Twilight of the Elves

by Zack Loran Clark

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Zed said. “Hexam would kill to get his hands on a sample.”

  “Hexam and a few others,” Brock muttered. “Lanaya, this isn’t a natural mushroom, is it?”

  The elf shrugged. “It’s protected our people for as long as we can remember. Some believe it first came from the plane of fairies—but many say the same is true of the elves, too. Perhaps we brought it with us.” The druid’s gaze rose appreciatively up the twirling stalk. “Our sagas don’t tell of its beginnings. The Crepuscule’s nature is in endings. It comes alive only as the sun sets, shining through the night. And when we die, our bodies are buried here, feeding the mushroom colony.”

  “It eats you?” Zed blurted out.

  Lanaya nodded. “Eventually, yes. But only after we’ve passed. Funguses are the great decomposers. They’re vital to the well-being of the land. In giving ourselves to the Crepuscule, we become a part of the power that protects Duskhaven.” The elf’s blue eyes slowly blinked. “It also wards us against evilsmokepurple necromancy. The elves of Llethanyl fear the long night. They refuse to speak of it, and preserve the bodies of their fallen, as if they’d never died. But ignoring something true doesn’t make it untrue. Death is not an opinion.”

  Below them, the Prime Druid strode ahead, his long legs carrying him gracefully over the steps. Zed had been so preoccupied with the enormous toadstool that he’d failed to see his friends were all clustered at the bottom of it until just now. Liza stood with her arms crossed, while Jayna, Jett, and Micah sat nearby on one of the large steps. Zed searched around for Fel, and caught sight of her watching from the amphitheater’s edge. Mousebane sniffed a glowing mushroom at her feet and gave it a tentative lick.

  When the Prime Druid arrived at the amphitheater’s basin, he turned and raised his hands into the air. He didn’t acknowledge Liza standing just beside him. The small conversations throughout the space quieted.

  The druid spoke in a booming voice, which was repeated from Zed’s hand as the enchantment translated.

  “These young strangers have wandered into our midst while chasing an impossible task. They wish to revive Llethanyl, a corpse that’s long since dead.” Murmurs of agreement rose from the night elves. “We have saved their lives and shown them hospitality, and yet still they ask more of us. They beg us to join them in their foolishness, and deliver our enemies from an unnatural fate they brought upon themselves.”

  Now the crowd began to shout, angry bursts of chatter too jumbled for the parrot’s claw to translate. Zed got the general tone, however.

  “But despite their foolishness,” the Prime Druid boomed, cutting through the talk, “the strangers’ Prime is bright. In acknowledgment of a Sister of Light, I have agreed to honor her challenge.”

  “Sister of Light . . .” Zed said. “People keep saying that about Liza. What does it mean?”

  Lanaya’s eyes widened. “You truly can’t see it? Your Prime and her brother are strongfamilyelf shining with anima. It dazzles me just to look at them. The boy has already ripened—he reaches inward for his power—but your Prime’s anima is still raw. If she were a druid, she’d be exceptional.”

  Brock was grinning down at the stage. “She’s already pretty exceptional, to tell you the truth.”

  Liza uncrossed her arms, resting her hands on her hips. She scanned the crowd with a resolute expression, unfazed by both the taunts and strange compliments of the Prime Druid.

  “If the Sister of Light can answer Afonso’s Riddle,” the druid said, “we will join the strangers in their futile mission.”

  Gasps went up from the crowd. Lanaya, too, sucked in a gulp of air. “But that’s impossible,” the enchanted claw muttered.

  “If she fails,” the Prime continued, “the humans will relinquish their weapons to us, and leave our home at once.”

  Brock slapped his palm to his forehead. “Did I say exceptional? Because what I meant was reckless, bullheaded, and suicidal.”

  The murmurs that rose from the crowd now were less ardent. The elves all turned to regard Zed’s friends clustered together at the bottom step of the amphitheater. A voice cried out from the crowd, clear enough that the parrot’s claw hummed in Zed’s hand.

  “But they’re just children!” the claw translated.

  The Prime Druid was unmoved. “These strangers would have us fight and die for our enemies,” he announced. “If they wish us to risk ourselves, then they must be willing to risk as well.”

