Twilight of the Elves

by Zack Loran Clark

  Zed didn’t mind being left out. He was numb with exhaustion and captivated by the lush beauty of the druids’ home. Here, somehow, life still thrived in the dead of winter, plant life twining together with the ruins into a strange new garden.

  And elves survived, too, against all odds. Once their leader had removed his mask, many of the others followed suit. Each and every one was a night elf. Half a dozen stood nearby, eyeing Zed and the others curiously, and whispering to one another. They kept their bows raised.

  Fel seemed to have been struck dumb by the sight of so many night elves. Though she stood now with Liza and Jayna, the two human girls were doing most of the talking. Fel just watched the druid leader with eyes so large and wide they seemed ready to burst open. It was as if her gaze were too small a container for everything she was seeing.

  “You know, I don’t think this is going to be so bad,” Micah mused. “These backwater elves have probably never met a healing prodigy before. They were falling over themselves when I cleaned up Zed’s cut.”

  Jett shook his head. “Is it too late to feed him to monsters?”

  Reclining beside the dwarf, Mousebane yawned, showing off her pointy teeth. The cat had been curled up in Fel’s pack, but with the threat behind them and this uncanny warmth bathing down, she’d finally ventured out of hiding. Now she was sprawled out on a patch of moss that had grown over what was once thick carpet. She kept her lazy gaze on Fel across the chamber. Zed nearly reached out to rub her soft belly, but Mousebane turned and hissed at him before he even had a chance to lift his hand.

  Finally, the three girls returned. Behind them, the druids’ leader raised his palm, and the archers all lowered their bows.

  “Well, there’s good news and there’s bad news,” Liza said. “And then there’s more bad news. And then finally a little more bad news to top it all off.”

  “Dessert first,” said Brock. “Let’s start with the good stuff.”

  “We’re not prisoners,” Liza said. “The druids will let us depart safely, but they strongly recommend that we wait until morning, when the dead are thinnest. Until then, we’re free to explore.”

  “That’s all the news I need, thanks.” Micah shot up from the ground with a wide stretch. “I’m off to enjoy some well-deserved praise. Step aside, peons. Ah—sorry, Zed—that was rude. I mean, pardon me, peons.” Micah winked, then sauntered out of the domed chamber, ducking beneath a curtain of leafy vines. The druids’ leader nodded silently to one of the archers, and the night elf followed him out.

  “Well, I was going give him one of the parrot’s claws I enchanted,” Jayna said. “But it’s probably safer if he doesn’t have one.” The girl passed around curved petrified tokens, which Zed could smell were pungent with the scent of mint.

  “Wait,” Jett said. “You enchanted these? During the five breaths you were over there? When did you learn the spell?”

  “I just followed the druid’s instructions,” Jayna murmured. “Though describing arcane formulas through an omniglot spell really tests the limits of translation magic. The enchantments won’t last very long. I needed to conserve my mana. Sorry.”

  “I didn’t understand a word you just said, but this is incredible.” Jett turned the pincer over in his hands. “You’re even more brilliant than I realized, Jayna. Hexam doesn’t appreciate what he has.”

  Jayna opened her mouth to respond, but no sound actually came out. Instead, her cheeks blushed almost as red as her hair.

  “Not that I’m excited to get to the bad news,” Brock said, “but I assume there’s more to the story here?”

  Liza nodded grimly. “The night elves won’t help us take back Llethanyl. In fact, as soon as we leave their city, we’re on our own. Also, they’re not giving back our gear until we go. The conversation was . . . tense.”

  Fel’s eyes were on her feet, where Mousebane had padded over and then collapsed again. “The dro’shea of Llethanyl always believed the rest of our people were wiped out. That our culture was lost.” Her gaze rose from the ground now, cobalt eyes shining. “But that isn’t true. These dro’shea survived. They’ve flourished!”

  “And as far as they’re concerned,” Liza said, “the elves are still at war.”

  “Aren’t we?” Fel spun toward Liza, sending Mousebane spilling away. Something had cracked in the young elf’s gaze. A container had finally broken. “The Lich attacked the city on his own, but my entire people have been found guilty of the crime. All my life I’ve been treated like an intruder in my own home, a home my parents gave their lives to protect. Maybe the druids are right. Maybe . . . maybe Llethanyl deserves this!”

