The Elven

by Bernhard Hennen

  An old gnome stepped out of an alcove. “Don’t suffer from vertigo, do you?” he croaked.

  “Not at all,” said Nuramon.

  “Good. That saves me the climb. I’m not the youngest these days.” The old man pressed his hands to his back. “A lifetime spent in these halls. Oh, it is not without its pains, but look how magnificent this place is.”

  Narrow wooden planks had been attached to the shelves and served as catwalks. High above, Nuramon could make out a figure in a white robe that seemed to be floating beside the shelves. Between the shelves, a number of large recesses opened into the walls; these were places where one could withdraw to read. Carefully positioned barinstones lent a fiery glow to the entire hall.

  “What brings you here?” the old gnome inquired.

  “Gengalos sent me. Somewhere here there is supposed to be a book about Yulivee,” Nuramon replied.

  “Ah, Master Gengalos. He has sent you to the right place. We have not only chronicles here about Yulivee, we also have a collection of the writings of Yulivee herself. They were a number of separate tales originally, but we bound them together to form one volume. Perhaps that would be of interest?”

  Nuramon could hardly believe his luck. “No doubt. Where can I find it?”

  “Go down this way to rack twenty-three, then climb up to the one hundred fifty-fourth shelf. You will find Yulivee’s tales up there.” The gnome stepped over to the wall of shelves. “Use the ladders to get there. You can move freely along the catwalks, and there are boards you can pull out if you want to sit and read.”

  Nuramon only nodded. The shelf he was looking for was probably fifty paces above where he stood. That was not a height to worry him at all. He looked up once again to the figure he had seen up there a moment earlier.

  “Master Reilif,” said the gnome by way of explanation.

  “One of the keepers of knowledge?” asked Nuramon in a low voice.

  “Yes. He often comes here and never misses the opportunity to climb up there himself. You should know that I am duty-bound to fetch any book an inquisitive visitor might wish for.”

  Nuramon smiled at the gnome. “But it is like you said. I don’t suffer from vertigo, so you don’t need to trouble yourself.”

  “My thanks, elf. And I’m glad it’s you who has come here. They say there’s a human at large in the library. He broke through the barriers. An uncouth type, they say, who does nothing but drink, eat, and make a mess.”

  “His name is Mandred. He’s one of my companions.”

  The gnome immediately reddened.

  “What is your name?” asked Nuramon, taking off his weapon belt as the oldster watched him anxiously. The gnome was obviously afraid that Nuramon was about to draw his sword.

  “Builax,” came his unsteady reply.

  “Don’t worry. I know my companions very well. So far your assessment has been quite accurate. My name is Nuramon, and I would like to give you my sword for safekeeping.” He handed the weapon to Builax. The fear on the gnome’s face vanished as fast as it had appeared. He placed the sword in a small nook alongside his writing implements and other belongings, then he led Nuramon along the wall of books. They stopped in front of the twenty-third rack.

  “The book you are looking for is the eighth one along.”

  Nuramon set about the ascent via the ladders and rungs. When he reached the one hundred fifty-fourth shelf, he felt suddenly restless. This is where the book of Yulivee’s writings was supposed to be—the key to reaching Noroelle. Carefully, he stepped onto the catwalk. It offered his feet a good grip and was wide enough to walk along. Nuramon let his hands glide across the backs of the books on the shelf. He pulled out the eighth book in the row. It was bound in pale-brown leather and, in its plainness, barely differed from the books left and right of it. Neither on the cover itself nor on the spine were any characters or adornment of any kind. When he opened it, he saw that the pages were also free of ornament or decoration. Even the title had not been particularly emphasized. It filled just four lines, and the text began directly beneath it. Nuramon smiled. This book was obviously deemed to be of little value. Whoever assembled it had forgone anything that might make it stand out. But for Nuramon, it was a treasure beyond price. Reverently, he read the title: The Stories of Yulivee, Who Abandoned Albenmark, Wandered through the World of Humans, and Founded the Town of Valemas Anew in the Shattered World, Related in Her Own Words in the Presence of the Keepers of Knowledge and Recorded Here by Fjeel the Swift.