  Liza took a step forward, staring stonily out into the audience. Then Zed saw her gaze find Fel, and Liza’s eyes softened. “Llethanyl is not my city,” she said, holding her own parrot’s claw aloft to translate. “But like Llethanyl, my city is also imperfect. Its people can be cruel, its laws unjust.”

  Liza frowned, perhaps thinking of her own experience with Freestone’s ban on female knights. “But it’s also filled with goodness,” she called. “With acts of kindness and grace. A city isn’t just one thing. It contains us—people—and all the many things we are. As long as the elves of Llethanyl survive, the city is not a corpse. That’s why we’re willing to risk ourselves for it.”

  She turned to the Prime Druid, squaring her shoulders. “Ask me your riddle.”

  The druid inclined his head, his mask dramatically blank. “What contains vast distances, hidden in its heart? And has many siblings, more through mishap than by art? Once solved, it dies, but you can resurrect it with a tie.”

  “Did . . . did the translation spell just rhyme?” Zed whispered. “Jayna’s magic is starting to intimidate me.”

  “To be fair, that last one was more of a slant rhyme,” Brock whispered back.

  Liza’s face clouded as she considered the riddle.

  Zed’s mind was doing loops just trying to remember the first line. Contains vast what in its where?

  “This is impossible!” he hissed, just as Liza stepped forward.

  “The answer is ‘a knot,’ ” she called.

  The Prime Druid inclined his head once again. At the bottom of the amphitheater, Jayna, Jett, and Micah burst into cheers and applause.

  But none of the elves stirred. They continued to watch the stage expectantly. Zed turned to find Lanaya was biting her lip.

  The Prime nodded to someone waiting at the amphitheater’s edge. Two elven druids hustled toward the stage, carrying a large flat shape between them.

  The druids set down two wooden stakes, intricately decorated with carved leaves and flowers. Between the stakes was the thickest nest of vines that Zed had ever seen. Even from where he and Brock stood at the outer edges of the arena, he could tell that each vine was covered in sharp-looking thorns. Together they formed an impenetrable knot of vegetation, with a long elliptical shape contained within its center.

  “What’s happening?” Liza asked. “I answered Afonso’s Riddle. Now return our gear and help us stop the Lich.”

  Deep rumbles of laugher echoed from behind the Prime Druid’s mask. “That was not the riddle, human. It was merely an introduction.” He turned toward the audience and raised his hands. The long sleeves of his robe billowed down to reveal ropy, muscled arms.

  “When our people first came to these lands,” the Prime Druid called, “it was to war against the profane ain’shea and cowardly cel’shea. But then the world tore open, and old conflicts were superseded by the necessities of survival. Our founder, Afonso the Green Knight, led us to the ruins of this city. Together with his druids, he slew the monsters that dwelled within. He spawned the Crepuscule and shielded our people from the unnatural horrors that plagued them, until it was strong enough to protect us on its own. And when the long night finally came for him, as it does for us all, the green knight laid down his sword.”

  The druid turned, motioning toward the knot of vines. “This is Afonso’s Riddle. For over two centuries, the blade has been hidden within. Crafted by the cleverest druids, its roots fed by the green knight’s own blood, the riddle has remained unsolved sinc
e its growth. Only one worthy of Afonso’s legacy will be able to untangle the knot.” The Prime Druid turned to Liza and nodded in mock respect. “This is the question I set before you.”

  The amphitheater was completely quiet. Liza stepped toward the mass of briars. She reached a hand tentatively forward, then hissed, pulling her finger away.

  The Prime Druid chuckled beneath his mask. “I would offer you gloves for the task, but you’d find them little help. The riddle’s thorns are sharper than mythril. Even thick cloth will be as water to them.”

  “It’s sort of unfair that he gets to keep using all these metaphors,” Brock muttered.

  Liza frowned at the druid, then turned back to Afonso’s Riddle. She rounded the cluster of vines, searching for a weak spot. She reached in again . . . slowly . . . hesitantly. . . .

  “Prime Druid!” Beside Zed, Lanaya stepped forward.