  “Fel, you don’t mean that,” Liza said.

  “Don’t tell me what I mean!” Fel snapped. “You can’t understand what it’s like. Every day I’m reminded that I’m not just different, but unwelcome. I’ve tried to be a good elf—for the dro’shea, and Callum, and the memories of my mother and father—but it never mattered!” Fel waved the parrot’s claw, which was gripped so tightly in her palm that Zed worried she’d cut herself. “My parents never knew that our real people were alive and waiting for us! And now I’ve found them, but I can’t even speak their language!” She shoved the claw into a pocket and whirled around, her back to the group.

  A long, quiet beat passed.

  “You’re right,” Zed said softly. “It’s not fair. Why don’t we look around together? Like in the market.”

  “No.” Fel let out a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Zed, but this isn’t a tour I can give you. I’ve always wondered what was taken from us. What our stories were. I’m going to see what I’ve missed.”

  And with that, Fel was gone. Mousebane trotted after her, disappearing into the foliage.

  Jett placed a hand on Zed’s back as he frowned at the empty passageway. “Give her space,” he said. “She needs to take this in, without an audience.”

  “So what’s next, oh ‘Sister of Light’?” Brock asked, turning to Liza.

  “For what it’s worth,” Jayna muttered, “Frond said our next stop was somewhere called Celadon Falls. Not that I have any idea where that is.”

  Liza gazed up toward the ceiling and closed her eyes. She was standing beside a shaft of light, and the radiance shifted momentarily, covering her olive-brown skin in its glow. “Maybe we could all use a moment to split up and cool off. Figure some stuff out.” Then she opened her eyes and gave Brock an impish smile. “Jayna, Jett, want to have a look around?”

  Jett was beside her in an instant. “Definitely,” he said.

  Jayna nodded, following more slowly. The three left the chamber, trailed by two more elven archers, leaving Zed and Brock behind.

  “You realize this is the discovery of a lifetime,” Brock said. “A lost city of druids survived the Day of Dangers, and we found it. Or, well, I guess they found us. Either way, I expect another sternly worded letter of congratulations from the king.”

  The two were walking down what had once been a wide city avenue. Every few feet the stone bricks erupted upward, overturned by thick tree trunks or impossibly large roots. Night had fallen, but the canopy of leaves shimmered with a sparkling light that kept the city bright and warm, like lanterns during a festival. A stream ran right through the road ahead of them. Its glittering water was clear and lovely.

  “Frond will have to update the guild’s flag,” Zed agreed. “Five stars won’t be enough anymore.”

  Brock sighed. “Unless we can’t save Llethanyl.”

  A long moment of quiet hung between them.

  “Jayna mentioned Callum is your uncle,” Brock said. “That’s . . . I can’t imagine what it must have been like, finding out that way.”

  “Brock, I . . .” Zed shut his eyes, fighting back a wave of emotions. All the hurt and frustration of the last few days—of the last six weeks—flared up inside him, as fresh as ever. “What did I do . . . to make you hate me?”

  Brock grimaced, glancing away. “I don’t hate you, Zed. I don
’t think it’s even possible to hate you.”

  Zed thought of Makiva, and his heart bucked. He wondered if that was really true. He’d made a pact with a witch. That made him a warlock. Zed couldn’t imagine anything Freestoners despised more than elf-blooded warlocks.

  “Then why have you been avoiding me?” he asked.

  “It’s complicated.” Brock exhaled. “I know that’s not an answer. I promised we’d stick together when we joined the Sea of Stars, and I’ve let you down. I’ve got a good reason for it, I swear. Something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about . . .” Brock glanced over his shoulder. “But it might have to wait just a bit longer.”

  Behind them, two night elf archers followed a few feet back. They’d lowered their bows, but kept their eyes trained on the boys.

  Zed nodded glumly. “I have something to tell you, too. Something important. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid. I still am.”

  Brock gave Zed a worried glance, but he didn’t press him further. “Once this is all over, we both come clean. No more secrets. Deal?”