  Nuramon was holding the narrative of an elf who had left Albenmark of her own free will with those who followed her. Like Nuramon, she had been searching. And she, too, had had to decipher the magic of the Albenstars before she reached her final destination. Nuramon hoped deeply that, with Yulivee’s book, he was following a trail more promising than Farodin’s sandy path.

  The Account of Yulivee:

  The Questions of the Keepers of Knowledge

  You have asked me where I learned my magic, and I will answer you. Know that in Albenmark, I was already a powerful sorceress. I had mastered the magic of light, of life, and of appearances. And all of these were to benefit me in the new oasis of Valemas. In the Shattered World, we found a desert land like our homeland. There I created an expanse of sky, a lake, an illusion of distance, and much more besides.

  When I left Albenmark, I led my companions through a stable gate. At that time, I knew little of the paths and the stars of the Alben. But travel is the best teacher, and I was an attentive student. As foreign as the human world may be, there are many of the Albenkin there, in hidden corners—recluses, holders of old learning. We encountered other communities that had abandoned Albenmark. We talked with them, exchanged experiences. We taught them what we knew, and they taught us in return.

  But from no one did I learn as much as from the oracle Dareen. She is the only oracle to have left Albenmark for the world of humans. She does not live in the Shattered World. Those who step through her gates in the human world do not leave that world; they emerge instead in a distant place, where they may listen to the wisdom of Dareen. She showed me the way and opened my spirit for me. I saw the Albenstar in the desert that would become the gate to the new Valemas. My destination stood before my eyes, and from that moment on, I searched for the way there. Dareen changed my life with a few words and images. A world opened up for me, the existence of which I had never even suspected.

  You ask me where Dareen is hiding, but I can tell you no more than I already have, for I am bound by an oath.

  FROM VOLUME 23/154/8, SHEET 424.A, IN THE NARROW HALL IN THE HIDDEN LIBRARY OF ISKENDRIA

  Different Paths

  This was it. This was what Nuramon had been searching for. He had read Yulivee’s tales with pleasure, but only when he reached the questions put to her by the keepers of knowledge did he find something that pointed to a direct route. Yulivee had encountered the oracle Dareen, and through the oracle, she had seen the place she was searching for. And the same could happen for them if they could find the way to reach Dareen. If the oracle received them, then they would be close to finding Noroelle.

  Nuramon let out a small cry of delight. Then he heard steps and creaking on the rungs of the ladder that led past the alcove to which he had withdrawn to read.

  It was Master Reilif who approached. The keeper of knowledge stepped off the ladder and joined Nuramon in the alcove. His face was half covered by a hood, and only his fingertips protruded from the sleeves of his black cape. As slim as he was, he could have been an elf. With small steps, he moved closer.

  “Please excuse my outburst of joy, Master Reilif,” said Nuramon. “I did not mean to upset the harmony of the library.”

  “There can be only one penalty for what you have done,” the keeper of knowledge replied in a voice that betrayed not the slightest trace of emotion. He sat opposite Nuramon and pushed his hood back a little, r
evealing gray eyes that seemed to bore into Nuramon. “You must tell me what made you cry out like that.”

  “Gladly, Master. And perhaps you can help me,” Nuramon said, willingly telling the keeper of knowledge all he had read of Yulivee’s story. He finished his account saying, “But what made me so happy was finding what I have been searching for.”

  “And that would be?” asked Reilif patiently.

  “I discovered that Yulivee had been to the oracle Dareen. Now I want to find this oracle. I have many questions . . . questions to which I am unlikely to find an answer here.”

  “Then you have recognized that these halls house dead knowledge. Knowledge can only be brought to life when someone takes it into themselves. Here you have heard about Dareen. Now you have to find your way to her,” said Reilif.

