by Ren Curylo
He showered and dressed in his standard black and grey Chikandi uniform. He wanted to be up and out of here before anyone came asking him for advice. He found that the time he spent here with his Envoy was tedious and boring. He, by far, preferred the company of the mortals, the Fae, and the other races on Lerien. He hated being cooped up on Na Réaltaí.
He heard a knock on the door as he pulled his second boot on. He glanced at the door and briefly considered answering before deciding against it. He had put off checking on those Elves far too long as it was, he couldn’t let anything distract him now. He Traveled, disappearing from his room on Na Réaltaí to become solid in the area on Lerien near where the Elves’ colony was located.
Ársa went the rest of the way invisible so he wouldn’t attract any attention in case others were lurking nearby. He also wanted a chance to observe the Elves without their knowledge, in order to gauge how things were progressing with them.
He was pleased with what he found when he reached their colony, though it was only half the size he expected it to be. They had done a fine job of building their new homes and setting things up much the same as they had been in the old world. But why is their colony so small? Surely, if they had experienced a plague or something catastrophic, someone on my Envoy would have informed me.
Seeing an elder he knew, Ársa decided it was time to make his presence known. He stepped, now visible, into the Elves’ grove and hailed the elder. “Good day, Enric,” Ársa said with a wave and a slight bow of respect.
Enric was the oldest Elf Ársa had ever seen. He had known him for centuries. Elves aged quite slowly, but they did age as they lived, unlike Ársa and his Envoy, who did not. The Elves, over millennia, would slowly look older, until they died with many, many centuries of life behind them.
“Ársa,” Enric greeted with surprise. “I hadn’t expected to see you again. It’s been so long, we wondered if something befell you.”
Ársa laughed. “I am hale and hearty as you can see,” he said. “How goes it here with your people?”
“We are doing wonderfully well, Ársa,” Enric said. “We couldn’t have asked for a better spot to start anew.”
“I’m glad to hear it, but your numbers seem to be down a bit from what I remember.” A movement caught Ársa’s eye and he looked up to see a group of lovely Elfish maidens walking past. They were all dressed in a similar fashion and they were all stunningly beautiful as only Elfish women can be, but one among the group of a half-dozen young women stood out for her extraordinary beauty even among the Elves. She had silvery blonde hair, straight as any perfect plank. Her eyes were pale, watery blue, almost silver, a mere hint darker than her hair. Her skin was translucently white, as pale as the finest pearl. Her beauty was cold and perfect and the briefest sight of her gave Ársa the desire to warm this woman. She glanced at him curiously but quickly dismissed him to turn back to her friends and continue their conversation. She laughed and talked with them, but something in her demeanor remained distant.
The group of them was a good distance away before Ársa realized that Enric was speaking to him. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Ársa asked, turning his attention back to the old Elf.
Enric laughed. “I see you got a glimpse of our beautiful Chéile,” he said.
“Chéile is certainly lovely,” Ársa said.
“Yes,” Enric said in an odd tone. “She certainly is lovely to look at.” He glanced at the group of young women as they walked away before turning his attention back to Ársa. “I was saying, in response to your question about our colony,” he said.
“Yes, right,” Ársa said. “I’m sorry, I was distracted for a moment, but you now have my undivided attention.”
Enric laughed. “I have it until that group of young ladies comes back and you get another glimpse of Princess Chéile,” he said.
“I shall endeavor to pay attention even in that event, Enric,” Ársa said with a laugh. “You were about to tell me about your smaller numbers, I believe.”
“About half our colony, including our original king, decided to move to another place quite some time ago, my Lord. They said it was more advantageous to them. It started off being an amicable split but turned ugly in the end. We haven’t heard from them since, not officially, anyway. However, our scouts report that they are doing well. The established the town of D’win’teasin further inland, about a day’s journey from here.”
“Even the king left?”
“That he did, so we elected a new king.”
“That works, too, I guess.”
“We’re doing all right, all things considered. It’s much better here than in the old world, Ársa. Thank you for including us.”
“I’m glad we were able to and I’m glad it’s worked out as well as it has.”
“One thing, though,” Enric said, looking a bit nervous.
“Yes?” Ársa said.
Enric shook his head. “I wouldn’t go sniffing around after that Chéile girl if I were you.”
“No?”
“No,” the old man said. “She’s a princess like I said and she’s a high and mighty one, to be sure. She has her sights set on becoming queen, and she’s working our new king’s son and future heir up into a froth for her, so I expect she’ll be going that way as soon as she can rope him in.”
“I see,” Ársa said. “You seem less than enamored of the young lady.”
Enric sniffed. “She has always seemed insincere to me. I don’t know,” he said with a small shrug as he stared down the path where the women had gone. “She’s ambitious and not too mindful of whom she ill-treats along the way.”
“You don’t like her,” Ársa said, looking appraisingly at Enric.
The Elfin elder shook his head. “I don’t trust her. She’s always seemed a bit shifty and conniving to me. I don’t understand how she’s always so successful at getting her way.”
“You don’t approve of a relationship between her and the king’s son, I take it.”