  “Deal,” Zed said.

  Then Brock took his hand and pulled him in for a stiff, earnest embrace. It felt like a weight had immediately fallen from Zed’s shoulders. For the first time in weeks, he and Brock were a team again. Suddenly the prospect of saving Llethanyl didn’t feel quite so impossible.

  Though it was well past the hour Freestone shuttered its doors, Zed noticed many dro’shea were bustling about as he and Brock explored the city. Some carried baskets full of fruits and grains. Others wove fabric outdoors, loitering in the light from the trees. It was like being in Freestone’s market again during more prosperous times. The city was full of overgrown structures—stately houses were fused with trees or cloaked in moss—but this didn’t feel like a wild place to Zed. It felt like a garden. Flowers grew in neat spirals of color, and many of the trees were pruned into artful silhouettes. Every blade of grass was perfectly level. Zed couldn’t help but stare in awe.

  And there were plenty of night elves watching them, too. Zed noticed a small group of dro’shea children peering at him and Brock from behind an enormous tree. When Brock waved, the children shrieked and laughed, disappearing from sight.

  “What I don’t get is how they’ve survived the Dangers this long,” Zed said. “I didn’t notice any wards coming in. Aside from that one mage, there’s been no spellcraft to speak of.”

  “Wait, this seriously isn’t magic?” Brock asked, waving upward.

  Zed shook his head. “At least not any I can sense. Haven’t you noticed the light looks . . . familiar? It’s sort of like what Micah does.”

  “I do my best to forget about what Micah does.” Brock searched around, then nodded toward a young elven woman with pale gray skin who was standing over a small sapling. She was dressed in an ornate, flowing robe, similar to the druidic leader’s. “Don’t look now,” he said. “But I think we’re about to see some of this nonmagic firsthand.”

  Indeed, the druid’s palms were held carefully over the plant. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. The sapling shimmered with a glowing amber aureole. Honeyed light dripped from its leaves and trunk, bathing the soil around it in radiance. As Zed and Brock watched, the sapling grew at incredible speed, stretching upward like a dog rising lazily from sleep. It expanded several inches in a moment’s time, and pink blossoms flowered along its branches. Then the elven woman let out her breath and the light faded. The sapling dimmed to normal.

  The woman opened her eyes, then caught sight of Zed and Brock watching her. She yelped, stumbling backward. The boys both immediately raised their hands.

  “Sorry!” Zed said. “We were just watching.”

  Zed heard his own voice echoed in a foreign tongue, resonating from the parrot’s claw in his left hand.

  The druid nodded slowly, her eyes flicking to the archers behind them. “Forgive me.” Her voice rang out from the claw. “I’d heard there were foreigners in”—the translation spell lapsed as the night elf spoke the name of her city; Zed heard something like Tascen Ra, before the magic kicked in again—“Duskhaven, but you’re so strange looking. Are all humans so small?”

  “Yes,” Brock answered, before Zed could respond. “What were you doing there, with the tree?”

  The night elf smiled. “This sapling is meek. It sees the towering plants around us and worries that it will never grow tall. I gave it confidence.”

  “Using magic?” Zed asked.

  The woman’s brow furrowed as the question was echoed in her tongue. Her head tilted curiously. “Magic? The sapling doesn’t need borrowed power from other planes. It must nourish its own anima, or it will never grow strong enough to survive.”

  “Anima . . .” Zed breathed. “It is like Micah’s healing. They use anima to make the forest grow! Wait, trees have anima?”

  The druid smiled bemusedly. “Everything has it. It fills the living. Before coming here, my people lived in a desert. Only the night offered us any safety from the heat of the sun. But druids can”—the spell lapsed again, and several words echoed out in a rush—“arguewhisperfamilysingbroker with the land. We wield the anima of our surroundings to guide and protect the natural world. Always carefully. Always taking only what we need.”

  “What can you do with it?” Brock asked. He had an inquisitive gleam in his eye. “Does it just make the plants grow?”

  “That’s one aspect of the art,” the druid said, nodding. “We use what’s available in the environment around us. We can coax a stubborn tree to action. . . .” She raised her hand, and a tree bough gently lowered from the canopy above, shimmering with light. Zed gasped with delight as it dropped a bright pink fruit right into her palm.

