, even if he couldn’t have read the murderous intent behind his thoughts, he could feel him concentrating on his target. And it was him, not his property that the man was
focussed on. For easily six long hours the man had been intent on him, studying him as a cat studied a mouse, waiting patiently until his guests had left on their carpet, waiting until Alan had found the perfect position for him to attack. Then, and only then, had he begun creeping closer and closer, his thoughts always torn between nervousness as he looked intently for the first sign that he had been seen, and murder as he saw his chance getting closer with every careful step.
But Alan wouldn’t give him that chance, and as he stretched out on the bench in the garden, looking completely relaxed, he was really just waiting patiently for the man to come in to range, his swords at the ready. The hunter was about to be eaten by a much more dangerous prey.
The hardest part about it all in truth was the waiting. He hated waiting. But he needed the man to come within range before he sprung his trap. Too soon and the man would run, and he would have to use his magic to hold him. Not good when he was looking forward to a good sword fight. Too late and the man might actually be on him before he could draw his swords. That probably wouldn’t end well. So, as he lay there feigning sleep while he waited, he had to control his nerves.