Enric shook his head again and turned back to meet Ársa’s eyes. “No, I don’t and if I can do anything to stop it, believe me, I will. We’d be better off if we could work out an arrangement with the other colony.”
“Ah well, thanks for the warning.”
As he was about to bid farewell to the old man, the group of girls came walking back through. They were all eyeing Ársa and giggling among themselves. All except Chéile who looked at him disdainfully with her nose in the air. Ársa graced them all with a dazzling smile and quick nod of his head before he left their village.
Over the next several months, Ársa took a greater interest in helping the Elves become more firmly established. He attended all their events and functions. He realized he did it only for another glimpse of Chéile. Her beauty drew him toward her even while her words and her attitude spurned him. She clearly thought he was just another human male, for she questioned why he was even allowed to be in their colony. Over time, she tolerated his presence. They even grew to be friends of sorts, and she confided her dreams of marrying the future king, Prince Caolán. As an alternative scenario, Ársa asked her to run away with him and become his lover. He pretended interest in her dreams of becoming the Elfin queen and she dismissed his requests to become his lover.
Between visits to see Chéile, he rendezvoused with Adamen, meeting her at random places in her forest, in her grove, in her village; she never knew where he would turn up. When he came to see her, he would take her hand and Travel her to a far-off land where they would spend days together, enjoying one another as lovers. His home, the place where they stayed was in a tropical, warm part of the Lerien. It was always warm and sunny and his house was on a private beach where he and Adamen could spend leisurely days swimming in the warm ocean or sunning themselves on the white sand beach.
Somewhere in the middle, between the beauty who didn’t want him and the beauty who did, was the woman he loved. He continued to meet Moriko in her forests around the globe. She was r
ight beneath his fingers yet always out of his grasp. If not for Adamen’s warmth, he would have been a lonely and frustrated man, indeed.
1 year later
Nonae 4, 761 Na Réaltaí
Anoba Anoba’s body hurt as she lay back on her soft, plush bed in Na Réaltaí. She ached all over and felt feverish. Her muscles hurt to the bone and her bones hurt as well. Her skin felt burned and blistered, though it looked normal. It hurt even to the touch. She lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. She shivered. Reaching down, she pulled her heavy coverlet over her, up to her neck. She rolled, pulling a fluffy pillow into her arms and propped her leg on it. She burrowed down into the blanket hoping to warm up quickly.
Another cold shiver wracked her body even as she felt she was burning from the inside out. Her throat felt parched and dry, as did her cracked lips. Her black-green eyes fluttered open and she looked at her water glass sitting on the bedside table. She wanted a drink so badly, but she couldn’t muster the energy to move. And she certainly didn’t want to uncover her slender arm to reach for it.
She closed her eyes again and hoped for sleep to overtake her. Maybe I’ll feel better when I awaken. She hadn’t felt the throes of illness in hundreds of years. Part of their Alteration meant they would seldom-to-never become ill. Their greatest danger came from injuries intentionally and unintentionally inflicted by either negligence or malice. They had made rules of behavior among themselves to avoid damage such as that, because one thing they all shared was a passion for their own ideas and some of them had varying degrees of tolerance for other folks’ thoughts.
As Anoba closed her eyes, her final thought, before drifting into a delirious sleep, was of the monumental battles from centuries before, which had sprung up among the Envoy over how to set up the colonies on Lerien. After much compromise, they had opted for the minimalistic approach, even though Ársa, Anoba, and a few others had fought hard to start a different society for the humans than they had left behind in the old world. They wanted rules for the mortals much as they had for themselves. They wanted equality, technology, and structure, but the bigger faction among them had campaigned long and hard for a more chaotic start.
As a result, the lately formed colonies on Lerien leaned more toward the primitive than Anoba and her brother would have liked. Various Envoy members spent their time walking among the planet’s inhabitants, alleviating their suffering as much as possible. She was among that group. Others among them loved the people and fraternized with them as often as they could. The other faction loved to torment the people. They drove off their cattle in the middle of the night; they created wildfires, earthquakes, and droughts. They also loved to exploit them, use their own base natures against them or use the humans’ unfortunate circumstances to their advantage.
This troubling divide among Ársa’s Envoy worried Anoba. She spoke to him about it often, and she and several others had formed a casual alliance against the ones who sought only mischief and mayhem. After the people of Lerien became established and settled down, things drifted into a more comfortable state among The Envoy. Gradually, they fell into their routines and they did not argue as much. Many of them also began having babies, which gave them little time to meddle in one another’s affairs. Everyone accepted this complacency in silence. They were all sick of the fight. The centuries getting everything established had been rigorous. They didn’t even use an official calendar or count years before the colonies and villages, plants and animals on Lerien began to flourish.
At the end of the Nascence, they created the same calendar they had used in the old world and began recording time. It was still a young world, newly established and settling into a routine of its own. They were well into the seventh century of marked time. Anoba was sure she wasn’t alone in her sense of accomplishment at their ending the Nascence and moving on to a permanent calendar. The mortals on Lerien needed that sense of continuity.