  All around the amphitheater, night elves began muttering. The Prime’s mask turned, those two slits regarding her coldly.

  Lanaya wavered, then took a deep breath. “Please, let these children forfeit!” she called. “The Sister of Light means us no harm. Afonso’s Riddle was made to be unsolvable. It’s a weapon, not a question. This isn’t a fair challenge!”

  The Prime Druid stalked to the edge of the stage. “The challenge matches the request!” he boomed.

  “The riddle will kill her! Its thorns are poisoned!”

  Brock let out a little gasp. Zed’s gaze snapped back to the stage, where Liza stood wide-eyed.

  The Prime rolled his shoulders, then turned his masked face from Lanaya, back to Liza.

  “The challenge stands,” he growled.

  “Liza!” Fel’s voice rang out from the other side of the amphitheater. Zed and Brock both turned in time to see the young ranger snatch a bow fluidly from the hands of one of the elven archers, then aim it toward the stage. She loosed her arrow.

  “Zed!” Fel shouted. “Fire!”

  Zed wasted precious moments figuring out what Fel meant, then precious more stumbling forward and raising his hand into the air. The missile sailed over the heads of the night elf spectators.

  I can’t make it, Zed realized. It’s too far!

  Then he felt the chain around his neck grow warm. And suddenly—as if by magic—Zed knew that he could make it. He summoned his mana, already boiling with anticipation, and pointed his hand to the arrow. A green streak exploded from Zed’s palm, blasting upward. It met the arrow with perfect precision, just as the missile curved downward, then landed with a thuck at Liza’s feet.

  “What is this?” The Prime Druid’s voice echoed out from the parrot’s claw. “Take that weapon from her!”

  There was an uproar as night elves descended upon Fel. Mousebane let out a shrill, then attacked two of the archers as they approached. The cat launched herself up one archer’s leg, clawing the poor elf in a blaze of fur and fury, before leaping onto the face of another.

  At the bottom of the amphitheater, Liza gazed down at the burning arrow at her feet. Then, before the Prime Druid could stop her, she snatched it up from the ground and lunged forward, positioning the arrowhead as she would a blade. She stabbed it into the vines. There was a great whoosh! and a flash of light as the green flames caught, burning quickly through the riddle. Liza waited only half an instant before she plunged her hand into the center of the charred briars, bracing her leg against a wooden stake, and yanked. With a cry, she tore something free of the vines.

  All around them, the commotion suddenly quieted. The archers restraining Fel let their arms drop, now staring wide-eyed at Liza. The entire glittering arena was silent once again.

  Liza raised her arm into the air. It was singed and blackened with ash; her skin smoked all the way up to her elbow.

  And clutched in her hand was a gleaming green sword.

  The moment Liza lifted the sword, Brock steeled himself for a fight.

  If he’d stopped to think about it, he wouldn’t have liked their odds. Seven against a city, unarmed except for an ancient sword and whatever mana Zed and Jayna had left in them. And even if they fought their way free of the city, they’d be lost in a dark forest, knee-deep in snow, surrounded by the undead.

  But Brock didn’t stop to think about the odds. He clenched his fists and dug his feet in and said to Zed, “Get ready.”

  No one in the amphitheater moved, though, aside from a few druids leaning in to whisper furiously with their Prime while two others, wary now of provoking Mousebane, cautiously took the bow from Fel. She didn’t resist, nor did she do much to suppress the pleased look on her face. Brock was used to seeing her smile, but now she displayed what he could only call a self-satisfied smirk.

  He really did have the coolest friends.

  Liza lowered the sword and turned toward the Prime. Her expression was placid, showing the respectful poise she would have been forced to learn as a young noble. Brock could see in her body language, though, just how thrilled she was. It must have been all she could do not to pump her fist in the air and whoop in victory.

  The Prime Druid, on the other hand, radiated disappointment. Brock had to wonder if the elf had a different mask for less solemn occasions. The eye slits on this one fairly dripped with scorn.

  “You have failed our challenge,” he said, and Brock found himself gripping his parrot’s claw tight enough to hurt.

  “Excuse me?” Liza said, her poise dropping in an instant. She kept the sword nonthreateningly at her side, but pointed at it with her free hand. “Riddle solved, I’d say.”