  “Yulivee did not say where the oracle was to be found.”

  “But I can tell you. I am a keeper of knowledge. I have read a great many books in these halls, Yulivee’s among them.”

  Nuramon wondered why Reilif had listened to him so patiently if he already knew Yulivee’s story.

  “Back then, we were all curious,” Reilif said. “We all wanted to know where this oracle had hidden herself away, but Yulivee did not want to tell us. She hinted at certain things that led us to suspect that the oracle must be in Angnos. We were not able to say with certainty, however. All the envoys we sent to find her returned empty-handed.”

  “Angnos,” said Nuramon quietly. It was a kingdom he and his companions already knew. The search for Guillaume had led them there. It was an untamed land, full of adventure. “Thank you, Master Reilif.”

  The keeper of knowledge stood. “You will find the oracle. I am certain. Remember these words that Yulivee once spoke. ‘You came to us. Your voice rang. You showed us the stars. They sparkled. We could see them.’ That is what she said when we asked her whether she might be able to reveal to us something more about Dareen. Solve the puzzle of those words, if you can.” With that, Reilif left the alcove and climbed back up to his shelf.

  Nuramon wondered how old the keeper of knowledge was. From what he had said, Nuramon could tell that he had encountered Yulivee personally. In the books, it said that she had come to the library 1,832 years ago.

  Nuramon stroked the leather binding of the book thoughtfully and finally slid it back into its place on the shelf. He glanced at Reilif one last time, but the master sat again before his bookshelf, immersed in what he was reading. Nuramon climbed back down the ladder. He turned to take a final look at the narrow hall. Of all the rooms he had seen in the library, he liked this one the most. Perhaps he would return here one day. Noroelle would certainly love this place.

  Nuramon went in search of Farodin. He found him in his study room. Young Ele was in the middle of reading something aloud in Dailish. Mandred was sitting in one corner of the small room, listening to Ele read. The text was about the Aegilien Islands and the elves who sailed to sea from there. Nuramon leaned against the wall and listened to the young elf’s words.

  “‘No end to the siege was in sight. They were not able to break through the invisible wall. The twelve sorcerers surrounded the island aboard twelve ships, and then the inhabitants of Zeolas grew afraid, for they knew that twelve powerful sorcerers could destroy the might of their magical wall, even when the splinters of the mirror had not been collected. The sorcerers raised their hands, spoke their incantations, and with a mighty roar, the enemy’s wall burst asunder. In this way did Zeolas fall.’” Ele paused. “That’s all that’s written here.”

  “Thank you, Ele,” said Farodin. “We will read the other texts later.” Then he turned to Nuramon. “We have discovered a great deal. There are many indications that we won’t need all of the grains of sand to break Emerelle’s spell.”

  “Fate is smiling on us,” Mandred added, but he showed no sign of moving from his obviously comfortable spot in the corner.

  Nuramon waited until the young elf had left the room. Then he pushed himself from the wall and moved toward Farodin. “I have good news, too, something that might take us farther.”

  Mandred stood up. “Tell us,” he said.

  Nuramon related what he had stumbled across in Yulivee’s book. As he repeated Master Reilif’s words, he noticed that Farodin was only half listening to him. He seemed more interested in exchanging looks with Mandred, who paced restlessly back and forth. Even the mention of the oracle seemed to hardly interest the pair. When Nuramon had finished, the room fell silent.

  Finally, Farodin said, “Mandred and I have found out a lot. We are holding on to the hope that we don’t need all of the grains of sand to break Emerelle’s spell. Once we have found enough of the grains, they will lead us to the location of Noroelle’s gate. And I have discovered texts that will help me perfect my seeking spell. Why should we bother with Yulivee? She and Valemas are behind us. We have come a long way since then, and now you tell us we’re supposed to turn again and try another way?”