Anoba shivered again and snuggled deeper under her thick, warm blanket before blackness overtook her mind and she sank into welcome oblivion. She thought she had drifted off to sleep, but the environment around her drew her attention. How did I get here? I’m in a forest. That can’t be—I can feel the bed beneath me. Her hand went out to pat the soft, silken sheet beneath her.
This must be a dream —but it isn’t a normal one. This is unlike any dream I’ve ever had. Anoba knew she wasn’t conscious or awake, but neither was she dreaming. She felt as if she floated somewhere in between, in some dead zone she had not previously been aware of. She walked, in this unfamiliar, strange state, into a forest that became a room all around her. The trees and lush vegetation disappeared and became smooth, sterile walls. It reminded her of the infirmary in the old world. There was a low, polished counter with bright lights shining down onto its gleaming, hard surface. The light was so bright it hurt her eyes and she flinched away.
As she turned away from the stabbing lights, a soft familiar voice, gentle with love, laughed. “Ah, my darling daughter,” the honeyed voice said. It conveyed warmth and welcome in the tone.
“Mother?” Anoba said, squinting as she turned her blackishgreen eyes toward the voice hidden somewhere within the lucent room.
“Yes, Anoba,” her mother’s voice said. A breeze picked up and blew through Anoba’s hair, making her clothing waft along with it.
“Where?” Anoba asked, confusion setting in. “I can’t see…” She let her voice trail off. There was no use searching for her mother in a room where she couldn’t see past the end of her nose due to the blinding light.
Gradually, the light subsided and the breeze died down. Anoba turned back toward the room and could finally see at last. The sterile white walls of the small cubicle faded and became trees and forest floor once again. Her mother sat, not ten feet from her, perched on a large fallen tree trunk. “Anoba,” she said, opening her arms to her daughter. “Come join me, we need to talk.”
Anoba started forward, toward her mother, asking, “How? You can’t be here. Where are you, Mama? Are you safe?”
Pádraigín moved over on the stump where she sat to make room for her daughter. Though the family resemblance was keen, Anoba was an inch taller and leaner. She looked like a younger version of her mother, though only slightly so. Her coloration was different. While she was dark skinned, as was Anoba, she lacked the greenish tint that was prevalent in her daughter. Pádraigín’s hair was curlier, hanging in frizzy ringlets over her shoulders and down her back. It was blue-black with a hint of steel grey running in a streak from the center of her forehead all the way down the back of her head. It ran the full length of her hair.
Pádraigín’s nose was broader and flatter, and her lips more full. Their eyes were their most similar feature and the mother’s were nearly the same color as the daughter’s. Anyone seeing them would have instantly suspected a relationship, though they may have guessed they were sisters rather than mother-daughter.
“My Envoy and I are safe,” she said. “I see that yours is doing well.”
“We are mostly well,” Anoba said. She inhaled deeply, hoping to get a whiff of her mother’s faint scent of mimosa. Nothing. Is this real? Am I dreaming? It feels so real. She held her hand out to her mother and Pádraigín took it. Her fingers felt icy.
“I’ve been trying to contact you for a long time, darling,” the older woman said. “I am afraid I mostly failed before now. The most I could get through to you were some dreams.”
“You sent me those dreams? I thought perhaps it was you. Given the intensity of them, I wouldn’t say you’d failed.”
“I needed to send you information, Anoba, but I was having some difficulty getting through. We are a long way apart.”
“How did you get here, Mother?” Anoba asked.
“Shush,” Pádraigín said, putting a slim dark finger to her lips. “We haven’t much time and I have so much to tell you. Some of our missions are not going well. It is imperative that those on the Na Réaltaí take precautions to stop that f
ate from befalling you as well.”
“We’re doing fairly well so far, but we have had our share of setbacks.”
“I’m aware of them. We still get a feed from the Na Réaltaí from time to time,” Pádraigín said. “We’ve lost one ship completely and perhaps may lose another in due time. Its captain became a bit careless in his haste to do well. I don’t know how he will turn out.”
“A ship has been lost? Which was it?” Anoba asked in concern.
“I will tell you as much as I am able in the future, but I will not finish. There are more pressing things we need to discuss. I will come to you as often as I can, darling, so listen for me in your private moments.”
“All right, Mother,” Anoba said, her confusion plain on her face.
Pádraigín gave her daughter a sympathetic frown. “Aw, my girl, you’re distressed. Please don’t be. I am here to help you, lead you. You must listen to all I say.”
“You’re scaring me a bit, Mother,” Anoba said. She searched her mother’s face but didn’t find any clues.
“Darling, listen,” she said, “you must be there for your brother. He’s about to enter a period of darkness. It will be a bleak time for him that will bring on a period of unrest for our people. And there will be a split among you,” she said, pausing to search her daughter’s face. “But I see there has been some hint of that already.”
“I think things are better now, Mother,” Anoba said. “We have had our ups and downs with people.”
“Hermolaos?” she said questioningly.
Anoba nodded.
“Yes, that is the faction you all must be on your guard against. We have named them The Sins, Anoba, for they are the embodiment of all those and more.”