  The druid took a bite. As he watched the juice drip down her chin, Zed’s stomach quailed with hunger. “And sometimes we can ask natural animals to come to our aid. A swarm of wasps will usually scare off even the most persistent of monsters. And . . . if needed . . . we can even use it to redirect the elemental forces that surround us.”

  “Elemental?” Zed said.

  The elven woman tilted her head again thoughtfully. “How to explain?” She held out the pink fruit, and Zed quickly snatched it up, taking a luxuriously large bite. It was sweeter than any apple he’d had in Freestone.

  The druid moved to the edge of the stream that ran through the cobbles. She closed her eyes and held both hands over the clear water. Light shivered from the trees and grass and moss that surrounded her. Strings of brilliance reflected on the surface of the water, until the stream itself seemed to be cascading with brightness. Beneath the druid, the water swelled. It trickled upward, a reverse teardrop, then broke from the stream and ascended into the elf’s waiting hands. The bubble floated just above her palms as a perfect sphere.

  “Incredible,” Zed gasped, forgetting the fruit in his own hand. “It’s just like magic! I had no idea anima could do this.”

  The druid turned around, gently revolving her palms. The sphere floated higher still, rotating slowly and smoothly over her head. “Magic breaks the rules,” she said. “It creates something from nothing by tearing holes between the homebarriersacredworlds. We use it sparingly. Anima bends without breaking, employing what we already have.”

  “The line between bending and breaking is not always clear, Lanaya.” A deep voice echoed out from the parrot’s claw in Zed’s hand.

  The druid yelped, losing her concentration, and the orb of water immediately burst, drenching her. Zed turned around to see the imposing figure of the night elves’ leader towering over him and Brock. The leader’s mask was back on, obscuring his expression.

  “I’m so sorry, masterfirsthighest Prime Druid!” Lanaya said. “The foreigners were curious about our arts.”

  “And you were all too ready to show off your skills, weren’t you? Pride is poison, Lanaya. It pollutes the land just as it pollutes us. Learn from the fall of Llethanyl.”

  The young elf had the good
grace not to answer. Instead, she bowed her dripping head.

  The Prime Druid—as the parrot’s claw had dubbed him—glowered over Zed and Brock. At least Zed assumed he was glowering beneath the mask. “I request the presence of the would-be saviors of Llethanyl. Your Prime, the Sister of Light, has made me a challenge. You will be there to witness her defeat.” With that, the Prime Druid stalked away, not bothering to wait and see if the two boys followed.

  “Oh, no, Liza,” Brock said. “What have you done?”

  They arrived at what had once been a massive circular amphitheater. The great stone steps leading down to the center were lined with cushions of moss. Hundreds of small glowing toadstools formed a ring around the space. But the true spectacle was what rose from the stage.

  An enormous mushroom grew in the center of the concentric stone bands. Its cap towered over the amphitheater, resting atop a massive twisting stem. Gazing up, Zed could see swirling, multicolored lights in the gills, which illuminated the space in unearthly hues. Glittering spores fell gently from the mushroom’s cap, raining starlight upon the crowds of elves who lounged on the steps.

  Zed stopped cold once he caught sight of the enormous toadstool. His mouth fell open.

  “Wow.” Brock didn’t so much say the word as breathe it. The amphitheater had a hushed, serene quality. Fireflies danced around, winking playfully between the clusters of elves.

  “This is the mothersunsetsafetyreaper Crepuscule.” Lanaya spoke from behind them, the words echoing through the parrot’s claw. “Our ancestors brought its spores with us from the desert and spread them here. When the spores grew, they knew this place would be a safe home for us.”

  “It’s incredible.” Zed shook his head. “Those spores . . . are they safe?”

  Lanaya laughed obligingly. “They are to us. The Crepuscule is what protects our people. The spores know us. We’re immune to their effects. Monsters and strangers, however, become confused when they approach Duskhaven. The spores cloud their minds. They’re gently turned away. If you hadn’t been led here by the Prime Druid, you never would have arrived.”