  Farodin’s reaction did not take Nuramon completely by surprise. When he saw his companions’ unenthusiastic looks, it was clear to him what was coming. Farodin was used to giving the orders and tolerated no answering back. “In other words,” Nuramon said, “you don’t like the path that I have laid out.”

  “I see no path,” replied Farodin.

  “My way has been good enough for you this far.”

  “What do you mean, your way? Until now, I have not taken a single step that I was not convinced was the right one to take. And that will continue.”

  “My path could be a shortcut. I will put it plainly. Your grains of sand are not the solution to this puzzle. We have to take a different road if we want to rescue Noroelle. Have you forgotten the desert? This is a world of sand. Have you been to the sea and put your head in the water? Have you seen what makes up the bottom of the ocean? I would try to find this oracle ten times over rather than wander aimlessly through the world, picking up an occasional grain of sand.”

  “I know,” said Farodin. “Following a path to its end was never one of your strong points.”

  Nuramon was stunned. He understood Farodin’s allusion well enough, but what could he possibly do about the fate of his own incarnations? He hadn’t asked to carry their soul. He knew little about them, but one thing was certain: all had died young and none had ever seen the moonlight. In his wildest imaginings, he never would have expected Farodin to attack his feelings like this instead of convincing him with his arguments. “Have you always thought that of me and just kept it to yourself?”

  “I think of you as someone who is taking a very long journey to reach the moonlight.”

  “What does the moonlight have to do with our search?” said Mandred now, entering the fray.

  Farodin raised his hands in conciliation. “You are right, Mandred. This is not what we should be discussing here. But as far as the oracle is concerned, I am not prepared to give up a certainty for a maybe. Has it even occurred to you that this oracle very likely went into the moonlight long ago? How long has it been since Yulivee was there?”

  Nuramon said nothing.

  “Your silence says it all. You admit there are no answers to my questions. I say we stay on the path we have already begun to follow. Sooner or later, we will reach our goal.”

  “For me, a chance at sooner is better than the certainty of later. The oracle has knowledge that will help us.”

  “Assuming you find your oracle and get answers to your questions. What can she offer us that we can’t find in these halls?”

  “Look around, Farodin. For all my respect for this place, I also see that it only preserves the learnings of the past, the knowledge of those who can no longer tell it to us in their own voice. What we need is knowledge of the present and the future. We should take Yulivee as our model.”

  Farodin folded his arms across his chest. “Could it be that you have
lost interest in Noroelle? Are you more interested in following Yulivee’s footsteps now?”

  Nuramon balled his hands into fists. “How blind are you? You of all people should know how foolish your accusation is. Although . . . now that I think about it, just this kind of blindness is in your nature. You only see what you want to. Isn’t it obvious to you that I could have brought our courtship of Noroelle to an end years earlier?”

  “Could have . . . two words that fill the mouths of failures,” Farodin replied coolly.

  “Don’t you think you failed in your love of Noroelle? You put on the appearance of the perfect minnesinger, but you never understood what Noroelle was really waiting for. She wanted you to speak your love in your own words, not through songs that were written for someone else. And she wanted me to touch her with my hands, and not only my words. Why do you think it took me so long?”

  Farodin’s mouth twitched at one corner.

  “I watched you, Farodin. And I wondered what it was about you that didn’t tally. What do you keep hidden deep inside? What is it that you don’t want to reveal even to the woman you think you love? Is there nothing behind all your borrowed words but an empty heart? What kind of love is it that can’t be called by its own name?”

  Farodin’s hand slipped to the pommel of his sword. “You’re standing at a threshold neither of us wants to overstep.”

  “Farodin, we crossed our thresholds long ago. Do you really think I would follow a man incapable of love?”

  Mandred grabbed hold of Farodin by the shoulder and pulled him back. The mortal obviously thought that blood would flow any moment. “That’s enough, Nuramon,” he said sharply.

  “It seems we’ve run out of things in common,” said Farodin, his expression stony.