  “You cheated,” the Prime said.

  “She didn’t,” Micah said, rising to his feet. “Among my sister’s many shortcomings is that she never cheats. She didn’t break any rules that were presented to her.”

  “And she was wise enough to use the greatest tool at her disposal,” Jett added.

  “Teamwork!” Jayna trilled.

  “Right, teamwork,” Jett said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was going to say teamwork, not mystical fire.”

  “Maybe this is what Afonso intended to teach you—teach us,” Fel offered, raising her voice louder than Brock had ever heard it. She opened her hands in a gesture that was part plea, part invitation. “That there are problems you can’t solve on your own. That you have to work with others, people who see things differently than you do, in order to overcome life’s greatest challenges.”

  Murmurs swept through the crowd, and Brock saw Lanaya nodding vigorously. He could feel the druids being swayed. They wanted to celebrate the riddle being solved.

  The Prime quashed those murmurs with a forceful sweep of his hand. “Do not put words into the mouth of our champion,” he said hotly. “Afonso gave his life so that we might live free. If he taught us anything, it is that we are better off alone.” His gaze swept across the amphitheater, trailing past Zed and Brock before returning once more to Fel. “None of you are welcome here. You must leave this place at dawn.” He turned to go, but paused, his eye slits turning to Afonso’s sword. “And take that tainted relic with you. Consider it the only aid you shall receive from Duskhaven.”

  “Well, the hospitality was nice while it lasted,” Brock grumbled.

  They had been roughly escorted from the amphitheater, their parrot’s claws had been confiscated, and then they were deposited on a patch of spongy moss beneath a massive oak. Sentries were stationed at a short distance, marking the boundaries of their territory. The message was clear even without the aid of a translation spell: They were to stay put and stay quiet until morning.

  Oddly, though the rest of their weapons remained confiscated, the druids had let Liza keep the sword. Brock remembered how the Prime had called it tainted. He wondered if that was how they all saw it—if the druids didn’t care to even touch the sword now that she, a human, had pulled it from the thorns.

  “I’m sorry, you guys,” Liza said, turning the sword in her hand to catch a moonbeam. “I thought I could persuade the Prime to help us. W
hen I pressed him on the issue, he asked if I was challenging his leadership, and I suppose when I said yes it became an actual, formal challenge. Maybe I should have backed down right then, but . . . oh, he just got my blood up.”

  “Liza, that was totally reckless,” Zed said through a huge smile. “It was also amazing and inspiring and a little bit funny. Brock and I loved every minute of it.”

  “Hey now,” Brock said, and Liza looked at him as if daring him to disagree with Zed. Brock faltered. “I’ll say this much: Frond will be proud.”

  “It’s no wonder Liza was unafraid of the riddle,” Jayna said primly. “When she’s used to navigating such thorny compliments.”

  Jett laughed at that—a bit louder than was justified, Brock thought. And then Jayna blushed. And then Brock rolled his eyes back so far he plopped backward onto the moss. It was spongy, and Zed, who was sitting beside him, bounced in place.

  “The moss will make a nice bed, at least,” Jett said, easing himself down and slowly detaching his mythril leg, which was held in place with a series of leather straps and metal buckles. He sighed in relief, massaging his residual limb. “This will be a far sight better than camping in the snow.”

  “I can’t imagine any of us is going to sleep a wink, though,” Liza said. And then Micah’s loud snoring came from several yards away, where he was sprawled out on his back and already drooling. “Other than him,” she said. “Oh, to be carefree and young again.”

  “Aren’t you, like, five minutes older than him?” Zed asked.

  “It was a crucial five minutes,” she answered. “I really made the most of them.”

  “I’ll say,” said Jett. “When the gods were handing out brains and Micah went for his share, they told him, ‘Sorry, that girl who was just here took the last of them.’ ”

  They all chuckled at that, except for Zed, who said, “Aw, he means well.”

  “Does he, though?” asked Brock from his pillow of moss. He looked over at Fel, who sat apart from the group, stroking Mousebane and apparently lost in thought. “What do you think, Fel? You’ve got the outsider’s perspective.”